Page 99 of Personal Foul

Mom rubs my back. “We’ll get through this, honey. We’ll get through this together. You and me.”

I nod. What else is there to say?

She draws in a breath like she wants to say something, but hesitates for a moment. Finally, “Are you going to see your dad while you’re in town?”

I shake my head. ”I texted him. But he said it was best if I stay away. He says he doesn’t want me to worry about him right now.”

Pulling me in for another hug, Mom heaves a sigh. “I’m sorry, honey. He won’t let me see him, either. I think he’s hoping that if he keeps his distance, the negative aura of his crimes will be kept away from us.”

I snort. “I’m not sure it actually works that way.”

“Yeah. I am well aware of that.”

“I’m happy you got a job though. I would suggest we go out to lunch to celebrate, but given our financial circumstances, maybe that’s not the best idea.”

She nods. “Yeah, it’ll be a few weeks before I start getting paid. So we both need to save our money for our living expenses until then.” She holds up a finger. “But. I have another idea.”

With that, she stands and heads for the kitchen. Curious, I follow her.

On the breakfast bar sits Mom’s favorite cake stand, bearing a round chocolate cake. She removes the clear dome with a flourish. “Ta-da! I made a cake. It’s not much. But I had all the ingredients on hand. And it should taste good, even if doesn’t look all that fancy.”

I pull plates out of the cabinet while Mom gets a knife to cut the cake. “You know, Mom. I’ve never been that into fancy things anyway.”

She gives me an appraising look before cutting into the cake. “You’re right. I guess I’ve always been so distracted by everything else, so I never actually picked up on that. Even when we tried to give you fancy things, you would use them, because you’re eminently practical—you get that from your father—but you always picked out simple things for yourself. Even now, you rent a fairly basic apartment like any other college student when we could’ve gotten you something much nicer.”

Setting the plates on the counter, I shrug. “I’ve always just wanted a normal college experience. I appreciate quality things. But quality doesn’t necessarily mean it has to cost a million dollars.”

“You know,” she says as she places generous slices of cake on the plates, “you sound just like your sister.”

Picking up the plate, I pull out a fork and take a big bite. “Oh yeah? Do you have lots of conversations like this with Hope?”

Mom shrugs, getting a fork from the drawer before I can close it. “I wouldn’t say lots. But when she and Eric were house shopping, we kept telling her that she could buy something much more expensive than what she got. And she said that she didn’t need anything fancy. She wanted a home where she could raise a family and just be normal. And even gifts for birthdays or Christmas or for Grace, she tells me not to waste my money on high-end designers, instead sending me links to items that are high-quality, usually from sustainable companies, and asks for those. I guess it’s a good thing you girls never really got accustomed to living in the lap of luxury. Because I think those days are over.”

“Wait. I thought you were going to become a famous artist. Maybe you can climb back into the lap of luxury one day.”

Mom laughs, smiling as she takes a bite of her cake. “You know, I like the way you think.” She taps the fork against her lips. “Your dad and I did frequent galleries quite a bit. I still have the contact information for several of them. Of course, that was for when I was looking for pieces to add to our home. I should probably sell some of those, too, while I’m at it.” She waves a hand. “But those are all decisions to make later. Right now, we’re celebrating my new job, and the fact that my baby girl is here to visit.”

She shoos me to the table and we both sit. “Now. Tell me about this boy you’re here with. When do I get to meet him?”

Grinning, I shake my head. “I’m not sure, Mom. Probably not this weekend. He’s pretty busy with family stuff.”

“Maybe I’ll just have to make time to come visit you.”

“I’d like that.” I tell her more about Dylan, enjoying the ability to sit and talk at the kitchen table like we used to. Not usually over cake, but this was always where I’d tell her about my day, my difficulties with friends, and where she helped me plan for college. It’s at once familiar and foreign to be here with her.

Our conversations over the phone have been so stilted since the investigation began. I’m guessing it’s partly because there were all these things brewing, and she didn’t know how to tell me over the phone. I’m hoping that now that it’s out in the open, our relationship can get back to normal.

My relationship with my dad will never be the same. I need my relationship with at least one parent to be solid.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Dylan

Charity is all smiles when I show up at her house. I took an Uber and shared the route with her, so she meets me in front of her house, launching herself at me for a hug.

Laughing, I catch her against me and give her a quick kiss, cognizant of the fact there’s a good chance her mom is watching.

“Thanks for coming,” she says, grabbing my hand and leading me towards the front door. “My mom really wanted to meet you.”

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