by Sabrina York
Lizzie turned to see Emma, arms filled with weeds and wildflowers, clomp mud all over the wood floor as she entered the room through the back door. She headed straight to Dorthea and dumped the, ahem, bouquet in her lap, then said, “I smell food.”
“Are you hungry, honey?” Lizzie asked. “We’re having grilled cheese.”
In response, Emma rubbed her tummy and licked her lips.
“I’ll toss another in the pan,” Sam said.
Dorthea fixed her attention on Emma. “Well, hello, darling.”
“Hello!” Emma said.
“I love your yellow dress, sweetie.” Dorthea laughed. “You have the prettiest dresses. Would you like some tea?”
“I’d prefer a soda,” Emma said to Maria, but Lizzie caught her eye and shook her head.
“Milk or water.”
Emma groaned and flopped down on the table as though she was dying. When that didn’t work, she sat up, folded her hands and said, “Milk, please,” for which she earned a motherly nod.
They’d just finished lunch when Crystal and Jack arrived. He was a few years older than Emma, and a boy, which was a concern for Lizzie at first—boys could be rough and tumble—but as she, Danny and Crystal sat on the porch and chatted while the kids played, she could tell Jack was a sweet, shy kid. Beyond that, Crystal had made it a point to pull out a pack of wipes and sanitize both their hands before Jack and Emma met.
When she commented on how well the two were getting along, and Crystal said, “Well, I told him to be careful, on account of the fact that Emma’s been sick,” Lizzie knew immediately that she and Crystal were going to become fast friends. It would be nice to have someone in town to talk to, especially another mom.
“She’s so much better now,” Danny said.
Lizzie smiled at Crystal. “Still, I appreciate your thoughtfulness.” To which Crystal flushed.
Sam, Mark and DJ came out to chat, too, but as soon as Luke saw who was on the porch, he made a one-eighty back into the house. Lizzie couldn’t help noticing the flush that rose on his cheeks when the pretty waitress said, “Hi, Luke.” She also noticed that Crystal’s expression dropped when he didn’t respond.
Maria brought out some lemonade for everyone, then took a glass to Dorthea, who had opted to stay inside the air-conditioned house. “This is so pleasant,” Lizzie said, leaning against Danny as she sipped her drink.
“It is nice,” he murmured.
“Just watching Emma play with another child... Oh. Oh. Rats. I forgot the sunscreen.” Lizzie riffled through her purse and pulled out the tube. “Emma, come here, honey.”
Danny chuckled. “She hasn’t been out that long.”
“Had I thought my worrying days are over?” she said on a laugh. Now there were just new things to worry about.
Emma endured the subsequent slathering—even though she clearly wanted to go join Jack on the swing set Luke had built. The moment Lizzie released her, she was off again.
Sam laughed. “Look at her go.”
“Yes,” Lizzie said. “Look at her go.” It was a glorious sight.
Once the kids were worn out, they curled up in the family room to watch a video while the adults continued to chat in the parlor. Crystal had a great sense of humor and she was a wealth of knowledge on what entertained the kids in Butterscotch Ridge and hereabouts.
They invited Crystal and her son to stay for supper, but they had to decline because she had to work. It was hard for Lizzie to see her go.
“I like her,” Danny said when they headed inside after seeing them off.
“Me, too,” Lizzie said with a smile.
“Me three,” Emma crowed.
“What did you think of Jack?” she asked as they made their way into the parlor where Maria had put out afternoon tea for Dorthea...and Emma.
“Nice. You know he goes to horse camp?”
“Does he?”
Her lip—that lip—came out. “I want to go to horse camp.”
“What is horse camp, exactly?” Lizzie asked.
Danny shrugged. “No idea.”
Sam chuckled. “It’s where little kids learn how to ride horses.”
“Safely,” Luke added with a knowing look at Lizzie.
Emma nodded as she helped herself to one of the cookies in the arrangement. “Yes. That. That’s what I want.”
