Beck must not have an opinion regarding any of it or he would have remembered it was happening in the first place. One of these days, when he yet again fails to warn me about something, I’m going to slap the boy right upside his handsome face. Or not so accidentally kick him in his sleep.
I’m helping Mrs. Francis with unpacking all the boxes when my mother arrives. Mom is tall with long gray hair pulled back in a braid. In all honesty, she’s sort of a mix of suburban mom and hippie. Worn leather boots, jeans, and a plum-colored twinset. She’s staring in either horror or wonder at the vast array of luxury homewares spread across every available surface. Maybe a mix of both.
“Hi,” I say, pasting a smile on my face. “You’re here. I thought you were going to text me your flight details so I could pick you up?”
Nothing from her.
“Mom?”
Her gaze moves to me. “It was fine, honey. A nice man from that hotel you were staying at drove me over. What is all this? Do you live here now?”
“Yes, we just moved. I’m choosing some things for the house. It came with furniture, but there’s still a lot we need apparently.” So much stuff. It’s overwhelming. And now Mom is here. This day isn’t going well.
Smith gives me a nod once it’s obvious the woman is who she said she is, most likely isn’t a hostile threat (at least physically), and I’m okay with her being here. Then he confers with Mrs. Francis before heading for the stairs with my mother’s carry-on suitcase.
“It’s great to see you,” I say. Still in stunned mode, she doesn’t react to me kissing her cheek. “Mom, this is our housekeeper, Mrs. Francis. Mrs. Francis, this is my mother, Heather.”
Mrs. Francis smiles in welcome. “Mrs. Lawrence, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Hello.” Mom’s voice is faint. Even worse, she looks at me as if I’m a stranger. Like I’ve grown a second head or tentacles or something. A bit unfair considering I didn’t even dress up today. My hair is in a low-slung ponytail and my makeup is minimal. I’m wearing skinny blue jeans, a flowing white silk blouse with long sleeves by Veronica Beard that makes me feel like I’m a heroine in a book from the fifties (though I’ve already managed to spill a drop of coffee on the front), and blue point-toe Iriza Half d’Orsay Louboutin flats. With the diamond stud earrings, of course.
All right. So maybe I look a little different. But I’m still light years away from being Real Housewives material. I smile. “Beck has gone to Boulder, but he should be back soon.”
Meanwhile, two gentlemen carry in what looks to be crystal ice buckets. How beyond extra. The sales specialist, Toya, spreads out a selection of linen napkins. My mother’s frown deepens with the arrival of every new luxury. This is so fucking awkward.
“Can I get anyone a drink or something to eat, perhaps?” asks Mrs. Francis. God bless the woman.
“Mom?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“Why don’t we give you and your mother a moment alone to catch up?” Mrs. Francis ushers everyone out of the room apart from my mother and me.
“I haven’t joined a cult,” I say. “But I have discovered what a salad fork is. Useful information, that.”
Mom pulls out a dining chair and flops onto it like a ragdoll.
“How was your flight?”
“What on earth is going on here?” she asks, her brows arched high. “Who are you? What happened to my daughter?”
“Now that’s harsh.”
“Look at you!”
“I thought I looked nice.”
“You don’t even look like yourself anymore,” says Mom, voice rising in volume.
“You’d be amazed what a keratin treatment can do.” I pull out the seat beside her and sit down. “Mom, please, just calm down.”
“This place…it’s insane. I never…”
“Can’t you be happy that I’m happy?” I snap, losing my cool. “Because I am, you know?”
She stops and stares at me. At least there’s less horror in her eyes this time, more questioning. The lines of tension bracketing her mouth ease a little.
“I love this house. It’s crazy, don’t get me wrong. But I love it and this city too.”
“Alice.” The amount of judgment she manages to pack into one little word is impressive.
“As for the NDA, they just want to make sure no one attacks their family in the press or anything. It’s honestly not a big deal.” I take a breath. “As happy as