Page 62 of Snowed In on Valentine's Day

“Call me Glenda,” she said with another warm smile. “It is lovely to meet you too.”

“Hazel and I were in the middle of something, as you can see,” he said, his voice containing a warning note. “Did you plan on staying the night—”

She laughed. “Oh, no. I have a hotel room booked. Don’t worry about that. Though I see your new home is lovely. Stately. Even Randall would be impressed.”

Peter looked as though he couldn’t care less what Randall thought, but he refrained from commenting. “So, what are you doing here?”

Her smile dropped briefly before she recovered. “I’m here to see my son, of course. Can we sit down?” She looked over at me. “I’m truly sorry to interrupt. It’s not often I get to see my son though.”

“It’s not often youchooseto see your son,” he snapped. After a long inhale and exhale, he said, “Fine, let’s sit down.”

“I should go,” I said, stepping back around the other side of the couch as if to fade into the background. “I was—”

“No, Hazel,” he barked. When my eyes widened, he added more softly, “Stay. Please.”

Part of me wanted to leave this weird, painfully awkward encounter as soon as possible. Another part of me perceived his words as a plea for moral support—not that he’deverphrase it that way. He didn’t want to be alone with her, for some reason. He needed me. Plus, I was curious, so I shrugged and followed them to sit on one of the couches.

His mother watched our interaction with decided interest but merely smiled brightly at me and said nothing. I didn’t know whether to trust her smile—it looked genuine, but she was a politician’s wife, after all.

“So how are you doing, darling? I had to hear it from your father that you have health issues. Stress-induced heart issues, he said … well, I guess you get that from him. But are you healthy? That’s far more important than keeping your father’scompany alive.” She pursed her lips. “I don’t like having to hear this kind of news from that man.”That manbeing her ex-husband, I assumed. The pinched look on her face confirmed it.

The muscles in Peter’s jaw flexed, and I could see how much effort he put into responding in an even tone. “I’m better. And I didn’t want to bother you. I know how busy you are.”

“Never too busy for my oldest son, darling.”

He scoffed. “Right. I haven’t heard from you since Christmas. And I am youronlyson, Mother.”

“Well, you know Jared is like a son to me.” She turned to me. “He was only four years old when I married Randall. His mother sadly passed a few years ago, so I’m the only mother figure in his life now.”

“Considering that he’s a grown man, I’m not sure he needs a mother figure in his life.”

I could tellthatstung. Her hands shook a bit as she shifted in her seat. Still, she raised her chin. “Everyone needs a mother.”

“You could’ve fooled me,” he muttered.

I didn’tthinkthe woman was going to cry, but I didn’t want to take any chances, so I decided to interject. “Peter, why don’t you tell her about—”

He shook his head rapidly, so I stopped. I looked over helplessly at Glenda, but she was fumbling around in her purse. She pulled out her phone and started scrolling before looking up briefly at us. “Just a moment …”

“By all means, take your time,” he said dryly.

“Aha, here it is!” She held the phone out to him. “Look at my call log, darling. Ididtry to reach you. It was on February 14 at 9:30 …” The words died on her lips as she glanced up at Peter and then lowered the phone to her lap. “Peter, darling, are you OK?”

His face was red and his breathing erratic as he stared at her and then clenched his fists tight as he rose and bolted out of the room.

Shocked, I gasped and looked at Glenda. “Oh my—do you think he’s OK? Maybe one of us should go after him?”

Glenda’s face was white as she shakily placed her phone back in her purse and stood. “No, I—I should go. It’s late, and I still need to drive to the hotel. You … you can check on him, right?”

I stared at her, confusion and shock swirling through me. She looked so shaken, but … she was just going toleave?

And more importantly, what was going on with him?

I rose to my feet as well. “All right, if you need to go … well, I’ll tell him you left.”

“Thank you, dear. I … I will—please tell him I’ll be in touch.” And then she hurried to the front entrance and donned her coat before leaving.

What kind of mother justleaves—

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