Shock - Marie Johnston Page 0,25

break in my campaign schedule.” She means she made a break in her campaign schedule. Mom’s job as state senator is her identity. Campaigning is critical and her priority every election season. There’s no such thing as a “break” in September. Which means I won’t like the reason for the visit. “Samuel tells me you’re seeing someone.”

“Yes.” I don’t give her more. She talks to him more than she talks to me. I know they’ve worked together and she’s his mentor. It didn’t bother me as much when I was with Samuel but the resentment is building more each day I’m gone.

Mom and I don’t have much in common. I went to school in a field she loved. At the time, I thought it was because my life was so steeped in politics, I must be destined for it. But the longer I’m in Sunnyville, the more times I have lemonade on Mrs. Rosenthal’s back porch and evade her nosy questions about the patients I deal with, the more I realize that I wanted a link to Mom. Now that I’m not following in her footsteps, what else do we have to talk about?

“Is he the man you’ve been working with?” Mom’s voice invades my swell of disappointment.

“I’m sure whatever Samuel told you is accurate.”

“Aurelia, don’t be like that.”

How often have I heard that from her? Whenever I don’t act like her, she says it. Yet I recite my standard response. “Like what, Mom?”

“Immature. You’re twenty-five. Samuel is a nice young man with a good head on his shoulders. I wish you knew what you walked away from.”

“He’s a cheater.”

“He’s human and he loves you.”

Thank God I have a lie to fall back on. “I’m with Ford now.”

“A man that took advantage of a younger and inexperienced partner.”

“He’s a nice young man with a good head on his shoulders.” Yes, that was immature, but I don’t have many tools to deal with my parents, especially Mom. It’s either obedient acquiescence or petty remarks.

Mom’s sigh is so familiar it propels me back to my teenage years. Hell, I don’t even have to go back that far. She made the same noise when I told her I was leaving both her campaign team and San Francisco. Right before she said, Aurelia, don’t be like that. “Your father and I would like to meet him. We’re your parents. We worry.”

Thirsty for more signs that Mom cares about me and not just me and Samuel, I can’t refuse her outright. “He works Saturday.” I hope she doesn’t catch that I only said he.

“Then we’ll meet on Sunday. Samuel said the country club is adequate.”

I could tell them to meet us at Hooligan’s, where a lot of the police and firemen hang out. Then they’d feel out of place while Ford and I would walk in knowing half the people. We’d get some burgers and brews. I’d also get a whole lot of others in my business, and no one else needs to witness Ford meeting the parents.

“Let me know what time and we’ll be there.” I just have to make sure Ford can and will make it.

When I walk back out to the living room, Cass has Jayden on her hip and she’s inches away from Ford, speaking so low I can’t make out a word she’s saying.

Ford’s planted his hands on his hips, his stormy expression wiping away any creeping jealousy regarding their proximity. Samuel and his ex-wife used to talk like that. She’d stop by the house with some urgent reason to meet with him and I’d find them standing toe-to-toe, her earnest expression too hopeful to be about how the electric company won’t take his name off her account so she can’t fix an overcharge.

“Sorry. Bad time?” I ask, shaking off old memories. Cass is pissed. This isn’t about a simple overcharge.

Cass clenches her jaw shut but keeps glaring at Ford. “No. I was just leaving.”

She yanks the diaper bag from his hand and storms out. Ford watches her leave, his jaw rigid.

I tuck my hands into my back pockets. “She took it that well?”

“I think it’s that you’re here when Jayden’s around and I didn’t tell her.”

I want to fire back with “Yeah, well, does she have dudes over and not tell you?” but I keep it in. If we were working together, I would. This is different. We’re not coworkers right this minute and I’m the girl she’s upset about. “I’m sorry.”

“If it wasn’t you, she’d be pissed about