Page 20 of Miss Understanding

Despite knowing I’d be overdressed for seeing my mother, I donned my suit and tie. Perhaps it was a sort of armor, reminding me I was a successful partner in a firm at which most lawyers would give their right arm to be hired. I made more money a quarter than most houses cost here in my hometown.

I’d made something of myself in leaving this town. The fact I’d returned didn’t mean anything other than I’d chosen to be here in order to support my mother. The suit also reminded me that this house situation with Kendall needed to remain purely professional. I’d meant to skip her breakfast this morning in order to gain some equilibrium in dealing with her, but the moment I’d eyed the omelet she’d been making, my mouth had started to water.

I left the house without saying goodbye. Another dick move to add to the list when it came to my assistant. Hell, I cringed now to think of my reaction last night when she’d asked if I was all right. I’d been way too vulnerable to talk to her about any of it. It wasn’t a side I wanted anyone to see, least of all someone who worked for me.

My plan this morning had been to run, shower, change, and be out of the house without seeing her. Instead, I’d sat down to breakfast with her, eating the best omelet I’d ever tasted and thinking about her in a way that left me very uncomfortable. There was a reason I’d worked so hard to put up barriers between us. The last thing I needed was for this one week to unravel it all.

Being behind the wheel of a pickup truck made me nostalgic for my youth. Every boy in town had driven one. Including me. Of course mine had been a beat-up Chevy my grandfather had passed down, but it had been all mine. He’d been the only positive male influence in my life growing up. Which reminded me. I needed to be sure to go by his and my grandmother’s gravesites in the local cemetery while in town.

Pulling up in my mother’s driveway was bittersweet. My childhood brick, two-story home appeared unchanged. I smiled the moment my sister came out of the front door. She had one kid on her hip and the other tugging on her leg. Shit. The girls were how old again?

“Hi, Allison,” I greeted, getting out of the truck and walking up to the door.

She was in jeans and a sweater, her blond hair up in a messy bun. “Hi yourself, little brother. Don’t you look overdressed.”

Leave it to her to bust my chops. “I live in suits almost daily.”

“Are they dry-cleanable?”

“Yes. Of course. Why?”

She thrust the toddler girl to me. “Good. You remember little Mavis. She’s two now, but last you saw her she was only a year old. And, Chelsea, say hello to your uncle Liam. She’s four now, by the way.”

Right. I could feel my blush at not being able to remember any of this. Both girls had my sister’s genes with their big blue eyes and warm smiles.

“Hi, Uncle Liam. Did you know that Grandpa died?” Chelsea asked.

“Yes, I did. But I wasn’t aware you called him Grandpa.” Given that my sister was two years older, she remembered the horrible times from our childhood even more than I did. So I was surprised she’d given our deadbeat dad the honor of being called Grandpa.

She sighed long and loud. “It’s Mom’s doing. Not mine. What do I say at this point when she tells the girls to call him that?”

Nothing, most likely. My mother had a tendency to worry more about how things appeared than the reality. Nothing like rewriting history one Grandpa at a time.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.” They were kids, and it wasn’t my business. I smiled at my youngest niece. “I think Uncle Liam already needs a drink.”

My sister snorted. “You and me both. Come on in. Hoping we can go today and meet with the funeral home.”

It was fine by me. The sooner we got the arrangements settled, the better.

Stepping into the house was like traveling back in time. The same pillows on the floral sofa, the familiar pictures on the mantle of my sister and me as kids, the same smell bringing back all the memories of my childhood. Hell, even the same outdated wallpaper; it was faded but still intact.

Once I’d made partner, I’d offered to move my mom into a new house and out of this town, but she’d insisted on staying. Part of me wondered if it had been so my father would know exactly where to find her. As if she’d decided to stay in this house, waiting on him this entire time.

My mother came out of the kitchen, immediately smiling when she saw me. “Oh, my darling boy. You’re home.” She hurried toward me and hugged me tight, her five-foot-five frame only coming up to my chest. It was in this moment I knew I’d done the right thing in being here.

Until her sobs started. If ever I was at a loss, it was with tears. I tried to comfort her the best I could, with my sister slinking out of the room to keep from getting nominated to step in.

“It’s okay, Mom.” What else could I say? I didn’t share her grief, and I certainly didn’t know how to fake it, either.

Finally, the crying abated. “Why don’t we sit on the sofa?”

The first thing I noticed, despite her reddened, puffy eyes, was how much better she looked than a year ago when I’d last seen her. Her brown hair was newly highlighted. Her nails were done. I insisted on paying her taxes and any other large bills, but it was like pulling teeth to get her to spend anything on herself. Evidently, that had changed recently.

“Thank you for coming home, Liam. I know this isn’t easy.”

It was the understatement of the century. “I’m here for you, Mom.”

She smiled, straightening my tie. “And so overdressed.”