Somebody to Love (Gideon's Cove #3)(72)

Her mother snorted. “Well. Being dependent on a man seems to be the way of the world. My world, anyway. Father or husband, you and I have always had some man paying the bills.”

Ouch. “Guess those days are done.”

“I guess so. I hope you’ll be all right. I’d feel so much better if you did marry Collier.”

Poor Althea. She seemed completely unaware of her contradictions. Being dependent on men had gotten her where she was, but she wanted the same thing for Parker.

“I’ll be fine, Mom. I’m doing okay. I can get a job, I have a great education, and I’ll even have a little nest egg when I sell Julia’s house.”

“That shack?”

“That shack.”

Althea nodded. “I do have a little squirreled away, honey. If you need it. If Nicky needs it.”

Parker’s heart softened in a rush. “Thank you, Mom. But we’ll be okay. I promise.”

Althea opened her eyes. “Yes. You always were a tough little customer.” She smiled more broadly. “And Collier is definitely interested, if you need a backup plan.”

“He’s not my type.”

“Do you have a type, dear?”

An image of James grinning at her, all dark hair and tanned skin and sweat and smile. “I don’t know.”

“Well, if you want more children, you’d better get on it. Those eggs don’t last forever.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” Parker couldn’t help a laugh, and after a second, her mother smiled.

“I only want what’s best for you, Parker. Whatever that might be.”

“Right back at you, Mom.”

Underneath the table, her mother’s foot nudged hers. It was the most genuine gesture of affection Parker could remember. “Do you want to stay here?” she asked. “Nicky’s coming up a week from Sunday. He’d love to spend time with you.”

“I can’t, honey. I need to get back and see what I can squeeze out of that cadaver before he serves me with divorce papers.”

“Jeesh, Mom.” Parker laughed.

“Anyway, I have a flight out of Bangor at six. Tomorrow’s our charity fashion show. I’m walking the runway. Can you believe it? Part of the tryouts for Real Housewives.”

“I thought you were afraid Maury’s divorcing you.”

“What does that have to do with the show, sweetheart? Half those marriages are shams. More than half, I’m sure.”

“Right. Well, good luck,” Parker said, grimacing. “What are you wearing?”

“A gown. Feathers. It’s a Christian Siriano.”

“Cool.”

“You don’t even know who that is, do you?”

“Nope.”

“Yet I claim you as mine.” Althea stood up. “Lunch is on me, darling. Back to the coal mines. Don’t marry an older man, Parker. I can’t remember the last time I was properly laid.”

“You should talk to Lavinia. The woman is a walking sex education.”

Althea smiled. “She always was. Maybe I’ll stop by her shop. Well, take care, darling.” She air-kissed Parker on each side, but Parker pulled her bony little mother against her and hugged her properly, getting a little contact high on Chanel No. Five.

“Love you, Mommy.”

Althea squeezed her back. “I love you, too, honey. By the way, Pilates will do wonders for that little tummy of yours. And trust me, in five years, this—” she pinched Parker’s ass “—will be three inches lower than it is now. Tempus fugit. Bye! I’ll call soon.”

Bemused, Parker watched her mother leave, seemingly resigned to her fate with Maury. For the moment, anyway. Odd, that she’d come to Parker for help. Odd, but nice.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“DON’T KNOW WHY your panties are in such a twist,” Lavinia said a few hours later. “It’s not your wedding.”

“Well, I like Maggie. And Malone.” She wound a blue ribbon around the stem of a bouquet, fingers flying.

“So do I,” Lavinia said. “Just don’t see what’s so awful about them there.” She gestured toward the Teleflora book, circa 1972, at the arrangements she’d told Parker they’d be reproducing.

“Orange chrysanthemums, Vin? We’re not doing orange chrysanthemum centerpieces. Trust me. We can do gorgeous.”

“Well, for three hundred bucks, it’s gonna be only so gorgeous.” Lavinia did her trademark stub-out, and while Parker’s own hands had developed some calluses these past couple of weeks, the sight of ciggie against palm still made her flinch.

“It’ll be gorgeous. You’ll see. Get here early, okay?”

“No way in hell I’m getting up at 5:00 a.m., Parker. I got a date with His Honor tonight.”

“I’m sure what he’s doing is illegal.”

“Oh, it is, all right. In some states.”

Parker laughed. “I meant, making you go out with him instead of fining you for growing pot—”

“Medical marijuana, please.”

“—without a license.”

“Whatever, Parker. I’m just scraping by with the flowers. Figured the pot would help. I’m hardly a drug dealer.”