Page 1 of Two of a Kind
Chapter One
“Charles and I are movingto Denver.”
Kayla stopped mid-chew and stared at her mother, careful to keep her expression neutral. Charles was her mother’s latest husband, the third to hold the position. Kayla’s father, husband number one, died in a car accident the day after her thirteenth birthday. Husband number two, Brian O’Connell, suffered a massive heart attack almost ten years earlier. Unkind whispers painted Patricia Coxton-Jennings-O’Connell-Davidson as something of a black widow; Kayla couldn’t help wondering what poor Charles had in store for him.
She finished chewing the tender piece of chicken and sipped her water before responding. “When?”
“As soon as possible. Charles wants to be closer to his daughter. She’s having her third child in a few months. Three children, all under the age of five. Can you imagine?”
Yes, Kayla could imagine it all too clearly. She shuddered. Children were not her thing.
“What I can’t see, Mom, is you playing dear old grandmamma to three snot-nosed rugrats.”
Patricia scowled and lifted her glass of wine. “Bite your tongue.”
Kayla smirked, knowing she had touched a nerve. Her mother lacked the innate maternal instincts most women had. Patricia had, in fact, stated on more than one occasion that Kayla wouldn’t even exist if she hadn’t over-imbibed at her twenty-third birthday celebration and neglected to use birth control. She also never failed to thank Kayla every year for not giving her grandchildren and the age-related stigma that came with it.
“Anyway,” Patricia sniffed, “Charles will be handling all ofthat.”
“He’s okay with that?” Kayla asked carefully. Charles seemed like a genuinely nice man. A widower, he had been alone for years before he met her mother and she decided to change his relationship status. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Charles was also handsome in a mature, Fortune 500 kind of way and extremely well-off. Patricia wouldn’t have given him the time of day if he had been anything less.
“He is,” Patricia confirmed. “We’ve discussed it. I’m his wife, not the mother of his children.”
“And his daughter? How does she feel about it?”
A dismissive wave of a manicured hand. “She’ll just have to deal with it.”
“Like she did with your wedding?”
It was no secret that Charles’ daughter, Lydia, had been wholly opposed to the marriage. She believed that Patricia had more fondness for her father’s financial security than the man himself. She wasn’t entirely wrong. Charles was a good man, but Patricia would not have pursued him if he hadn’t had the funds to back up all that goodness. Patricia’s brief stints in the food service industry during and immediately after high school had convinced her that it was better to marry money than to earn it.
“Lydia is a grown woman, not a little girl. She’s going to have to accept that her father is a healthy, virile man with needs.”
With that discomfiting thought, Kayla speared another bite of chicken with a piece of broccoli and some penne.
“Are you sure you should be eating that?” Patricia commented with disapproval. “Carbs are not your friend after thirty, Kayla.”
Kayla flicked a glance at the broiled salmon and artfully arranged green beans on Patricia’s plate. She had to admit, her mother looked closer to Kayla’s age than she did to her own fifty-nine years. The woman was extremely disciplined when it came to maintaining her appearance. She ate right, exercised, and never missed her weekly spa treatments.
“Yes,” Kayla answered, bringing the fork to her mouth. “I’ve made my peace with it.”
“Don’t be flip. I’m not trying to tell you how to live your life”—yes, she was—“but the dew is off your lily. No man is going to want a woman who doesn’t take care of herself. Do you think Charles and I would be together now if I’d let myself go?”
Kayla didn’t consider eating a few bites of whole-grain pasta was “letting herself go” precisely. And truthfully, yes, she believed her mother and Charles would still be together if she added a few extra pounds and relaxed her sphincter a little, because Charles really was a nice guy. Oh, it might have been Patricia’s appearance that drew his eye in the first place, but from what Kayla could tell, he wasn’t the type to write someone off because they weren’t model-perfect.
In that moment, Kayla actually felt a stab of sympathy for Charles. Her stepfather, Brian, had been the same way. After the honeymoon, Brian had found out the hard way that Patricia put a lot more time and effort into the outer packaging than what was inside the box. As for her father, well, perhaps she was remembering the past through the eyes of the daddy’s little girl she had once been, but he had been a good man, too.
Kayla said none of that. Her opinion was just that—her opinion. As Patricia had pointed out, she and Charles were adults and capable of making their own decisions without Kayla’s, or anyone else’s, interference. Instead, Kayla asked, “What are you going to do with the house?”
“Sell it, of course,” Patricia said immediately, then narrowed her eyes. “You don’t want it, do you?”
Kayla shook her head. No, she didn’t want Brian’s house. The ten years she had spent there had been unpleasant and turbulent, and she had moved on since then.
“Good. The realtor can decide what to do with the contents. Charles and I are making a fresh start.”
Kayla now understood why Patricia was being relatively docile about the move to Denver. Charles had probably promised her a stately manor and an unlimited budget to decorate however she wanted. Poor Charles didn’t know what he was getting himself into. Patricia had expensive taste.
“What about the stuff in the attic?” Kayla asked, thinking about the multitude of boxes and chests she had seen up there. None of it was stuff they had brought with them, which meant most of it was probably from Brian’s first marriage.
