“Landon,” Starla cried, her face in her hands. “This is the worst idea ever. I just don’t think your plan is—“

  “It’s fine. I’ve got this. I’ll take care of you now. We’re in this together. We need to just break the ice and then talk to her about it later, okay?”

  He cupped her face in his hands. I turned my back and wished myself on Mars. Maybe Jupiter? Someplace that didn’t have air so I could focus on the panic of death instead. I’d take that.

  Anything but this.

  Starla let out a long breath. “Okay. I’ll trust you.”

  After a 5,000 year eternity stretched in front of us, they clasped hands and turned to enter the house together. I sucked in a sharp breath when Celeste let out a peal of laughter and confirmed there was no getting out of this now.

  Reluctantly, I followed behind the happy couple.

  Stirred up drama that had nothing to do with me sounded like a miserable time, but the woman behind the mess had me intrigued.

  At least I knew the house was clean.

  Once inside, I peeled my boots off and glanced around.

  Not a knickknack or frame had been nudged out of place. She’d clearly taken pains to keep everything together in the twenty-four hours that had passed.

  A lot of years went behind my hidden superpower of cleaning, organizing, and then making online videos on how to get the stains out of carpet. My more comedic ones, like how to organize a junk drawer by dumping it into the trash can and starting over, had even gained our business a lot of clients. Sure, it all looked fun behind the scenes.

  Mostly, it was.

  But most people didn’t know that I hated cleaning. Hated the grungy work in other people’s houses, breathing their fumes, inhaling their dust. I loved the feeling afterward, though, and that made it worth it.

  There had been times in my life when I couldn’t sort all my problems out. Or any of them, really. Instead of the chaos of a small child and an immature wife, I found refuge in controlling what I could.

  Namely, my house.

  Eventually, I made a temporary career out of it. One day, I’d sell the business. For now, it taught Celeste how to work hard, provided a means for her to save for college, and got me out of the teacher-grind that had burned me out.

  Lines of strain had appeared around Leslie’s warm smile as we shuffled into the kitchen. The air lay thick with the meaty scent of BBQ. A golden pan of cornbread sat on the table, near a bowl of coleslaw and buttered corn.

  Leslie covered her tension with happy small talk and puttered around, grabbing plates and giving instructions on dishing up food. Another kid—probably Blake, whom Celeste spoke about often—descended the stairs. He spoke with Starla, giving her a shy smile, then nodded to me.

  Meanwhile, Leslie and Celeste made little whirls in the kitchen.

  I stood back and took it in. Hopefully, cleaning her house gave Leslie the same sense of control I often craved. I didn’t know Leslie, but I felt for her. Perhaps I’d gone a bit too far with the organizing and fixing, but I’d been on a roll. It had felt good to get back into it and one divorcée to another—it was needed.

  Besides, the invoice would be nice.

  Landon hadn’t let go of Starla as they walked inside and he held onto her now. He had always been a good kid. Intelligent to a fault. A little bit impetuous, but focused when he needed to be. Had he fostered those traits, or had life after high school eaten him whole and spit him back out as a mess who attached to a girl who wasn’t good for him? I knew that story with personal experience.

  Could go either way.

  Celeste still chattered happily with Leslie, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she was why Leslie invited us in. If Celeste had any superpower, words were it. She could talk her way out of almost any situation. I had the scars to prove it. If nothing else, Celeste filled the awkward void that threatened to descend. It seemed to hover above the house, like a lead weight about to plummet.

  Maybe Leslie was more strategic than I’d thought.

  “Come on in,” Leslie called, waving a hand without looking back as I crossed the threshold inside. “Lunch is ready to go.”

  Landon turned away from Blake, arm still firmly around Starla, and put his free hand on his stomach with a dramatic groan.

  “Smells so good, Mom!”

  Indeed, he had that right. If I had to be put in this terrible situation, a little bit of delicious-smelling food would have a redemptive factor.

  When I ventured into the dining room, which was an open space attached to the kitchen area separated only by a bar that jutted out from the wall, Celeste stood in the kitchen. She stirred something on the stovetop with steam billowing out, her voice moving almost as fast.

