Page 90 of Unbound

I stare at her profile, a little fucking confused. “How do you know what my net worth is?”

She turns to me, a hint of a smirk on her thin lips. “I’m quite certain you found mine, so it’s only fair I know yours.”

Seems like Auntie Constance found out about my little hacking hobby. “Well played, Auntie Constance. Well played.”

“Thank you.” She sets her glass down. “But in all seriousness, from one very smart woman to another, cover your ass.”

This time Deidre drops the spoon, staring at her husband’s aunt as it bounces across the floor.

Constance scoffs. “Don’t look at me like that. Do you genuinely think I’ve been running a billion-dollar company for the past thirty years without saying some choice words now and then?”

A smile works onto my face. “You’re a bad bitch, Auntie Constance.”

I swear the old woman sits a little taller. “Thank you, dear.” She reaches out to pat my hand. “I think you are quite the bad bitch as well.”

I don’t think I’ve ever been so flattered in my life. “I’m trying.”

“Keep it up and never stop.” Constance looks over to my mother and Deidre. “That goes for you two as well. Life is short. Be terrifying.”

“Words to live by.” I pick up my glass and hold it out. “Here’s to being terrifying.”

Constance taps her flute against mine, and we both down the remnants of our drinks.

Breakfast is delicious, which isn’t surprising. Deidre Bradshaw is an amazing cook, and my mother has been learning to cook from Deidre Bradshaw for years. It only makes sense the two of them together would come up with something ridiculous like truffle-infused scrambled eggs with chives, prosciutto and brie breakfast tarts with fig jam, and a salad with perfectly ripe fruit glazed in some sort of vanilla-scented, slightly creamy sauce. By the time my belly is full, I’m much less annoyed at the early wake-up call.

Unfortunately, Deidre and Constance don’t hang around for long once everything is cleaned up, and soon my full belly is turning as I face down the reality of the conversation I have to have with my mother.

Wiping my palms on my leggings, I try to look like everything’s fine as I say, “Why don’t we go sit down?”

My mother angles a brow at me but doesn’t ask any questions as we take our places in Walker’s comfortable great room.

“I’m going to call the warehouse. Tell them we’re going to be in a little later.” Walker makes himself scarce, disappearing into his office to give my mom and me privacy. On one hand, it’s nice of him to do, and I’m sure my mother will be grateful. On the other, it means I’m going to have to recount this whole thing to him later, and depending on what she has to say, that could be really fucking difficult.

“What is it you need to talk about, Sybil?” My mother cuts right to the chase. She always does. She’s always been very matter-of-fact and to the point. I think that’s why she’s struggled so much to understand me.

Because I lose the point very quickly, and my mind takes some pretty big leaps throughout a conversation. Going from something as benign as the weather to the volcanic explosion of Mount Saint Helens in a convoluted line of connections that make most people’s heads spin is a pretty common occurrence for me.

It’s almost happening right now, because now I’m thinking about Mount Saint Helens and volcanoes. Volcanoes make me think of Joe Versus the Volcano. Which makes me think of Tom Hanks, which makes me think of Big. Which makes me think of fortune tellers. And now I’m wondering how many tarot cards are in a deck.

I’m going to have to Google that later.

“Sybil.” My mother’s sharp voice drags my mind out of its tailspin. “Did you want to talk about something?”

“Not really, but we have to.” I take a deep breath, trying really hard not to think about tarot cards. “Could you tell me more about the man you talked to when you went to my townhouse?”

My mother goes very still, her spine straightening. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

I’m a little unnerved at how quickly she jumped to that conclusion. “Maybe?”

“Dammit.” My mother’s eyes lift to the ceiling. “I knew this was going to happen one day. You have always been too determined and too headstrong to rein in.” She brings one hand to her head, leaning into it as her elbow props on the arm of her chair. “I suppose I should be glad you haven’t ended up in prison.” Her head tips even more. “Yet.”

“Oh my God. I’m not going to end up in prison.” I probably would do pretty well there though. I really like ramen noodles and Little Debbie’s. I could also probably hack into any sort of system they let us use and figure out a way to add money to everybody’s books.

But I feel like they would probably catch me and I’d end up having to stay in prison longer.

“The only reason you’re not going to end up in prison is because now you have Walker to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.” She straightens, dropping the hand at her head. “I knew I should never have told you about my suspicions regarding your father’s death.” Her eyes fuse to where I sit. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You found something someone didn’t want you to find, and now they’re looking for you.”

All these years I’ve felt like my mother didn’t understand me. Didn’t know who I was as a person. It would appear I was very incorrect. She seems to know exactly who I am.