Page 22 of Jude

The undeniable force of Jude’s mother wiped out every defensive argument I spent the drive rehearsing.

She was warm and welcoming, without a trace of the awkward energy you’d expect from someone whose house you were just invited to at the last minute.

I let out a breath of relief as she pulled me into a hug, her palms moving in steady, soothing circles between my shoulder blades.

‘I’m Margaret, but everyone calls me Maggie,’ she said, releasing the embrace just enough to look me in the eye. ‘Let’s get you out of this heat before you melt into the gravel.’

I glanced back at Jude to gauge his reaction, but Maggie gripped my wrist.

The older woman’s palm was warm and solid as she steered me past her son.

‘Get her bags, honey,’ Maggie trilled as we entered her home.

It was tastefully finished in creams, whites, and cottage decor.

I took note of the gorgeous printed chairs, pillows, and upholstery in whites, blues, and ocean-themed designs.

Moving at a brisk pace, we passed a spacious living area swarming with people and reached an expansive kitchen.

The air inside was redolent with the rich, savory scent of seasoned food, fresh lime juice, and sweet vanilla frosting.

Copper pots hung from exposed cedar beams, a long butcher-block island sat covered in platters of diced onions and warm tortillas, and family photos lined the refrigerator door.

‘Jude, bring her things down the blue bedroom,’ Maggie ordered over her shoulder.

She poured a glass of ice-cold hibiscus water and pushed it into my hands. ‘Drink that up, Sofia. Then we can get you settled.’

I sipped the drink as Jude prowled past with my measly bag and his things.

Thirsty, I drank all of the refreshment, then followed Maggie upstairs and down a quiet, sunlit hallway into a guest suite.

I tamped back a gasp; it was a palace compared to the drafty apartment I shared with six others in Milan.

A thick, cream-colored wool rug sank beneath my feet.

My eyes fell on a four-poster bed piled high with crisp, white duvets that looked like summer clouds.

Along one wall were the open double windows, letting in a warm breeze fragrant with the scent of blooming jasmine bushes from the courtyard below.

The room had an en-suite bathroom too, with ivory and marble tiles.

The pure luxury of the space made me feel like an intruder slipping into someone else’s dream.

‘You’ve a lovely home,’ I told Maggie. ‘The prints especially are beautiful.’

‘They’re batiks, and I make them,’ she announced with a pleased smile.

‘Thank you so much for having me,’ I added, remembering my manners.

She nodded with a generous smile.

‘Don’t mention it. Take all the time you need to freshen up, then come downstairs and meet everyone.

Jude appeared, placing my bag on the bed in silence before giving me a terse nod and easing out with his mother.

I waited until the door clicked shut, then sank to the floor and pulled out my cracked phone.

With a trembling hand, I texted my girl group on WhatsApp.