  Leslie moved in between the fridge, the sink, and the counter, but her movements didn’t have a lot of purpose.

  Mostly misdirection.

  Landon’s words we’ll tell her the news about medical school rang through my head again. I had a dark feeling Leslie was about to get sucker punched twice. No parent deserved that. Particularly not one surviving a divorce, four boys, and the resulting hailstorm of change that ensued.

  Despite myself, I couldn’t help but feel a touch protective toward her.

  Not to mention attracted.

  Her blonde hair was lighter toward the tips, but darker at the roots. It rested on her shoulders in lazy curls that looked too good to be accidental. She had a quick—if not currently twitchy—smile and intelligent gaze.

  Were those blue eyes, or gray? She cut a cozy figure in a simple pair of jeans and a black shirt that flowed around her pockets and halfway down her arms.

  Despite what had to be an inner core of steel after raising Landon and three others, I sensed a softness about her that had been missing in my life for a while. Leslie Miller—no, Hill—was a tangled mess indeed.

  Maybe I didn’t hate all messes.

  Landon stopped at the counter, fingers still tangled in his fiancée’s. “Ready to eat?”

  “Dig in,” Leslie said with a tip of her head. “Let your guests eat first.”

  I waved Leslie off when she glanced my way, so she ushered Celeste into line first. Starla followed, then Blake. Landon reluctantly let go of Starla, but he kept a keen eye on his Mom the whole time.

  I leaned against the wall to wait for the teenage surge to pass through. Leslie appeared busy enough that any expected, initial small talk with Starla could be explained away. But not entirely.

  So when would Leslie really acknowledge Starla?

  The question lay in the air. Celeste, not entirely oblivious to the tension in the room, settled at the table. While Blake picked a spot next to her, she snuck a glance at Landon, then Starla.

  Leslie handed me a plate, a not-so-subtle hint to move already, and I accepted. Only a few minutes passed with Landon and Celeste maintaining an easy chatter before all of us congregated around the table.

  When Leslie finally set her plate down, Landon opened his mouth, then closed it again. If possible, Starla seemed to shrink back further. Rampaging Mother in-Law situation, perhaps? Leslie didn’t remind me of the type.

  Leslie drew in a deep breath, then looked up. Her eyes immediately caught Starla’s. A beat later, she smiled with real warmth.

  “Starla?” she asked. “Is that right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Leslie’s nose wrinkled as she set aside her napkin.. “Ugh, please. Not that. Never that. Just call me Leslie.”

  Leslie walked around the table and collected Starla in a long hug. Landon sent Blake a look of visible relief. Fascinated, I watched Leslie tuck away whatever angst had been in her mind and pull back, hands on Starla’s shoulders. Starla beamed.

  “Thank you. Leslie, then.”

  “Much better.”

  Everyone at the table seemed to share a metaphorical breath as Leslie returned to her seat. Somehow, she’d caught the exact moment before not acknowledging Starla would have become too awkward to salvage.

  Impressive.

  She sat next to me and I caught a hint of brown sugar in the air. Having her at my side would be easier. I wouldn’t have to stop myself from looking at her every other moment.

  “Well, thank you everyone for coming to our little place,” Leslie said with a quick smile. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you very much. Everyone?” She held up two hands, all traces of stress gone. “Let’s eat!”

  Relief made Starla a ball of goo as a steady, rambunctious chatter replaced the uncertain quiet. Celeste and Blake joked with Leslie about surviving their teachers, and Starla begged for more embarrassing stories about Landon during high school. Only too happy to oblige, I provided several.

  By the time conversation wound down, only the inevitable questions remained. As before, they lingered in the air.

  Would Leslie call out their engagement right now?

  Or let it slide?

  “So, Landon tells me you’re engaged?” she said to Starla. “Can I see the ring?”

  I blew out a breath. Right for the kill. Damn, she didn’t hold back. Then again, what mother would?

