“It’s not that. You’re just…different. You’ve fallen back into your former teaching and research routine and thrown yourself into work like you usually do, but your heart doesn’t seem to be in it.”
“Emberly, please. Don’t worry about me. I’m just exhausted from this proposal and my mother has been more difficult than usual.”
“All right,” Emberly acquiesced, but I knew she didn’t believe me. “You’ve got your monthly dinner with her tonight, right?”
I groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
“One of these days, you’re going to stand up to her and it’s going to be glorious.”
“Sure. Right.”
We visited a couple of minutes longer before saying our goodbyes. I hung up the phone with a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of my nose. My mother had been significantly more difficult since the rescue, upping the pressure of making dean since I didn’t have a ground-breaking discovery.
It was why I was working on this proposal. If it was approved, it would advance my career greatly, which was exactly what I needed. Get this grant, start this project, and my passion would surely come back. The passion I had seemed to have lost since returning. Emberly may have been right…
I made my way back to the table to finish breakfast, when my eyes caught on yesterday’s mail. I’d been so busy researching these ants and working on my grant, I’d completely forgotten to sort through it. I almost laughed out loud at myself for the oversight. It was so unlike me to let my mail pile up. Even for one day.
I flipped through the letters—junk, mostly—until I found one that was different from the others. There was no return address though.
Curious, I broke the seal and unfolded the piece of paper.
I’ll see you at the gala, sunshine.
That was it. No name. No signature. But I didn’t need one. I knew who had sent it.
My boots echoedon the cobblestone street as I strode through town, heading to meet my mother for dinner at our usual place. It was the most upscale restaurant in my town of Honeypoint, and she knew the chef and all the waitstaff, of course.
Only the best for Anya Thornheart.
I turned the corner, keeping my pace casual even though I was running late.
Me, late. A ludicrous notion.
But I had done it on purpose. Just the tiniest way to aggravate my mother. I got a little thrill out of it despite the fact that I knew I’d immediately be berated for my tardiness.
I didn’t care.
With a steadying breath, I adjusted the front of my navy blue cardigan, smoothed my deep brown skirt, and opened the heavy wooden door to the establishment, heading straight for our table. Because, of course, my mother had a specific table where she demanded to sit and expected it to be ready and waiting for her the moment she arrived.
It was a dark restaurant, lit only by candlelight. Each table had an iron chandelier above it with a dozen tapered candles providing a warm ambiance. The booths were a deep navy velvet and there was minimal art on the dark walls. It was classy. Refined. And in that moment, I realized I hated it.
I took a seat across from my mother, who hadn’t looked up from the menu. Her gray hair was pulled back in its usual severe way and small frameless glasses sat on the tip of her nose. She was dressed impeccably, wearing a deep purple tailored suit.
“Good evening,” I said, trying my best not to fidget.
“It’s niceto see you’ve decided to join me,” she murmured, still studying the menu.
I ignored the jab, not rising to the bait. The waiter approached and I ordered a glass of wine, when I realized I actually wanted a beer. Why? It reminded me of Liam.
Oh gods, I’m pathetic.
My mother continued scanning the menu. She didn’t need it. She ordered the same thing every time. But I knew she was doing it to punish me for making her wait.
The waiter approached again and my mother set it down. “The usual, Doctor Thornheart?” he asked.
“Yes, of course.” She didn’t even glance his way.
He turned to me. “What about you, Doctor Thornheart? Would you like your usual?”
