tell her what you’re doing. You will spend at least a little time with her each day and take her wherever she wants to go. If she feels up to it, you will walk with her. You’ll drive her around on a tour of Devon. If she wants to eat out, and I can’t be with her, you will be. You will take care of my pets until I’m sleeping there again—”
“Where will you be?” he cut in, sounding terrified.
“With Mom at the Inn.” I explained that piece.
“Mom? At our Inn? She and Dad never went anywhere. She won’t have a clue what to do with a luxury Inn.”
I smiled into the phone. “Which is why we will show her. She is recovering from a broken hip, so she can’t walk far or for long, but we will make things as pleasant as possible for her—and I’m serious about my pets, Liam.” I ran through their needs to remind him. “And my house. I want it as neat as you keep your kitchen. Got that?”
“I’m not deaf,” he grumbled.
“Just self-absorbed, but right now, this isn’t about you or me, it’s about her. She’s given us a lot. We need to give back. She’s our mother, and she’s hurting. We owe her.”
“Hey, you were the one who left. All those years, I stayed.”
“Until five weeks ago, and that was the last straw.”
“You’re blaming me for her problems?”
I sighed. “No, Liam. We both let her down, so here’s a chance for us to redeem ourselves. I’m hanging up now. I need to pack her things.”
There was silence for a minute, then, because Liam wasn’t dumb either, a cautious, “And she’s onboard with all this?”
Wasn’t that the question? But I wasn’t giving him the chance to argue against the plan, so all I said was, “We’ll be back in Devon tonight. Plan to be at the Inn first thing tomorrow. Actually, no,” I made a few calculations, “be in the lobby by seven tonight. I want you there when we arrive.”
* * *
My mother was not onboard with it, but when she started to argue, I listed the arrangements Edward and I had already made. Then I smiled. “It would be a major inconvenience if we had to cancel everything.”
She stood by the front door, which was where she had been when she spotted her packed bag, and for an instant her expression held the kind of steel it used to. “That’s unfair, Mackenzie.”
I should have been daunted by that look. After my father died, it had pushed me away in the most hurtful of ways. Now, though, it felt more like spirit than censure, and spirit was good. So, smiling still, I said, “Maybe, but I’m betting Liam is already planning what to cook.”
I waited for her to argue about that. After a minute, she simply said, “Liam puts too much salt in his food.”
“Please tell him that before he opens his restaurant.”
“I have,” Margaret insisted, then blinked. “Restaurant? There?” So she might know where he was, but she didn’t know what he was doing. Same with me. Apparently, her Googling had limits.
I gentled, even dared hold her arm. I imagined I felt a tremor, but she didn’t pull away. “There’s lots you don’t know. I need to tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s my life,” I said and then, without thought to whether the time or place was ideal, I felt my eyes fill, and while the tears didn’t spill, my words did. “Because you’re my mother. Because I’m different from who I was, and I want you—need you to know who I am. Because Edward says he loves me, only I find that hard to believe after the accident, and because if I still blame myself for Lily’s death, I have to blame myself for Dad’s death.”
She gave an angry huff. “It wasn’t his first.”
I pulled my hand back fast. “What?”
“Heart attack. He had one six weeks before Lily died.”
“But he never said—you never said—”
“He wouldn’t let me,” she replied with surprising strength, and it struck me that her anger was at him.
“Why not? I was his daughter. I had a right to know.”
Her green eyes held mine. “You tell him that. I tried. He wouldn’t listen.”
“But I could have helped. I would have. I’d have checked out doctors and treatment, and shifted things around to spend time here and maybe not even been on that road on that day at that time—” Catching myself, I closed my eyes. I inhaled loudly, exhaled