  Starla blinked, then covered her surprise with a smile. “Of course.” Her hand glittered as she lifted it over the table for Leslie to study. Small diamond in the middle of a silver band. Modest was a word for it.

  Fake could be another one.

  “He proposed a few days ago.” Starla swallowed. Her nostrils flared a bit. Although she seemed to try to keep it steady, her voice wavered a touch. “At an ice skating rink.”

  Leslie blinked, as if the confirmation had startled her. The smooth way she bowled over whatever the engagement story brought up was almost seamless.

  Almost.

  “It’s fast,” Leslie sang with a little smile and a touch of tightness around the edges, “but I can’t wait to hear the story. Will you—”

  “First, Mom,” Landon said, “I have some other news.”

  Starla sucked in a deep breath as he spoke. My entire body tensed, waiting for a punch that wouldn’t land on me. Leslie tilted her head to one side, eyes narrowed. Oh, a wily woman all right. She already knew something was up. Landon sat across from his mother, right in her cross hairs. He’d put a hand on Starla’s arm and fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve.

  “Other news?” Leslie asked.

  “It’s about medical school.”

  “Oh!” Leslie brightened. “Wonderful. Did you get your acceptance? I don’t see how you couldn’t with—”

  Landon let out a shaky breath. “Yes, but . . . I dropped out.”

  I closed my eyes.

  Idiot, I wanted to say. Never give your Mother a double-whammy.

  Over several seconds, Leslie paled. When his words appeared to have sunk in, she opened her mouth, then closed it again. I grimaced. Celeste froze. Starla held her breath, face twisted in an expression that indicated she expected Leslie to self-combust. Blake pretended none of it was happening and plowed into a piece of cornbread.

  “What do you mean?” Leslie asked carefully.

  Landon’s throat bobbed. He spoke slowly, as if he knew he’d been given an extension on his life for one more minute, and he’d better make the best of it.

  “It just . . . it wasn’t right. I know that I had big plans and I’ve wanted to be a surgeon forever,” he said quickly, “but the thought of that much school? I just couldn’t do it, Mom. I’m burned out. The expectations, training, and time away? I want more of a life than that.”

  Leslie blinked, only slightly mollified. At this point, I imagined Landon had just about crammed all the shock into his mother he could manage, and I hoped he had nothing left to drop.

  “I’m looking at something else.” Landon leaned back in the chair. “I’m not 100% sure what it is yet, but . . . I have a feeling I’ll stumble on it. Maybe a park ranger or an auto mechanic or something simple.”

  Leslie’s gaze dropped to the table top. Her eyes widened. “Okay,” she murmured.

  Her modulated tone struck more fear in my heart on Landon’s behalf than the flared nostrils and tensed neck. Based on the puzzlement in her voice, she worked this out with each word she spoke.

  “Okay.” She nodded once, lips pressed again. “I . . . okay. I guess there’s a lot to talk about, isn’t there?”

  “This has nothing to do with me!” Starla blurted out, then slapped a hand over her mouth. Landon’s mouth tightened at the lips. His grip on her wrist seemed a little firmer. Blake looked up at this, crumbs from the cornbread on his lips. Celeste’s mouth hung half open.

  As if she couldn’t hold it in, Starla cried, “I’m sorry, I just . . . I didn’t want you to think that our engagement had anything to do with his decision to leave medical school. I’m not pregnant, he wanted to stop medical school before I met him, and I love him so much.”

  An eternity followed.

  This lunch would hit the record books.

  To my shock, Leslie softened. She reached out and put a hand on Starla’s arm. With a gaze full of long-suffering she said, “I understand, Starla, and I don’t blame you. Landon is his own man and always has been.”

  Landon’s tight jaw loosened ever-so-slightly, but he watched his mom like he anticipated an attack. He should. If she didn’t, I might. Leslie glanced at him, and a flash of murderous rage caught me by surprise. It disappeared, but Landon hadn’t missed it. I bit back a laugh when he paled.

  Oh, he was in for it.

  A saccharine sweetness coated her voice when she spoke next. One that was subtle enough to pass by Starla’s terror unrecognized, but obvious for the rest of us.

