Page 45 of Hot Pursuit
Same as always.
This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation or the first time he’d played the part of parent more than sibling. In high school, it had been about her grades and her sports teams. In college, about her ambition. Now in real life, it was about her job. His sister had a good heart, like their mom, but when it came down to it, she was a flake. But she was young. He still had hope she’d grow out of it when she found something she was passionate about.
“I’ll talk to her,” Nate said, voice resigned.
“Thank you.”
“How’s Chris?” He shifted the conversation, going through the checklist. “How old is Gracie now?”
“Two in July, can you believe it? And Eve is four months pregnant, feeling great. They stopped by two weeks ago for Mother’s Day.”
“Did you get the flowers?” Nate sat up. He couldn’t always be there, but he always tried to remember.
“Oh, I did, Nathaniel. They were lovely. I must have forgotten to write in all the commotion. Caroline brought a new boyfriend to dinner, and she didn’t remember to tell me he was allergic to, oh, what was it again? Oh, strawberries! And I made a pie, and he thought it was cherry, and, well, we had to take him to the hospital and Gracie was crying and…”
Nate snorted. Now that, he was almost sad he’d missed. “Typical Caroline.”
“Chris is doing great though,” his mom rolled right on, pretending not to hear his comment. “He just sold two more houses this past month and bought another one to rehab. I’m so proud of him.”
“Me too, Mom, me too.”
If only you saw him in college, puking into the toilet bowl after his frat initiation.Nate shook his head. His brother had come a very long way.
“So, how are you?” his mother asked. He hated how tentative she sounded. “Where are you now?”
“I can’t say.”
“What are you working on?”
“I, uh, again, can’t say.”
She let out a little laugh. “I feel like I’ve gone back in time and am talking to your father.”
He could perfectly envision her sitting at the kitchen counter, shaking her head as she played with the frayed ends of her worn-out lemon-pattern apron—the one his father had picked out when they went on that second honeymoon to Italy, the year he was supposed to retire then told her when they got home that he couldn’t. Twelve months later, he was gone.
“But work is going well?”
“Work is great.”
“When can you come home? Just for a visit? We all miss you.”
“I miss you guys too,” he said, the automatic reply rolling from his lips. But then he perked up, sitting a little straighter. “Mom, the investigation I’ve been working on for a while, we might have finally caught a break. I might be able to stop by soon.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she gushed, voice animated. And then she paused. He could hear her hesitation through the phone. It made his shoulders writhe uncomfortably. “Just…don’t work your life away, Nathaniel.”
“Mom—”
“No, I know,” she interrupted, as though needing to get everything out quickly, just to make sure she actually said it. “I used to have the same argument with your father. You’re doing important things, sweetie—I understand that. I just don’t want you to wake up one day and wonder what happened with your life. Where the time went. What it all meant. There are other jobs, even ones within the bureau itself. Less dangerous ones. Less time-consuming ones. Just think about it, okay?”
Nate lifted his fingers and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Okay, Mom.”
“I love you, Nathaniel.”
“Love you too.”
He dropped his hand into his lap and hung up, suddenly drained. Taking a deep breath, he leaned back, closing his eyes, trying to halt the tight bundle of stress beginning to knot its way across his insides.
It always came down to the same argument in the end.
