Not My Mother by Miranda Smith (lightweight ebook reader .txt) 📕

The front door is unlocked. Des jerks her head but relaxes when she sees me. She beams when she sees Ava.

“Finally acting as though you have a job?” she asks.

“Consider the past few days personal leave,” I say, taking the diaper bag off my shoulder and resting it on a nearby chair. “Besides, I don’t remember being consulted about reopening the place.”

“Consider it an executive decision.” She pats her hands with a washrag, then leans against the counter. “Can’t say you missed much. Opening day was a disaster, so I’m closing up early. We maybe had ten customers all day, and half of them I suspect were some form of media.”

“That’s disappointing.”

“I dipped into a big portion of our savings to replace what the police ruined. Business will have to pick up, otherwise we’ll stay in the hole. And the other local businesses hanging us out to dry doesn’t help.” Des whips her head at me. “You talked to Holly Dale yet?”

“Not yet.” I exhale, rubbing my forehead. “I will.”

“I really thought people would have Eileen’s back more. The people around here should know she’s a good person, regardless of what lies the press cooks up.”

Des is the only person convinced they are still lies. Everyone else, even Carmen, sees the mountains of evidence against Mom. They see how the timeline of Sarah Paxton fits perfectly with Mom’s own mysterious past. I still don’t know who tipped off the police in the first place, but it must have been someone convinced of Mom’s guilt. I’m starting to wonder why Des continues to look the other way. Maybe she knows more about Mom’s past than she’s willing to admit.

“The customers, did they say anything about Mom? Or the arrest?”

“Not a word. That’s a nod to their support. It shows some people still believe Eileen is a good person. It’s amazing how easily some people forget.”

I know that last comment was aimed to hurt me.

“Why didn’t she tell me about the cancer, Des? I understand if she thought I couldn’t handle the other stuff. She thought I was too young. She was trying to protect me. Whatever. But why wouldn’t she tell me about the cancer?”

I watch as Des’ shoulders tense then relax.

“Everything you just said remains true, Marion. She was going to tell you, but she was looking out for you. She didn’t want everything to be about her.”

“Everything is about her, isn’t it? Ever since the party—the one she wanted so badly not to ruin—all we can talk about is Mom. Her lies. Her health. Her past.”

Des turns, her face thick and red. “Be careful. You’re sounding ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful?”

“Yes, ungrateful. I understand you are confused and you want the truth. No matter what she might have done before you came along, that woman gave you a good life. I was there for it.” She raises a shaky arm above her head, trying to stifle her anger. “I’m trying to support you just as much as I’m trying to remain loyal to her.”

Des sits in a chair, her body practically collapsing. She’s suffering in all this, too. My own grief has been so close, it makes me forget. If what the police are saying is true, I’m not the only person Mom has betrayed. And I’m not the only person having to sort out my allegiance to her.

“I came in to see if you need help with anything.” I sit in front of her, holding out my hand to touch hers.

“What makes you think I need help?”

“You just reopened the place. Do you need help closing up? Setting up for tomorrow? I’ve been out for a few days, but I still know how this works.”

Behind me, the door opens. I expect a straggler, but instead, see Evan.

“Marion,” he says, as surprised as I am.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

I instinctively pull Ava closer. This is the first time they’ve been in a room together. He’s never met her before. Never asked.

“I invited him,” Des says, standing.

“I’ve been helping Des here and there,” he says. “You know, with the reopening.”

“Why?” I ask him, then turn to Des. “I thought you had Michael to help?”

“Another set of hands doesn’t hurt. Don’t worry about it. You’ve been taking personal days, remember?”

Des begins gathering the empty mugs. “Excuse me.” As she walks past, she nudges my shoulder. I take the hint, following her into the kitchen. Evan walks into the dining hall, staring at the television, which is muted, pretending not to listen to our conversation.

I lower my voice another octave. “What’s he doing here? Don’t you think I’m dealing with enough?”

“He might be your ex-boyfriend, but he’s still my friend,” she whispers, walking back toward the dining area.

I hear Evan’s unmistakable chuckle behind me, and I feel my skin burn hot. The dynamic between Evan and Des always takes me back to my adolescence. It’s like they are ganging up against me, even though there is no way Des could have predicted I’d be stopping by the restaurant tonight. It’s just a coincidence.

As for why Evan has really returned to North Bay, I don’t know. It goes against everything he told me at the time of our breakup. A degree from Sanderson would set him up for success anywhere. Why come back here? And why now?

“I’m happy to run into you,” Evan says, stepping forward. “I’ve actually been wanting to talk.”

“I’m sure you need to help Des—”

“Not much left to do,” she volunteers.

“It’s almost time for Ava to go to bed. I hadn’t planned on staying long.”

“Then don’t,” Des says. “Let her play out her energy. She’ll sleep like a rock by the time you take her home.”

“We could take a walk on the beach,” Evan says, placing a hand on the back of his neck. He’s smirking. He must enjoy the serendipitous way this evening has worked in his favor.

I turn to look at Des, but she is already turned away from me. She’s holding a remote in