Let him watch.
Where was the condolence? I’d found a friend dead and he’d shown no sympathy. All he wanted to do was try and pin the murder on George. Close the case, narrow his workload.
And yet, the dread turned to nausea. Maybe McNearny was right. George had to be connected somehow.
When I arrived home, Laurie was screaming in Mom’s arms.
“She won’t take the formula.”
I wrinkled my nose at the yellowish bottle Mom was putting in Laurie’s face. “I don’t blame her.”
“You used to love the stuff.”
Obviously, my daughter had a more discriminating palate.
I collapsed onto the couch and nursed Laurie. I don’t know who was more relieved, me as the burning sensation dissipated from my breasts, Laurie at being fed, or Mom at the peace and quiet.
We sat in silence. I finished nursing Laurie, then rubbed her back, expecting a little burp. Instead, she threw up all over my silk blouse.
I broke down crying, my bravado from facing Inspector McNearny evaporated.
Mom took Laurie from me and placed her in the bassinet, then put her arms around me. “Oh, honey, don’t cry,” she said, stroking my hair. “It’s just the hormones.”
I recounted my afternoon for Mom. She listened, her mouth agape.
She rubbed my back. “That’s horrible. Just awful, honey. What a shock!” I let her cluck over me, taking comfort in her support.
My head was throbbing, my legs ached, and I had baby spit-up all over my blouse. Not to mention finding Michelle dead and being interrogated by the police.
Not a good day.
I rose from the couch. I needed to change and take some pain medication, at the very least. “Will you come over tomorrow?” I asked Mom.
She hesitated. “There’s something I haven’t told you as well.”
I sat back down on the couch and held my head. Had Mom’s car been broken into, too? Or worse, had someone tried to break into the house while I was gone?
“I’m seeing someone,” Mom said.
Mom dating?
My parents had been divorced for nearly fifteen years. Mother had said over and over again that she was through with men, that she lived only to have grandchildren.
“What? Who?” I stuttered.
“A very nice man. His name is Hank.”
My body surged with a strange combination of happiness and . . . what? Fear? Jealousy? Was I going to have to share my babysitting mother? How selfish of me. I pushed the thought from my mind and hugged her. “And why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
Mom shrugged sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure there was anything to tell.”
I smiled. “How did you meet?”
“Well,” Mom said hesitantly, “I put myself on Match-dot-Com.”
Mom using the Internet?
“What?” I sputtered.
“Match-dot-Com, darling. It’s a dating service. Online.”
“I know what it is. I just . . . I didn’t know . . . that you were . . . That’s great, Mom. Really great.”
“My profile was up for about a week.” Mom made herself comfortable on the couch. “I saw his profile. I already knew he worked at the pharmacy down the street, but that’s all I knew about him. I didn’t know if he was married or anything. When I saw him online, I thought, ‘Well, I’ll be. He’s single!’ So I winked at him. They have a little thing on the computer where you can ‘wink’ at someone. It sends them e-mail from you.”
I sat there, stunned. Jim and I had bought Mom a laptop for Christmas last year. Jim had shown her how to get online. I thought she used it only to read the newspaper.
“So, I winked at Hank,” Mom continued, “and he winked at me. We e-mailed for a while. Then we thought, ‘Well, this is plain silly, we’re both in the same neighborhood. ’ So he invited me out for a cocktail.”
I stared at her. “Mom, you don’t drink.”
“Well, once in a while . . . there’s nothing wrong with that,” she said defensively.
I laughed, realizing Mom was at it again, telling me a crazy story to take my mind off my problems. “I’m not judging you, Mom. Tell me more.”
“I would but you look terrible, Kate. Exhausted.”
“Not to mention I have spit-up on my blouse. Let me go change. I’ll be right back.”
Mom insisted on leaving so I could get some rest, but promised to fill me in on more Hank details later.
Laurie and I were sprawled on the floor, looking at a farm animals picture book. Mostly, I was looking at the book; Laurie was drooling.
“The cow says moo, moo,” I ad-libbed.
I heard the key in the front door and scrambled to my feet. I pulled the door open and grabbed Jim around the neck, squeezed him, and inhaled his scent. “Oh, honey, I’m so glad you’re home safe.”