over the phone. Now she bustled around his kitchen making tea. He’d have tried making it for her except that, according to his mom, he could make the finest tea taste like dishwater.
Hey, at least he’d dropped by a bakery and bought her favorite cake.
“How are Fox and Molly?” she asked. “I was so sad to miss their wedding.”
“They understood.” His mom had been getting over a stomach bug at the time, hadn’t been well enough to attend. “They loved the gift you sent.”
A beaming smile. “Oh, good. I donated to the charity like they asked, but I always like to give newlyweds a little something beautiful, too.”
Taking a seat at the counter, he watched her small form move about with vibrant energy as she told him about the cruise and her best friend and the games they played onboard. “This particular ship is full of people my age,” she said. “You’d be bored out of your skull, but I like the time out from the stresses of work. And sometimes I get to dance.” A faraway smile. “No one dances like your daddy though.”
Mind filling with the last time he’d seen his parents dance—at a cousin’s wedding about two months before Gregory Bellamy’s death—Abe smiled. “You two were pretty smooth together.”
His mother winked. “You get your rhythm from Gregory, but you get your style from me. He once rocked the most hideous orange-and-paisley bell-bottoms—not that he ever admitted it, not until I found photographic evidence in an old yearbook.”
Delighted at the thought that his quietly stylish father had once succumbed to the lure of orange bell-bottoms, Abe accepted the cup of tea his mom handed him, grabbed the cake plate, and took it all out to the wooden outdoor table by the pool. His mom followed and the two of them sat in simple quiet for a while, the sun sparkling on the blue water, before Abe took a breath, laid one arm on the table, and opened his mouth to speak.
But the woman who’d given birth to him beat Abe to it.
“You look good.” A gentle hand touching his cheek. “Better than I’ve seen you look since before we lost Tessie. I feel like I have my boy back.” Her voice broke.
“Shit, Mom, don’t cry.”
“Abraham Joshua Bellamy”—his mom sniffed—“don’t you use that language around me, or I’ll wash your mouth out with soap.”
Groaning, Abe got up and went to kneel by her chair. “Why are you crying then?” He reached up to wipe away her tears. “Stop it.”
She continued to cry while patting at his shoulders with hands that had eased a hundred childhood injuries. Tiny and full of energy, his mom had always been a powerhouse career woman, but she’d never let that get in the way of being his mom. Unlike Noah, who also came from wealth, Abe had never had a nanny, never felt as if he didn’t have enough time with his mom.
Abe didn’t know how she’d done it.
“Here.” Digging in the handbag she’d brought out because her phone was in it and she’d wanted to show him some photos from the cruise, he pulled out a lacey handkerchief he’d known would be in there, thrust it at her. “If you don’t stop crying, I won’t give you any cake.”
Rising when she continued to cry, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Mom.”
Her smile was sunshine through her tears. “My beautiful Abe, so big and gentle.” It took a couple more minutes, but she finally dabbed away the remnants of her tears.
Abe refreshed her tea, then pushed a slice of cake toward her before taking his seat. He hated it when his mom cried—it reminded him too much of her shattered state after Tessie’s death. Abe, his mom, his dad, they’d all broken. Tessie had been the baby, meant to outlive them all—it had been impossible to believe she was gone, impossible to accept it.
“You’re sober,” his mom said after a sip of her tea, and it wasn’t a question.
“As a judge.” It was an ironic comment given how many judges there’d been in the extended Bellamy family line. “I promise you I won’t ever again fall back down that rabbit hole,” he said, his gaze locked to the paler brown of her own. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore.”
“I believe you.” Sunshine dawning on his mom’s face, a sudden piercing lightness to her. “There’s a resolve in you I’ve never seen before.” She drank more of her tea, expression turning thoughtful.