“Mom?” I called, keeping Max next to me despite his clear desire to tear through the house and explore. “I’m here.”
“Audrey.” She alighted at the top of the stairs, as if she were posing for a magazine spread, dressed in a beige blouse and tan slacks. “It’s so good to see you.”
I did not look like my mother. She was tall and thin with blue eyes and short silvery-blond hair, whereas I’d inherited my father’s darker features—thick brown hair, brown eyes. Despite my childhood dreams of being taller than my mom, I’d topped out at five foot four and by the time I turned fifteen, I’d been too curvy to borrow her clothes.
“Hi, Mom.”
Her eyes flicked to Max and I didn’t miss the micro-expression of displeasure that crossed her features.
“He’s leashed. I won’t let him jump up on you or anything.”
Max’s tail beat against the marble floor as she approached. He dropped to his back and held his paws in the air, hoping for a coveted belly rub.
“I see you still have the dog.”
“He’s very friendly. He wants you to pet him.”
She eyed him again. “Maybe later. How was the drive?”
“Long.” I shrugged. “But fine. No traffic or anything.”
“Well, don’t just stand here in the foyer.” She gestured toward the kitchen. “Come in.”
My dad’s eyes seemed to follow me as I walked by. Creepy.
I went into the kitchen, keeping Max close. I’d have to take him for a walk to help him burn off some of his energy. Poor dog had been in the car too long.
The kitchen was massive, with a huge island, marble counters, and light wood cabinets. A wrought iron light fixture hung above the island with floral frosted glass lampshades and vines twining up to the high ceiling. It was all very winery-esque, down to the big glass jar half-filled with wine corks in one corner.
“Tea?” Mom asked.
“That would be great, thank you.”
I walked Max around, letting him sniff. He stopped to lick a spot on the tile floor and a few steps later, found the transition to the carpet in the family room extremely interesting. He could probably smell my mom’s cat.
The family room had a fireplace with a flat screen TV mounted above it and a sectional covered with throw pillows in various shades of beige and light blue. The room didn’t look like it was used very much. Mom had never been a big TV or movie watcher. She probably only went in there to dust around the photos and nick-knacks on the mantle and shelves.
And then there was the wall of Audrey.
I’d graduated from high school well over a decade ago, but it was still there. An entire wall of me.
I moved closer as Max kept sniffing. In the center was one of my senior pictures. I had no idea what was going on with my hair back then, with the zig-zag part and flipped out ends. Surrounding the photo were awards I’d received, everything from my sixth-grade student of the year certificate, to my varsity letters in cheer and track, to the plaque from my stint as Pinecrest’s Junior Miss.
The valedictorian medal I’d worn at graduation hung from a wooden peg and the console table beneath held more photos, mostly milestones from my high school years. Scowling, I picked up the photo from my senior prom. My ex-boyfriend, Colin Greaves, smirked back at me, dressed in his rented tux with a pink bow tie to match my dress.
“I saw Colin the other day,” Mom said, her tone thick with the underpinnings of juicy gossip.
“Oh?” I set the photo down.
“He looked great, of course. He’s thinking about running for city council.”
“Good for him.”
“Your dad would have been thrilled.”
“I’m sure he would have.”
“Although, I hear he and Lorelei have been going through a rough patch.”
“Oh, no,” I said, my eyebrows knitting together with concern. I walked back to the kitchen and took a seat at one of the island stools and prompted Max to lie down. Thankfully, he actually obeyed. “That’s too bad.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s surprising.” She pushed a mug of tea toward me. “Everyone knows he rushed off to marry her too quickly.”
I could hear what my mom wasn’t saying. He rushed off to marry her after you dumped him. So it’s your fault.
Granted, he had started dating Lorelei almost immediately after our breakup and they’d gotten married just a few months later. I wasn’t angry about that now, but it had stung at the time. We’d dated for five years—from our senior year of high school until after I graduated from college—so you’d think he might have needed some time before moving on.