“Mom.”
“Hmm?” She peers at me, oblivious.
“Language?”
“Oh, right. Sorry.” She waves off my soft reprimand as if it’s nothing. “Anyway, why don’t you tell me how you two ended up together again after all these …” Her words trail, her attention on something—or someone.
I lean closer to catch her line of sight. When I see Penelope stalking down the narrow aisle toward us, followed by Travis and an older couple I recognize from the newspapers as Penelope’s parents, I desperately wish we’d listened to my gut and stayed home.
Twenty-Seven
The vein in Penelope’s forehead pulses as she glares at Shane.
“Hey, Mom!” Cody chirps, but his eyes dart around the table, gauging everyone’s moods. He senses that something is off.
Shane’s flat expression doesn’t fool me. He’d rather be anywhere than here. “Hey, Pen.” He nods at Travis.
Meanwhile, my mother has been struck momentarily speechless as she stares at her ex-lover, Peter Rhodes. I know they must have crossed paths at some point over the years. The town is small, his accounting firm is a prominent business, and Mom is social. But how long has it been? My guess, based on both their startled faces, is a good while.
I haven’t seen him in years. He’s aged greatly since his picture made the local newspapers on the regular eighteen years ago. He must be in his late fifties now, maybe early sixties. Miraculously, he still has a full head of hair, though it has turned white-gray.
“Peter,” my mother manages finally. “Good to see you again.” She sounds somber rather than her usual playful.
“Yes. You look wonder—” He clears his throat before the rest of that sentence has a chance to escape. His blue eyes are oddly bright. “I see you’ve met my grandson?”
“Your grandson.” Mom’s gaze flickers to Penelope, then to Shane, as the pieces click together.
Melissa eases in to claim the crammed spot beside Peter. She has always been an attractive woman—the source for Penelope’s looks, though not her fiery-red hair—but she has aged considerably too. Her face wears cracks and crevices; her once-long auburn hair has been cropped short. Her body, though still slender and graceful, has succumbed to the effects of gravity.
She hooks her arm through his and hugs it tight to her. It’s a possessive move. Given the malice with which those tight green eyes—sage, like her daughter’s—regard my mother, I’m not at all surprised she feels the need to stake her claim. By comparison, Dottie Reed looks every bit the evil temptress, at least fifteen years younger and intent on luring men of weak fortitude such as her husband.
Worse, she has the track record to prove she can do it.
With a small horde gathering by our booth, we’re beginning to attract casual looks, but I don’t think anyone has noticed the storm cloud brewing yet.
“Penelope, I trust you’ll deal with this accordingly,” Melissa says. I see where her daughter gets that condescending tone from. Shifting her harsh gaze to her grandson, her face softens instantly. “Why don’t you come have dinner with us?”
Cody looks to Shane, then to Penelope, as if waiting for one of them to speak or guide him. “But … I want to stay with my dad and Scarlet.”
I guess we’re a package deal now.
Oh, shit.
Penelope’s eyes flare with a mixture of rage and hurt.
“You know what, I think I’m going to shift over to the bar.” In a rare moment of reading the room correctly—and probably a desire to remove herself from family strife that she knows she’s a key instigator of—my mom collects her purse and glass of wine and shimmies out of our booth. With a polite nod to her ex-lover, she sashays to the bar.
Leaving us to clean up her mess.
“Can I speak to you outside?” Penelope hisses, glaring at Shane.
Shane sighs heavily. He wipes the hot sauce off his fingers with his napkin. “Hey, buddy, you stay and eat your dinner with Scarlet, okay? I’ll be back in a minute.” He slides out of the booth. “He’ll be staying where he is,” he says calmly, to Penelope or Melissa, or both.
“I’m not comfortable with—”
“Too bad,” he snaps. His temper is being tested now.
Penelope clamps her mouth shut.
Melissa shifts that hateful gaze to me but doesn’t argue, tugging on her husband’s arm.
Travis watches his potential in-laws hustle to their table but doesn’t follow them. He looks as happy as Shane does. “I’ll be at the bar,” he informs Penelope in an aloof tone before strolling away.
I don’t blame him. If I didn’t have Cody with me, and I wasn’t worried about this compelling urge to throttle my mother, I might join him.
What a disastrous turn this night has taken.
I watch Shane’s rigid back as he follows Penelope out the door and to the side street where he and I had our own fight months ago, and then I turn attention back to the boy caught in the middle of this mess.