He hadn’t regretted moving home to Fool’s Falls when his dad fell ill two years ago. He’d owned a damned hospice business when he lived in Seattle, and he’d been a nurse for years before that . . . he had more than enough experience to do whatever was needed. No matter how his father might’ve felt about Aiden’s career, they’d gotten a bit closer that last year. Or at least, they’d come to some kind of peace.
Alas, the same could not be said of his mother. Before going back in the house, he pulled out his phone, shooting a quick text to his best friend and ex–business partner, Malcolm.
AIDEN: Fifty years old and I’m still being treated like I’m fifteen. Remind me again why I’m still here in the Falls?
MALCOLM: Because you’re a good son. Possibly too good. She driving you up a wall again?
AIDEN: Only always.
MALCOLM: You got this. We still on for Thursday? This week’s been brutal, and I could use a little online time to blow off steam.
AIDEN: Yeah. Was thinking the Castle Run?
MALCOLM: That’s a good one. Let’s hope everybody’s up for it.
Aiden grinned at the phone. Sometimes he thought if it weren’t for his online gaming guild, he’d lose his mind.
He came back into his mother’s house to start dinner. “I was thinking of making black-and-blue salad this week,” he said, keeping his voice upbeat. “What do you think? Grilled steak, and I picked up some salad and blue cheese.”
“Steak’s expensive,” she scolded.
“It was on sale.” Actually, it wasn’t, but he’d paid for it. She didn’t need to know that.
She sighed. “Why haven’t you fixed my car yet?” she pressed. “If I had my car, I could’ve driven myself!”
He felt his shoulders tense. “I’m waiting on some parts,” he said.
“Parts? What parts?”
“The . . . carb manifold,” he said. That was a thing, wasn’t it? “And the timing belt’s not right. I had to send the old one back.”
“Did you order it online?” she asked, then started shaking her head before he could even answer. “That’s the damned problem. You should’ve gone to O’Reilly’s and then gotten the right thing.”
“You’re probably right,” he said, trying to soothe her.
“It’s like your father always said,” his mother added sagely. “You order online, you get those cheap pieces of crap from China. No wonder you got the wrong size! Probably would’ve snapped the first time you used it, for pity’s sake.”
“Mom,” Aiden reprimanded her, and grimaced. Yes, his father’s sentiments were well known, and shared by his mother, and if he was honest, a good population of the town. “Not okay.”
His mother was sullen, but she fell silent. “Davy would’ve had the car fixed by now.”
He forced his face to stay placid at the mention of his younger brother. “He probably would,” he finally said, with forced cheer. “But he’s running all those car dealerships, so maybe he’d be too busy.”
Davy was certainly too busy to leave Spokane and come back to Fool’s Falls, despite Aiden’s repeated requests. He’d come back sporadically as their father battled with cancer, but Aiden knew seeing their once larger-than-life father reduced to the frail shell he was before he passed was too much. He also knew that, despite being their mother’s favorite, dealing with the increasing acidity of their mother’s tongue since their father’s death was more than Davy was equipped to deal with. Here it was October, and he hadn’t seen Davy in person since Easter.
And that was to say nothing of the Issue.
His mother walked over to her coffee machine, pouring herself an earthenware mug. Aiden shuddered to think what cup she was on by now. She drank almost a pot of the highest-octane stuff she could manage every day. “Still, he couldn’t be slower than you’ve been,” she grumbled.
Time to pull out his ace in the hole. “I could always drop it by Dominic’s,” he said, referring to the mechanic in town.
She reared back. “Are you kidding? I’m on a fixed income! That bastard would bleed me dry!”
His father’s words, again. “I’ll get on it,” he said.
What he didn’t say, and perhaps should have, was: I haven’t fixed the car because the problem isn’t with the engine. The problem is you backed into a large light pole, bumped into two parked cars, and sideswiped a delivery truck.
Three separate incidents. Three strikes, and please God, she needed to be out.
He’d finally pulled her spark plugs and made up a car problem. He wished he could be more honest, but she wouldn’t listen, and he hadn’t come up with a way to make her.
He’d tried discussing the matter with Davy, but Davy had been dodging his calls. Lord knows, neither of them wanted to tell their mother that she shouldn’t be driving anymore. She was seventy-six years old and still sharp, or mostly sharp. He’d surreptitiously done tests to see how her memory was doing, her cognitive function. But especially since their father’s death, she’d just gotten more acerbic. He knew why. He tried to grant her understanding and respect her independence . . . no matter how hard and painful it sometimes was to see her struggling. To bear the brunt of her anger. But there they were.
“So,” she said, “Jason’s wedding is coming up in December. Though why they’re doing it right before Christmas, I will never know. Who the hell is going to want to drive to Coeur d’Alene in the snow?”
“Maybe there won’t be as much snow,” he said. “But if there is, I guess it’ll just be a smaller wedding.”
“They’re getting married at some swanky resort,” she said, her pursed lips saying just what she thought about that idea. “Did you get your invitation?”
“Yes,” he said. “But I don’t think I’m going to go.”
It was the wrong thing to say. His mother’s eyes widened, and her nostrils flared.
He sighed. This was going to suck.
“What do you mean, you’re not going to go?” she snapped. “You have to go!”
Stay calm. Be cool.
“Do I, though?” he said. “Jason’s twenty years younger than me, and we’ve never been all that close.”
“He’s your aunt’s youngest, and the whole family is going to be there!”
“Yeah, well,” he tried to joke, “the whole family and I have never been all that close either.”
Wrong move, part two. His mother slammed the mug on the kitchen table, ignoring the slosh over the wood. “You are going,” she growled, “and that is final.”
As if he were twelve again, and not a grown man. Anger snapped like sparks from a fire, but he steadfastly ignored it.
“Davy’s going to be there,” he pointed out. “And you’ll be there. I am assuming that it’s enough representation from our branch of the family. Besides, if Davy’s going to be there and he brings her, it’s going to be . . . awkward.”
He hated bringing it up. Hated it. But it was the truth.
“That’s precisely why you have to go,” she said. “Sheryl’s going to be there with your brother, and the whole family is still gossiping about the three of you. They still think there’s bad blood between you all. You need to put that to rest, once and for all.”