  “Let’s talk about this more in-depth after lunch,” Leslie said. She gazed around, looking at empty plates and dishes. “Landon, would you and Starla mind being on dish duty? Celeste and Blake, you can package up all the food that’s leftover, please. We’ll send it back to Jackson City with you tonight if anyone wants some.”

  Then Leslie’s gaze slammed right into mine, sending a shockwave ripple all the way through my body.

  “Tanner? May I please speak with you outside?”

  5

  Leslie

  My mind looped around itself, zooming like a race car.

  I can’t do this.

  I can’t do this.

  I can’t do this.

  The only thing that kept me from absolutely exploding was knowing that I had to step outside and talk to Tanner. Tanner, the impossibly handsome, had-to-be-here-at-the-exact-wrong-moment father of Celeste. Tanner, who stood back like an awkward shadow and tried to look everywhere but at me.

  Why had I invited them in?

  Why had I said yes to this lunch without talking to Landon in private first?

  Why was my son such an idiot?

  Tanner disappeared out the front door as soon he’d nodded to my request, as if he couldn’t get out fast enough.

  Not that I could blame him.

  I didn’t even know what I was going to say, I just knew I needed air. That the room around me thickened and wavered. If I had to maintain this facade for one more second, I would explode.

  The kids had zipped right to their assigned chores, and a friendly banter filled the air. Banishing the panicked thoughts, I yanked on a jacket and stepped outside.

  Tanner stood on the porch, hands in his pockets. He stared out as I shut the door behind me and joined him. Neither of us looked at each other. I gazed on the empty neighborhood, the mountains in the distance, and the dirty rims of his truck. How often did he wash it?

  His calm voice broke my stupor. “That was a big bomb or two he just dropped.”

  I blinked out of the piling thoughts. Somehow, that was the exact right thing for him to say.

  “Agreed,” I said.

  He turned to study my profile, but I made no move to meet his gaze. I didn’t have the mental ability to look at him right now. He was far too attractive. Too . . . with it. One compassionate word and I’d . . . I didn’t know.

  The crisp air made it easier to breathe. I closed my eyes and focused on the silence. A calming sensation followed, rippling through my muscles like a cup of warm tea. I’d bought myself at least a few minutes before I had to go back in, somehow separate Landon from Starla, and drag the truth out of him.

  Tanner didn’t ask if I needed anything, for which I was grateful. I didn’t know what I’d say. Asking him to step out with me came from sheer desperation to get away and not have anyone follow. Meanwhile, my sluggish brain began to catch up to what had just happened inside.

  Engaged after four weeks.

  Almost-hysterical soon-to-be bride.

  Dropped out of medical school and his years-long career pursuit.

  No idea what he’d do next.

  In the end, I came to the same conclusion that I had yesterday morning when Landon texted me the news—this had to be a joke. Max could have pulled this kind of stunt and I wouldn’t have doubted its veracity. Landon, however, had never been the troublemaker.

  Medical school. The thought gave me a pang. If my son didn’t want to do that, I wouldn’t force it on him. For years, however, he’d had a single-path goal. Get to medical school, save lives in surgery. His focus had been absolute. I’d done everything I could feasibly do to support the dream. Now that he let it dissolve away, I had to restructure the life I’d pictured for him.

  That was harder than I’d thought.

  All the years of parenting Landon stacked up behind me, helping me know exactly what I needed to do. I just didn’t want to do it.

  Landon would come to me with more details . . . eventually. At least, he always had in the past. We’d get rid of the basics, think it over, and come back together later. Didn’t matter that I wanted to hash it out now.

  I needed to wait, even just a few hours.

  The courage I needed to step back into the house and say nothing lay somewhere in all my decades of time as a mom.

  Tonight, before he left, I’d pull him aside. We could chat more then, with the air cleared and everyone relaxed. To prepare myself for returning, I gathered bravery like a desperate woman. I pictured it like glitter and piled it into my arms, then shifted to go inside again. When someone shifted next to me, I froze.

 

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