The Atonement (The Arrangement, #3)(3)

I saw Peter everywhere—in the shapes of the trees across the lawn, behind the columns as we neared them. I couldn’t tell my children this, though, so instead, I moved forward without a shred of hesitation. They needed to believe every lie I was selling them.

Every lie I was trying desperately to sell myself.

When we’d reached the door, I pressed a finger into the doorbell. It was just after six in the morning, which meant my mother should be awake, though probably not expecting company. I should’ve called, I supposed, but that would give her the chance to turn us away, and I couldn’t risk that.

After a few moments’ pause, I pressed a finger into the doorbell again and gave the kids an encouraging nod.

“Happy faces,” I reminded them. “It’s early. Let’s all be friendly, okay?”

Several awkward minutes passed, giving me just enough time to begin second-guessing my decision, before the door swung open and my mother stood in front of us. Her graying-brown hair was pulled back in a soft headband that matched the white robe she’d tied around herself. She looked left, then right, as if she couldn’t see us, then eyed me.

“Ainsley? What in the world are you doing here?” She studied the children. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine,” I assured her. “We came for a visit.”

“A visit?” She said it as if I’d suggested we’d come for the royal ball.

My forced smile burned my lips. I lifted the suitcase in my hand. “Can we come in?”

Seemingly taken aback, my mother blinked out of a trance, then stepped aside. “Of-of course you may.” I ignored the snide correction. “You’ve just caught me off guard… I just saw you all at Dylan’s birthday dinner. I thought that would be all I’d see of you until Christmas. Thanksgiving, at least.”

“Well, here we are.”

We shuffled inside, dropping our bags on the floor of the foyer.

“Hey, Grandma,” Maisy mumbled, unenthusiastically.

“Hello, dear. What on earth are you all wearing?” Mom asked, once she’d gotten a better look at us.

“We just came from Florida,” I told her. “We were on vacation.”

“And you couldn’t stop to shower? Jesus, Ainsley, you look like farm animals.” She glanced at our feet.

I patted Dylan on the shoulder. “Why don’t you kids take the bags upstairs and put them in my old room? Then you can take your showers, brush your teeth, and freshen up a bit while I cook us breakfast. Do you remember where it is?”

“Yeah.” He lifted his bag. “Dibs on the first shower.”

“No fair! I was going to call it,” Riley argued, grabbing his own bag and rushing to beat his brother up the stairs.

“Boys!” I chided.

I waited until all three children had disappeared up the stairs and around the corner before addressing my mom. “I’m sorry we’ve just shown up here. It’s a long story, but—”

“You could’ve at least called,” she said stiffly. “What’s wrong? Where’s Peter?”

“He’s not with us. I took the kids to Florida for the week before they went on fall break. We were planning to stay two full weeks, but things changed.” I thought it would be best to keep the story straight between what I told my mother and what I’d told the kids. “Peter was supposed to join us, but he got caught up at work.” I paused. “You haven’t heard from him, have you?”

She eyed me. “Why would I have heard from Peter?” Then her expression grew grim. “You mean you haven’t?”

“No, I have. He’s just really busy with his new project. We drove through a few dead spots overnight, so I wanted to make sure he hadn’t called you… Anyway, like I said, I’m sorry we’re dropping in on you unannounced. I meant to call, but I…didn’t. The kids needed showers and food, and I have a few errands to run. I didn’t want to leave them home alone.”

She was quiet for a few moments, and I worried she might tell us to leave. Instead, she stepped forward, reaching for my bag. “Better here than your father’s.”

I closed my eyes with a soft laugh, relieved to be accepted, and nodded. “Thank you.”

“I’ll fix them breakfast. Lord knows how you always burn things. What do you think they’ll want?”

I let the remark roll over me. “Um, what do you have? Cereal, maybe? Oatmeal? I don’t want you to go through any trouble. I can throw it together for them.”

Before we made our way into the kitchen, she placed my bag at the bottom of the stairs. “Seriously? Oatmeal? Cereal? You know me better than that. You can choose to feed your children like modern vermin in your household, but in my house, our bodies are our temples.” In the kitchen, she opened the fridge, tapping a finger to her lips. “We’ll do an egg white omelet with spinach for Maisy. And…the same, but I’ll add some cheese and turkey bacon for those growing boys.” She pulled ingredients from the fridge, and I flinched, my hand going to my wrist involuntarily. I dug a nail into my skin, recalling the numerous times I’d stood in this exact spot and been ridiculed for my food choices and the size of my body.

“No,” I said sharply.

She paused, looking at me as if I’d just grown a spare head. “Excuse me?”