Finlay Donovan Knocks 'Em Dead(Finlay Donovan #2)(62)

And there it was.

Of course she had a reason for coming over unannounced and making me dinner. Nicholas, she called him. No one else called him that. It sounded like a pet name, as if she’d already adopted him into the family.

“It wasn’t a date, Ma.”

“Yes, it was,” Vero said around her cookie. “Come on, Finlay. Tell us all about it. I’m dying to know if you sampled his biscuits.”

Wine sprayed out my nose. I risked a glance at my mother as I reached for a napkin, but she was engrossed in her task, her head engulfed in a cloud of red wine steam as she poured a long thread of it into the pan.

“Vero says he took you out to dinner. I hope you wore a dress.” My mother’s expression was doubtful.

“Vero needs to learn to keep her big mouth shut.” She dodged as I crumpled my napkin and threw it at her.

“Finlay borrowed one of mine,” Vero informed her. “She looked like a million bucks. Or at least a hundred grand.” My mother glanced up with a puzzled expression. If Vero kept this up, I was going to cut her off.

My mother pointed the business end of her wooden spatula at me. “You shouldn’t have to borrow nice clothes. You should have called. I would have taken you shopping. See, this is why you should set aside some money. These advances you’re making on your books are all very uncertain. What if no one buys them? What if your publisher decides they don’t want you to write them anymore?”

“Gee, thanks, Ma. I’ve never stared at my ceiling all night, wondering about any of that.”

“I’m just saying, now that you have Vero to help you, you’d have time to apply for a government job.”

Vero smirked. “Personally, I’ve always felt there was better money in contract work.”

If I’d had a knife, I would have thrown it at her.

“The whole idea of it just seems very unstable,” my mother said, setting the roast in the oven. “How will you ever retire? You’ll be writing books until you’re eighty.”

“I’ll be fine. I have a very responsible accountant. Vero’s handling all my investments. She won’t let me die old and broke.”

Vero’s smile turned down behind her wineglass. As I opened my mouth to ask her what was wrong, the house phone rang. Vero reached for it and passed it over. Steven’s number flashed on the caller ID. I waited for the last possible ring before forcing myself to answer him. “Hey, Steven.” I sensed my mother’s ears perking as she dried and put away the dishes, her slow, quiet movements the only clue she was listening.

“Where’ve you been?” Steven asked. “I’ve been trying your cell all day.”

“I lost it yesterday.”

“You could have called last night to let me know.”

“I was busy.”

“With what?”

“None of your business.” I jumped as my mother slammed a cabinet.

“What was it?” he goaded. “A hot date? I thought your boyfriend was out of town.”

I rubbed my eyes, already exhausted by the conversation. “What do you want, Steven?”

“I want the kids next weekend.”

“We’ve discussed this already. I don’t want them going to your house.”

“Then I’ll come to yours. I’ll stay in your guest room.”

“That’s Vero’s room.”

“Then I’ll sleep on the couch.”

If he did that, Vero would probably learn to make Molotov cocktails on YouTube and light the sofa on fire herself. “The kids won’t even be here. They’re scheduled to spend the weekend with my parents.”

“Again?”

I mouthed an apology to my mom. I hadn’t even asked her.

“I’m not falling for that crap. I know what you’re doing. You’re making excuses to keep them away from me.”

“They’re not excuses—”

My mother grabbed the phone from my hand. “Steven,” she said through a saccharine smile, “so good to hear from you.” She tucked the phone between her ear and her shoulder, scrubbing the counter with unnecessary force. “Finlay tells me you’d like to spend time with the children. I think that’s just wonderful. Delia and Zach are staying with Paul and me next weekend so Finlay can spend time with her new boyfriend.” My mother called out to me, “Which one was it, sweetheart? The police officer or the law student? They’re both so handsome, I get them mixed up.”

“Savage,” Vero whispered.

“There’s plenty of room with us, Steven. And we haven’t seen you in far too long. Why don’t you pack a bag and come for the weekend? Then you and I can have a nice long chat. It’s way overdue.” I cringed. “What’s that? You’d like to speak to Finlay? Hold on, dear.” My mother’s smile was bitter as she thrust out the phone.

“Yes?” I cupped a hand over the receiver so he wouldn’t hear Vero giggling.

“This is not over, Finn.”

With a weary sigh, I said, “It never is.”

The line disconnected. I set the phone in the cradle and slumped into my chair, refilling my glass with the last dregs of the bottle. Vero stood up and stretched. “I’m going to put the kids in a bath. Don’t have too much fun without me.”