Danny and Lizzie exchanged a horrified glance, for which Lizzie was grateful. Clearly, he felt it was too soon to put Emma on a horse, as well. Thank heaven. Oh, if they stayed here, she would need to learn to ride. Of course she would. Just not yet.
“We just need to take it slow, pumpkin,” Danny said. “Maybe when you’re a little older?”
“How much older?”
“Ah...” His glance at Lizzie was a little panicked. Clearly, he didn’t have a clue. Fortunately for him, just then, Maria poked her head into the room.
“Excuse me, Danny?”
He turned to face her. “Yes, Maria?”
“There’s someone here to see you.”
The relief on his face was comical so Lizzie murmured, “Saved by the bell,” and they both chuckled. Emma’s demand would have to wait.
“It’s a woman,” Maria added.
A woman? Lizzie met Danny’s gaze in confusion.
Maria cleared her throat. “She says she’s your mother.”
In that second, the world stopped turning. Lizzie’s lungs locked. Her pulse thudded hard. A slew of bitter memories sluiced through her.
Oh. Oh, no.
Her gaze snapped to Danny’s face and she shuddered. His muscles were tight, his expression grim. He swallowed heavily, several times.
Everyone else froze, too, as though they felt the sudden tension crackling in the room. Silence hummed.
Danny’s mother was here?
Lizzie’s first instinct was to grab Emma, get in her car and drive back to Seattle as fast as possible.
This was a woman she’d vowed would never step foot into Emma’s life. Not after everything she’d done to her son. Based on Danny’s expression, and the tic in his cheek as he looked at Emma, he felt the same. Her heart pounded in sympathy. They both knew they needed to protect Emma from the ugly confrontation that was about to happen.
He nodded to her and she grabbed Emma’s hand. “Come on, honey. Let’s go to our room. I’ll read you that book you love, the one about the runaway bunny.”
Her daughter resisted. “What? Why? I want to meet Daddy’s mom.” With sudden strength, she yanked her little hand from Lizzie’s and, before any of them could react, Emma ran from the room and into the foyer.
Lizzie leaped from the sofa to rush after her, but even then, it felt as though she was moving in slow motion. With Danny at her heels, they sprinted to the hall, coming to a stop as they took in a most horrific scene.
There she stood, all dressed in black, like a movie villainess, wearing more makeup than half the women in Butterscotch Ridge, and indifferently flicking ashes from her lit cigarette onto the hardwood floor. She stared down at the little girl who had run to greet her but who was now warily taking stock.
“Who are you?” Danny’s mother drawled at Emma. Then she flicked her ash again.
“I’m Emma.” She cocked her head. “You don’t look like a grandma.” She wrinkled her nose. “You don’t smell like one, either.”
She threw back her head then, the Gorgon of old with her basilisk stare, and sneered. “I should hope not.”
“My other grandma is cozy.”
“Emma. Sweetie.” Lizzie eased closer, carefully, cautiously, like a mother trying to distract a tiger from her baby. But Danny got to her first, and scooped up Emma in a rush. He understood far too well that this woman was a danger. To all of them.
“Ah.” Her blood-red lips curled. She simpered as she surveyed her
son holding his child protectively in his arms. “Perhaps I am a grandmother after all.”
* * *
Danny stared at his mother in shock and horror.
She was here. She’d found him.
Had he really thought he was done with her forever? Was he still so naive?
DJ, Mark, Luke and Sam stumbled to a halt in the foyer and gaped at her, as well. Must have been quite the tableau, with all eyes on her. As she demanded.
Oh, she was still as beautiful as ever, but in a hardened kind of way. There might have been some Botox since Danny had last seen her. Regardless, she seemed as intractable as ever.
DJ stepped forward, waving his siblings back behind him. Which was wise. Snakes could strike without any warning. “Excuse me. Who are you?” he asked.
Her gaze found him. “Why, I’m Daniel’s mother,” she said, holding out her hand. As though she wanted him to kiss it or something. “I’m Patrice.” She always said her name that way, as though it was something people should recognize.
