A Kaleidoscope of Butterflies - Christina Lee Page 0,83
my son.”
Before he could get another question out, Audrey came flying around the corner with Sam on her heels. “Mrs. Lancaster! We missed you!”
“Missed you too, sweetie.” She bent to hug them one after the other as Emerson threw him a puzzled look.
“Are you staying?” Sam asked.
“If you’ll have me. Or maybe across the street if it’s livable.”
Okay, something’s definitely wrong.
They ushered her to the kitchen and offered her something to drink, while Sam blabbed on about them releasing the butterflies and then about some other science thing.
“Sam,” Emerson said in a warning tone. “Let’s give Mrs. Lancaster and Rhys a minute to talk alone.” As he steered the kids out of the room, he threw Rhys a glance over his shoulder. “Maybe take your mom on a tour across the street?”
“Good idea,” he replied, and she followed him to where he’d dropped his sneakers, then out the door.
“The roof looks brand-new,” she remarked as they walked to the backyard and glanced skyward in the dimming light of dusk. “It should, after what it cost. I don’t know what we would’ve done if the insurance hadn’t covered most of it.”
“We would’ve figured it out,” Rhys replied as he accompanied her inside the house through the back door. “We always did.”
Just like they’d figure out whatever had driven his mom to make a surprise visit.
He took her on a tour through the upstairs, and she was pleasantly surprised by the modern fixtures in the bathroom. Then he steered her into the master bedroom, where she’d once slept, but now it had water stains on the hardwood floor nearest the hallway, which had taken the brunt of the saturation.
He glanced across the hall at his childhood bedroom, which now almost felt…juvenile. What in the hell was wrong with him? He’d been lucky to stay in this house as an adult, no doubt, but now he only felt a pang of longing for the familiar four walls with the fresh paint and the comforter that smelled like his best friend.
“What’s going on?” he asked, sitting down on the worn chair she’d inherited from his grandmother and in which she’d rocked him as a baby. There was certainly nostalgia here.
Just like there was across the street.
She sighed. “I’m just not happy in Florida.”
He nodded, knowing that was true enough. “What about your job?”
“They cut my hours again.” She looked away guiltily, like maybe there was more to it than that. “I sure miss the ladies from my old job. I thought maybe I could drop in for lunch tomorrow and catch up.”
She’d kept the same office-manager job for years before she met Carl. It was a whirlwind after that. Before Rhys had blinked, they were getting serious and moving out of state. And yeah, he still felt a bit bitter about it all. She had always been too much of a giver in the relationship department, and in his estimation, getting little in return.
Speaking of which… “And Carl?”
Her eyes grew round and wet, and she burst into tears. “I just don’t know anymore.”
He stepped forward and pulled her in for a hug. “It’s okay.”
She sniffled. “You always did say I sacrifice too much of myself.”
“You absolutely do,” he agreed. “Is that how you feel now?”
She nodded. He supposed that explained all the strange vibes he’d been getting lately. Or maybe always—he was still missing a whole year of his life. “How long have you felt like this?”
She drew back. “For a while, but it took your accident to put some things in perspective, I guess.”
“Tell me about it.” They shared a smile. “Does Carl know you’re here?”
“Yeah. I told him I needed time.”
“Maybe give it a couple of days and see how you feel?”
“Sounds about right.” She glanced around the room, seeming unsure of herself, which surprised him. But maybe she didn’t want to be alone in this house right now either.
“How about we set you up at the Roses’ over the weekend? There’s plenty of room.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to put them—”
“You won’t. I promise,” he replied, then cut the lights. “How about some leftover mac-and-cheese? Your recipe.”
Comfort food did the trick for her mood, and after they visited for a while over a glass of wine, Emerson ushered her to his room upstairs, where he’d been busy changing the sheets. She didn’t protest, which probably meant she was exhausted. Or she simply assumed Emerson would stay in Rhys’s room like they did when they were kids.