Page 145 of Snowed In
“We’ve got a dishwasher, you know.”
“It relaxes me,” she says, dipping her hands into the soapy water.
“Do you need some help?”
“You can pass me the plates on the table.”
I do just that, lingering by her side. “I could dry,” I offer, and she smiles.
“Well, you must beverybored.”
I ignore her, grabbing a dishcloth and starting on the stack of plates. “If the snow’s not too bad tomorrow, we should go for a walk. Maybe into the village?”
“Maybe,” she agrees. “If Aidan feels up to it.”
“What do you mean?”
“He fell, apparently,” she says, her tone not changing as she rinses a wine glass and sets it to the side. “Tripped on the stairs.” She squeezes the sponge. “Isaac fell in the snow too. I saw him when I was at his parents. He bruised his jaw. Says he hit a rock.”
I fall silent, concentrating on polishing the smudges I pretend I see.
“That was your opening,” she says after a minute, and my throat tightens.
“Mam…” But I can’t. I don’t even know where to begin.
“I didn’t invite him to the fundraiser,” she continues when I don’t. “I want you to know that.”
“I know you didn’t.”
“I’ve had my suspicions these last few years looking back on everything, but I just—”
“I’m okay,” I say softly, and she takes a breath, her hands stilling in the water. “I promise. Butmaybe we don’t talk about this right now? Please? It’s all a little…” I wave my fingers around my head, accidentally flicking suds everywhere.
“I guess you’ve had a long day,” she says, finally lifting her gaze to mine. “But we’ll talk soon.”
“We will.”
We watch each other for a moment, and then she hands me another glass. “Maybe you should go change.”
“Change? Why?”
“Before we start with the movies.”
“But we’re just going to—” I jump, almost dropping the glass as something hits against the wall outside. “What was that?”
“Aidan’s shoveling the snow,” Mam says, unconcerned.
“By throwing it against the side of the house?”
Another thump, and I swear I hear muffled voices.
“Do we have guests?” I ask.
“I don’t think so. Use a fresh towel for that one, would you?”
“Mam is someone—”
“Megan.” Aidan shouts my name through the house, and I scowl in his direction as Mam strips off her washing gloves.