“You’re a redhead,” Danny said. First thought that bubbled up through the morass of emotions.
His mother fingered her coif with her sharp, glossy nails. “Do you like it?” She took another puff. “I think it suits me. It did get blown to hell, though. Teach me to drive a convertible in the desert.”
Danny glanced out the window at the flashy sports car in the drive and sighed. “Where’d you get the car, Mother?”
Her expression soured. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
“Fine.” His tone was stoic. It had to be. If he let any emotion show, he might not be able to rein it back in again. “Why are you here?”
“Don’t you know?” She fluttered her long lashes. “I came to pay my respects.” She turned to the rest of the family and Maria, who were watching this circus with dumbstruck expressions. “I am so sorry for your loss.” She uttered these words as though she’d rehearsed all the way here.
A muscle jerked in Danny’s cheek, but he tried to keep his expression impassive. He nodded at his mother. “All right then. You’ve done that. Now you can leave.”
“Leave?” She stepped closer. Danny passed Emma to Lizzie and moved in front of them. “Why on earth would I leave? I just arrived. I want to spend some time with my beloved son.” Her gaze flicked to Emma, then back to Danny, and her lips quirked. “And my granddaughter. Aren’t you glad to see me?”
Apparently, his expression made his opinion clear.
Patrice sighed and ground out her cigarette with the toe of her Louboutin. “Christ. I just drove a thousand miles to see you. Aren’t you even going to offer me something to drink?”
“Of course,” DJ said, and Danny’s head whipped around so he could gape at his brother in disbelief. “What would you like?”
Patrice smiled at him, a little too seductively for Danny’s comfort. “Well, aren’t you the country gentleman? I’ll take a whiskey. Neat.” Then his mother lifted a long, dancer’s leg and massaged her calf, all while holding DJ’s gaze. “It was a very long drive. Do you mind if I sit?”
For some reason, DJ smiled. “Sure. Why don’t we all head to my office and chat there? It’s more...intimate.”
Danny looked at Lizzie, who appeared as dumbfounded as he felt. Could his brother not see what they were dealing with? Or was his mother so slick that anyone who didn’t know her could be fooled? He hated that thought. DJ was a good and decent person. All of them were. They deserved better than to be conned by Patrice Diem.
But then DJ turned to Emma, offered her a broad grin and said, “Hey, sweetie. Why don’t you help Maria make some cookies for later?” With that, Danny’s fears began to melt away. He realized his brother’s intent was to cut Emma from the herd, to protect her from danger. He had the sudden urge to hug him.
Emma pouted. “But I want to watch.”
Lizzie kissed the curls sprouting on her daughter’s head. “Oh, your daddy just needs to talk to his mom about boring grown-up stuff because they haven’t seen each other in a while. We’ll tell you all about it later. Okay? So go ahead with Maria, like DJ said, okay?”
“I am making peanut-butter-sandwich cookies,” Maria said with a wink.
Emma wriggled out of Lizzie’s arms. “With blackberry jam?”
Maria made a shocked face. “Is there any other kind?” She held out her hand to Emma and led the little girl into the kitchen, whispering about all the cookies they would get to eat by themselves while the others were distracted.
Danny felt Lizzie lean into him with relief. Thank God, DJ had been able to distract their daughter from this mess. Because with his mother, it was just going to get messier. It always did.
DJ led the way to his office, but he subtly blocked his siblings from entering after Danny and his mother. He tried to exclude Lizzie, too, but she gave him the look and pushed past him into the office. Lizzie took a seat behind the giant desk with her arms crossed, indicating she was here for one reason only, and that was to be present for him. Her expression said clearly, I’m here for you.
It gave him strength, having her behind him. Having all of them. He knew this was his battle to fight, but it was damn nice that he wasn’t alone in it.
