to the house. "Hello, Mum."
"Ohhhhh," Lia breathed. She cut me a glance. "You could've warned me," she whispered under her breath.
"Surprise," I whispered back.
Lia lifted her chin and smoothed a hand over her hair. Given we had made no plans other than to drive back home, she'd dressed for comfort with a massive hoodie over jeans and tall brown boots. Looking at her, there was absolutely no indication she was pregnant. She looked young and pretty.
"What are you doing here?" Mum asked, eyes traveling from me to Lia and back again.
I curled a hand around Lia's shoulders. "We just took a holiday in Haworth for a few days. Thought we'd drop by to say hello on our way back home."
Her hand came up, and I noticed the tremor in it as she laid it on her chest. "Right. Your father is out in the backfields. He won't be back for about thirty minutes yet."
I nodded, just as Lia cleared her throat sharply.
Right.
"This is Lia Ward, Mum."
Lia smiled, moving forward to hold her hand out. "It's so nice to meet you, Mrs. McAllister."
"You're American."
The smile on Lia's face deepened, a dimple appearing in her cheek. "Your son said that in almost the same tone the night we met."
My mom didn't smile back. Probably because she wasn't terribly happy to see us.
They didn't do surprises well. Any change to their routine, to their schedule, was absolutely out of the question.
Lia's smile faded slowly. "Umm, what kind of farming do you do? Jude hasn't told me too much."
She hummed. "Of course, he hasn't. We have sheep and goats. We sell milk and cheese, the wool from the sheep, and the meat, of course. But we've started doing tours as well. That's where my husband is. He's got a school group here for a tour."
My head reared back. "You do? Dad hates people stomping around his farm."
"There's good money in agritourism, Jude." She glanced at Lia briefly. "We can't all make millions of pounds a year playing games."
Lia's mouth fell open before she snapped it shut.
I may not have reacted on the outside, but the arrow buried deep, even if she hadn't intended it that way. That was the thing about my parents. In their discomfort of what I did, the success I'd found, they managed a razor-sharp level of disdain that I wasn't even sure they were aware of.
"Quite true, Mum." I lifted my chin. "You could cash the checks I've sent you, though, if he hates doing tours so much."
"We're perfectly capable of supporting ourselves, Jude." She did some chin lifting of her own. "Riding on your coattails is best reserved for others."
Lia, as I expected, didn't let that barb slide. She smiled again, but I could see how it cost her. "I certainly hope that wasn't aimed at me, considering I've just met you and you know nothing about me."
My mum's cheeks flushed a rosy pink. "No, not you. I apologize if it sounded like it. Past experiences have taught us that almost everyone who meets him wants something from him, is all."
"Well," I said slowly, "I suppose you'll be pleased to know that Lia had absolutely no idea who I was when we met. Called football—what was it again, love?—boring?"
Lia blinked. "Umm, yeah. Somewhere along those lines. I just ... I didn't understand the game like I do now."
"She's here studying at Oxford for Michaelmas," I told my mum, who was regarding Lia with guarded curiosity in her eyes. "Getting her master's degree in English Literature."
That softened her just the slightest. My mum always loved to read.
Lia glanced between my mum and I. "I specialize in the Brontës. That's why Jude took me to Haworth," she said, looking up at me with a strained smile.
"I was always fond of the parsonage museum myself," my mum said.
I glanced over at her. "You've been there?"
"I do travel some places, Jude," she answered crisply.
It was that tight reply, the defensive snap in her voice that pushed me just slightly over the edge of propriety. "Right. Just not anywhere you might see me do my job, right? And certainly not if I ask you to."
Lia tightened her fingers around mine, eyes focused on the ground.
My mum lifted her chin. "You gave us no notice, Jude. Just like always, you expect the world to stop revolving simply because you've asked it to. But people have lives and jobs that don't bend to your whim."
"I wasn't asking you to bend to my whim, Mum."
"Weren't you?" She