Till Death(4)

I let all of that sink in as I took a drink of the sugary coffee, just the way I loved it. Basically what Mom was saying was that she was doing most of this all by herself. That explained the deeper lines around her eyes, the new ones around her mouth, and the silvery tones to her blond hair. Running an inn or any business with a skeleton crew would take its toll on anyone, and I knew that the last ten years hadn’t been easy on her for a whole different set of reasons.

The same reasons they’d been hard for me.

Sometimes, not often, I was able to forget what had driven me away from my home. Those moments were few and far between, but when they happened, it was . . . the warmest sense of peace I’d ever felt. It was like the way it was before. Like I could pretend I was an ordinary woman with a career I sort of loved and a past that was common, boring even. It wasn’t that I hadn’t come to terms with everything that had happened . . . to my family and me. I had six years of intensive therapy to thank for that, but I still welcomed those moments when I forgot, and I was grateful for them.

“You’ve been doing all of this by yourself, Mom.” I placed my cup on the table and crossed my leg over my knee. “That’s a lot.”

“It’s . . . manageable.” Mom smiled, but it didn’t reach her whiskey-colored eyes. Eyes identical to mine. “But you’re home now. I won’t be doing this by myself.”

I nodded as my gaze dropped to the cup. “I should’ve come home—”

“Don’t say it.” Mom reached across the small table and folded her hand over mine. “You had a very good job—”

“My job was to basically babysit my boss to make sure he didn’t cheat on his third wife.” I paused, grinning. “Obviously, I wasn’t very good at it since number three is on her way out.”

She shook her head as she lifted her cup. “Honey, you were an executive assistant for a man who ran a multibillion-dollar consulting business. You had more responsibilities than making sure he kept it in his pants.”

I giggled.

The only thing that rivaled my former boss’ drive when it came to business was his drive to screw as many women as humanly possible. But what she said was true. Late nights at the office; dinner meetings; and a constant, ever-changing schedule with nonstop flights coast to coast and around the globe had been my life for five years. It had its pros and cons, and leaving my job hadn’t been a decision I’d made lightly. But my job had allowed me to save up some money that would make this transition into a much . . . slower life a little easier.

“You had a life in Atlanta,” she continued, and I raised a brow. My time had basically been Mr. Berg’s time. “And your life back here wasn’t easy to return to.”

I tensed. She wasn’t going to go there, was she? She squeezed my hand.

She was so going to go there.

“This town and all the memories weren’t easy for you to come back to, and I know that, honey. I know that.” She smiled again, but it was brittle. “So I understand how big of a deal this was for you. What you had to overcome just to make the decision to do this, and you’re doing it for me. Don’t belittle what you’re doing right now.”

Oh God, I was going to start crying again.

Yes, I was doing this for her, but I was . . . I was also doing it for myself.

I slipped my hand free and nearly gulped down the coffee before I burst into tears and face-planted onto the iron table like I’d done way too many times in the past.

She sat back. “So,” she said, clearing her throat. “Several boxes of your stuff arrived on Wednesday, and James put them upstairs for you. I imagine you still have some stuff in the car?”

“Yeah,” I murmured as she rose and carried her cup to the industrial sink. “I can get those boxes up there. It’s only clothes, and I could use the exercise after being in the car for a million hours.”

“You might change your mind after you remember how many steps you have to climb.” She washed out the cup. “We only have three guests right now, two of them checking out on Sunday, and then others—a newlywed couple—are checking out on Tuesday.”

I finished off the coffee. “What about upcoming reservations?”

Wiping her hands off on a dishtowel, Mom rattled off what was expected for the next week, and I loved that she could remember that.

“Is there anything I can help you with right now?” I asked when she was finished.

She shook her head. “Two out of the three reservations are dining here. The roasts still have some time on them. The potatoes are already boiled and cut, ready to go. If you want to help serve dinner, we still have about two hours.”

“Sounds good.” I started to rise. Movement out of the corner of my eyes snagged my attention.

Turning toward the window, I caught a blur of shadows to the right of the veranda. Branches from the dwarf apple tree rustled. My eyes narrowed as I leaned closer to the window. Something moved behind the trellis that was normally covered with vines, a shadow deeper than the rest and keeping close to the hedges. I waited for someone to step out, but when that didn’t happen, my gaze tracked over the garden. Not seeing anything, I returned my attention to the veranda. The chaise lounge and other seats out on the veranda were empty, but I’d sworn I’d seen someone outside.

“What are you looking at, honey?”