His mother took a moment to assess the office, the stately river rock fireplace, weathered beams, bright open windows that let the sunlight in, the mahogany desk, still covered with paperwork Lizzie had been working on this morning. As Danny and DJ rearranged the chairs by the fireplace, she paused by the credenza to heft the bronze statue of Zeus, as though estimating its value. Danny had the urge to rip it from her fingers before she could stuff it into her purse.
“Please, sit.” How DJ managed to maintain his hospitable tone was a mystery.
“And my drink?” Patrice set her hand on her hip, as though to say, not moving ’til I get it.
In response, DJ opened the credenza, pulled out a whiskey bottle and a crystal glass and poured Patrice a few fingers. She knocked them back like water and held out the glass for more. “Shall we sit?” he said again, after he refilled her glass. Danny noticed he kept hold of the bottle, so maybe he wasn’t as gullible as he seemed.
“So,” DJ said, almost like a mediator, once the three of them were settled in a semicircle. “Tell us why you’re here.”
Patrice smiled at him. “That should be obvious. I came to see my boy.” She touched Danny’s hand.
He jerked out of reach.
She reacted to this rebuff with a softening of her expression, her stance, her tear ducts. A melodramatic sniffle. He knew better.
“Why are you really here?” he asked.
His mother fished through her bag for a tissue and then delicately sobbed into it. “I’ve come all this way to see you. I’ve missed you.” She looked up at him, her beautiful eyes wide and damp. “You’re my only son. My baby. I love you.”
Danny stared at her, the well of his patience for her cold and empty. He knew her. He knew her ploys. She’d always counted on her emotional hold on Danny to manipulate him. And he’d always fallen for it, too desperate for whatever short-lived affection she might deign to show him. Not this time.
Now, he knew what real love was. He wouldn’t be fooled by the fake stuff ever again.
“Are you still running from the law?” he asked blandly.
Her expression tightened. “Seriously?” The soft, sweet, vulnerable tone melted into a bitter snarl. “You’re going to bring that up?”
Danny shook his head. “Mother, you skipped bail.”
She shrugged. “I needed to get out of town.”
“You know I posted your bail, right?”
“And I never got a chance to say thank you.”
“You knew I didn’t have that kind of money. You knew I had to borrow it.”
Her lips pursed. “I said thank you.”
Techni
cally, she hadn’t.
“I had to borrow that money from Mikey Gerardo.”
Her eyes widened. “You borrowed money from Mikey Gerardo?”
“Yes, Mother. I did.”
She barked a harsh laugh. “Well, that was stupid.”
Danny was silent for a moment as fury and frustration raked him. “Really?” he finally said. “Was it a stupid thing? My mother was in jail. How else could I come up with the bail money?”
“But a loan shark?” The smirk on Patrice’s painted face was infuriating. “Really, Danny?”
“Right. I should have just gone to the bank and asked for five grand to bail my mother out. With no assets. How do you think that would have gone?”
“You could have just left me there. In jail.”
“Maybe I should have.”
Patrice dug through her bag for a cigarette and lit up. “Well, that’s all behind us now, isn’t it? Now that you’ve been named in your grandfather’s will?” She took hold of Danny’s arm. He tried to disengage, but couldn’t. Patrice tightened her hold, leaned in and hissed in what could have been considered a doting tone, if one didn’t know her, “My son. The heir.”
* * *
Lizzie’s gut lurched. Rage nearly blinded her. It took everything in her to stay silent, to let Danny work through this on his own. She had the suspicion he needed this confrontation, this confirmation of the fact that he was nothing like his mother.
“So this is about money?” he asked. He sounded tired.
Patrice arched an eyebrow. “I would think you could spare some now.”
“Mother, I don’t have any money. I work here at the ranch for wages—just like everybody else.” His tone was tight.
She tossed back her head. “I find that hard to believe.”
DJ cleared his throat. “That is, in fact, how we operate, ma’am,” he said in a deeper voice than usual. “Our profit goes right back into the herd. Why, veterinary costs alone—”
“So sell a cow. Or a tractor. Or whatever. I don’t care, as long as I get my money.”