Page 46 of Finding Amanda

"Aren't we curt this morning? I was wondering if you had plans for Thanksgiving. I would like to see my granddaughters,since you didn't bother to bring them around during the holidays last year. And I know you hate to be here for Christmas."

A familiar flush of shame washed over her. Pat wouldn't let her forget that terrible holiday. It was the Christmas after Mark proposed. The woman would never forgive her.

As if she'd had a choice. The head chef's sister had been in a terrible car accident. Somebody had to cover for him, and Amanda—she was ashamed to admit—was all too happy to volunteer. Any excuse to avoid spending a week in the dragon's lair. Besides that, filling in for the head chef was a great opportunity to show the owner what she could do. A few days of hard work and she hoped to earn the promotion she'd been dreaming of for months.

She and Mark had the biggest fight of their relationship when she told him she'd volunteered to work. He went to New Hampshire without her. She agreed to drive up as soon as she got off work Christmas Eve. The fact that she did, indeed, get promoted after that week was small consolation, knowing what the promotion had cost.

In her defense, who knew Mark's parents were going to announce their divorce the day before Christmas Eve?

When Mark called her and told her the news, she'd wanted to rush up to New Hampshire to be with him, but she was at work. She arranged to have someone work for her the following day and, after her shift ended, she went home to her small apartment in Providence, slept a couple of hours, and drove to Mark's childhood home in the pre-dawn hours on December twenty-fourth.

She arrived just after sunrise to find Pat sipping coffee at the kitchen table. Mark, Pat informed her, had not come home the night before.

Amanda called his cell, only to hear it ringing in the bedroom upstairs.

Pat spent the next hour theorizing about what might have happened to him. Maybe he was lying drunk in a ditch somewhere. Maybe he was in jail. Maybe they should check the hospitals. If only Amanda had been there for him, none of it would have happened.

She'd been too shocked to defend herself. She stared at the door, willing Mark to come back, praying Pat's theories were wrong, trying to come up with an explanation that didn't involve his death. Or arrest. The only one she came up with involved another woman, and the other woman in her imagination was Annalise, his high school sweetheart.

And then she hoped he'd been arrested. They could recover from that, but if he cheated on her . . .

Mark walked in the door around eight o'clock wearing rumpled clothes and a day-old beard. He greeted her with a kiss and a mask that tried to say he was happy to see her.

"Where've you been?" she asked with a shaky voice.

"Dad's. I stopped by to see his new apartment last night, and we had a couple of drinks. I didn't want to drive home."

Pat took over the conversation from there. "Oh, you were getting drunk with your father, and you couldn't be bothered to call? I've been worried sick. Figures it never occurred to either of you to call me . . ."

Mark dropped the mask, revealing pure guilt beneath it. He'd apologized to his mother, who offered a morsel of forgiveness along with a feast of bitterness. Typical fare cooked up by Patricia Truman Johnson.

They escaped to Mark's childhood bedroom, where Amanda apologized for not being there for him. He forgave her quickly, like always, but sometimes she wondered if he still held a grudge.

At least there was no question where Pat stood on the matter. The woman hated her, had long before that day. ButAmanda didn't have to put up with her condemnation any longer.

"I guess you'll have to talk to Mark about the holidays," Amanda said, trying to sound polite. "We haven't worked out a schedule, but if he wants to make the trip?—"

"What do you mean, you haven't worked out a schedule?"

"For the holidays."

"Well, I wonder if perhaps you two could pencil me into your holidayschedule." The final word dripped with sarcasm. "If it's not too much trouble."

"What do you mean ustwo? If Mark wants to bring the kids to see you, that's his prerogative. I won't stop him."

The silence on the other end of the phone lasted so long, she wondered if they'd been disconnected. "Pat?"

"What's going on, Amanda? Is there something you need to tell me?"

"Something I need to . . . ?" With a jolt, Amanda understood the problem. Mark hadn't told his mother they were separated. Amanda didn't know why—the woman would be jubilant.

Well, now that she and Mark weren't together, Amanda didn't have to put up with the dragon lady's fiery remarks any longer.

"Mark didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"We're separated."

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