All Summer Long (Fool's Gold #9)(61)

May cracked an egg into the batter and picked up the wooden spoon. “By telling her Clay is too good for her? I’m his mother and even I’m offended by that.”

Dominique paced the length of the small, old-fashioned kitchen. The farmhouse needed a major renovation. The furniture in the living room was beyond appalling. Still, she found the place oddly homey. It looked nothing like her beautifully decorated residences, but there was something here that went beyond appearances.

“I wanted to help,” Dominique insisted, not sure why her position was so difficult for everyone to understand. She’d spoken the truth. Why was she the villain?

“Trying to help isn’t an excuse for bad behavior,” May said bluntly. “You hurt Charlie’s feelings. You were mean and thoughtless.”

Dominique flinched. “How can you say that?”

“I’m only trying to help.”

Dominique opened her mouth, then closed it. “Not a very subtle lesson.”

“I wasn’t trying to be subtle. When it comes to interpersonal relationships, you tend to miss subtle cues.” Her expression softened. “Think about how your words sounded to her. She didn’t hear the concern. All she understood was criticism. You’re her mother. You’re supposed to be on her side. Yet there you were, telling her she wasn’t pretty enough or special enough. I like Charlie very much. As far as I’m concerned, Clay would be a lucky man to have her in his life.”

“But she’s so odd with her short hair. She won’t wear makeup and I think she would rather die than put on a dress.”

May laughed. “So? She’s loyal and caring. She risks her life every day on her job. If she’ll do that for strangers, imagine how much she would give to her husband or her children. Why wouldn’t I want that kind of devotion for my son and grandchildren?”

Character over appearance? Dominique considered the concept. “You’re saying you don’t mind she’s not beautiful.”

May reached for the measuring cup filled with peanut butter. “I’m saying Charlie is beautiful in ways that matter to me.”

“My way is easier,” Dominique told her.

May laughed. “I’m sure that’s true, but it’s not helping your relationship with your daughter.”

That was true enough. Dominique thought about the angry words Chantal had yelled at her. About the rape. The accusations made her uncomfortable, as if she’d been in the wrong. But at the time, the college boy had been so clear. He’d said Chantal had been following him around campus, as if she had a crush. That had made so much more sense than the alternative. But if she’d been mistaken, she’d abandoned her daughter when she’d been needed most.

“There’s an old saying in medicine that I think applies in life,” May told her. “First, do no harm. That might be a good place for you to start.”

“Don’t hurt her feelings?” Dominique asked, already knowing the answer to the question. “I can try. What else?”

May pointed to the bowl. “I don’t like peanut-butter cookies. But Shane and Clay do. So I make them. Because it’s a way for me to show my boys how much I love them. If you want Charlie in your life, you need to offer her something. A relationship with a person that is positive to her. We all want to be around people who make us feel good about ourselves. I’m sure you’re always the most interesting person in the room, but children aren’t always looking for witty conversation. Sometimes simply being accepted is enough.”

“But shouldn’t she be doing that for me? I’m her mother.”

“You’re the one who wants to connect.”

Dominique wanted to point out that was hardly fair, but suspected May wouldn’t be impressed by the argument.

She glanced out the window and saw a white van driving onto the property. The vehicle didn’t stop at the house.

“Who are they?” she asked, pointing.

May glanced up. “Archeologists. We have an old Máa-zib burial site on the property. It’s quite the find.”

Old bones weren’t that interesting to Dominique. She had more contemporary problems.

“I don’t know how to do it,” she admitted. “I’ve only ever cared about myself. And Dan. I did love him.” But he’d always been the one to take care of her. She wasn’t sure what it meant to give.

“I suspect it will take less effort than you think.”

* * *

CHARLIE MONITORED THE obstacle course she’d set up. While it wasn’t part of the CPAT testing, it increased agility and endurance—both of which the potential trainees would need. She held a stopwatch in one hand and yelled for the next person to go.

Normally she enjoyed the obstacle course. She could set it up different ways, presenting different challenges. Everyone could score themselves on accuracy versus time and it was fun. But today she couldn’t seem to concentrate. Not with Clay around.

This was the first time she’d seen him since they’d made love. She was hyperaware of him and worse, afraid every person within a ten-mile radius knew what they’d done.

Telling herself she was imagining things didn’t seem to be helping. Logically she knew that Clay was acting exactly the same and that even if she was the one being weird, the potential volunteers were more worried about getting it right than any ticks or sidelong glances on her part.