Mati waved to Reese and David sitting in the car at the curb, stepped through the front door of her parents’ house, and locked it behind her. It had taken fifteen minutes of arguing to get David and Reese to agree this was a conversation she could have by herself. The last thing she needed was to introduce both men to her mother and have her wondering the whole time if Mati was dating one of them.
Or worse, figuring out that she was in a relationship with them both.
They hadn’t yet had to hide the intimacy growing between them, and Mati hated that eventually they’d have to. Probably soon.
She kept her cell phone in hand, ready for a call or text if there was an issue, including if David or Reese saw even one hair on Frankie’s head from a quarter mile off.
“Mom?” she called as she went toward the back of the house.
“In here,” her mom replied, and Mati knew she was sitting at the table in the sunny back corner of the kitchen.
What Matiwasn’texpecting was for there to be coffee and fresh cinnamon rolls, still steaming on the plate between her mother and the empty chair across from her.
Matilovedher mother’s cinnamon rolls. And her mother knew it.
Something was definitely wrong.
Mati slid into her seat and poured herself some coffee, savoring the rich flavor from the percolating carafe her mother had brought from her grandmother’s kitchen in the Azores. Cinnamon and butter teased her over the dark roast. She lasted all of ten seconds before she was reaching for a roll.
She studied her mom while she peeled open the hot pastry and let butter melt along the dark cinnamon streaks. Her mom looked unhappy and pale, her eyes puffy like she’d been crying. She kept glancing around the house, as if checking to make sure everything was where it should be.
“Okay, Mom, what’s wrong?” Mati said, trying to keep her tone soft but starting to freak out. Her mom was old fashioned and didn’t understand Mati, but she was tough as nails. Mati had never seen her like this.
“I’m not supposed to tell you,” she replied, suddenly intently focused on her coffee.
“But you’re going to. And I’m going to help, anyway I can.”
“There isn’t anything you can do.” She sighed. “Your father says we have to sell the house.”
The words were like a kick in the chest. “Youwhat?” Mati couldn’t imagine her mother leaving this house, thiskitchen. It waswrong.
Her mother looked away, her jaw working.
“I thought the plan was for you and Dad to stay here, in the house, so the boys and I can take care of you.”
Her mother nodded stiffly. “That was the plan. Now we’re moving in with Michael,” she said, her voice wavering.
“Michael?” Mati blinked at her mother. “My brother? Oryourbrother?”
“Your brother, of course. I’m hardly going to move to Ottawa at this age,” her mother sniffed, as if the very suggestion were more ridiculous than the idea of selling the house she loved. Not two years ago they’d renovated the master bathroom so there would be a chair and handrails in the shower when the time came that they were needed. Now she was going to move into a three bedroom with Michael, his wife, and their two kids?
Mati narrowed her eyes and bit into her cinnamon roll, welcoming the sugar rushing into her system. She’d take any fortification she could get.
She took her time chewing and swallowing. “It’s the business, isn’t it?”
Her mother sighed. “I’m not supposed to tell you.”
“Like you weren’t going to tell me you’re selling the house? It’s not like I wouldn’t havenoticed, for god’s sake.”
“Language, Tilly,” her mother said with a repressive look.
Mati bit back her retort, reminding herself that her motherwantedto tell her what was going on, and Mati needed to know. She wasn’t going to let her idiot brothers take this house from their mom.
“What did they do?”
“Now, Tilly, it’s not for us—”
“Mom.”
