Page 2 of Landry
She had not bothered to argue that she just wanted a man who was all right with her success and was not intimidated by the fact that she was a woman in charge, an independent Black woman who had made it to the top, one who did not need to be coddled or stroked.
She was about to get back to her desk when her phone rang.
"I'm outside your building and was told, no, ordered, to make sure you're not late."
"I was just-"
"Getting some work in. I know. Honey, mother hates to be kept waiting. Get your ass down here before I have to come and get you. I just finished a sixteen-hour shift at the hospital and had my hands in a man's gut for four hours; I'm not in the mood to play nice."
"We could always cancel." Sighing inwardly, she stuffed her things in her oversized purse and scribbled a note for her assistant to work on first thing Monday morning.
"I value my life too much to even entertain that thought."
"Here's something. Why don't you find a nice doctor at that hospital of yours and get married? That will give our mother something to think about for a while."
"I'm hanging up now. You've got five minutes."
With the dial tone in her ear, she finished gathering her things and shutting off her desktop before heading out.
***
Justine Lowell was a middle-aged woman who was comfortable in her own skin. Her thick blonde hair was liberally streaked with gray, and there were lines running from her laughing jade-green eyes and crinkling around her lips. She was usually smiling and had a way about her that had people gravitating towards her. Landry loved her and had often wished she were his mother.
"You're wet!" She immediately started fussing as soon as he walked through the doorway and had a towel handy. "You're going to catch your death. What were you thinking?" Without waiting for him to finish drying off, she took his arm and led him into the comfortable roomy kitchen that smelled enticingly of baked goods. "Fortunately for you, I made some soup. Sit," she ordered, pointing to the table tucked beneath the large bay window overlooking one of the barns and her prized roses.
"I'm fine, Aunt Justine. You worry too much." Leaning down from his lofty six-foot-three height, he dropped a kiss on her soft cheek, inhaling the scent of flour and peppermint.
"I don't want you getting sick. Tea first-"
"Coffee." He flashed her a charming smile that had her melting. "Where's Uncle Colin?"
"Out in the barnyard, inspecting the new foal." She poured the coffee into a big mug and placed it in front of him. "Your mother called."
Picking up the cup, he wrapped his fingers around it and took a sip. "I expected her to." His green eyes, so much like hers, watched her over the rim. "What did she have to say?"
"She wants to know when you're going home."
"And you told her what?"
Justine bustled to the stove to stir the savory soup, her lips pursed. "I said when you're good and ready."
"I can just imagine how she reacted." The amusement could be heard in his deep voice.
"She accused me of influencing you to stay."
"Of course she did." He shook his head. "I cannot believe you're twins. You're so different."
Justine came back to the table with a cup of tea and sat across from him. She had often questioned the good Lord about his decision to give her sister two children that she did not appreciate and left her empty. But Landry was her favorite. He had always been, since she went to that fancy hospital and saw him in the cot. He had inherited their blond hair and jade-green eyes and her sister's stunning good looks. Jessica had always wanted more than she had, and she had found it with the man she had met while modeling cosmetics for a well-known brand.
Justine never envied her the lifestyle she had adapted to so easily, but she often resented the fact that her twin sister had Landry.
"We've always been different." Justine sipped her tea and let out a sigh. "She thinks I'm taking you away from her."
"Which is utter nonsense. Mother tends to be a little paranoid."
Reaching out a hand, she touched his clenched fist on the table. "Can you talk about it?" she asked quietly, and even though she did not elaborate, he knew what she was referring to.
"Not particularly," he said with a shrug. "I spent the last few hours going over it in my mind. I have to face her, Aunt Justine." He felt the coldness, the slice of fear touching his heart. The last fifteen years had been such a traumatic event that he often wondered why his life was so complicated.
