like a sad story.”
“It is. The guys who died were all my age or younger. Not a fun weekend. I’m sorry I didn’t call you yesterday. I was at the accident scene until ridiculous-thirty on Friday night, and then back here all day Saturday, and I stayed home with Darcy and tried to relax yesterday.”
“I see.” Her tone brightened. “Speaking of relaxing, I went to the pool for the first time in years yesterday, and guess who I bumped into?”
“A handsome doctor who swept you off your flip flops?”
“Not quite.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “But I did have a nice chat with Rhonda Miller.”
“Aw, really?” It was entirely possible that I missed Kyle’s family more than I actually missed him. His parents were among the sweetest people I’d ever met. “How is she?”
“She’s doing really well. And so is Kyle. He’s somewhere up there, actually. She said he followed his dad into law enforcement and he’s in Virginia working on a case.”
“I’ll be damned,” I said, tapping a pen on the desk and wondering how to steer the conversation away from my old boyfriend before she asked me to look him up. There were a variety of reasons why I had no interest in doing that, none of which I wanted to discuss right then. “Small world. Hey, Jenna says to tell you hello.”
“Wow, that might be the worst segue ever,” she said. “But all right. I won’t push it. Just wanted you to know. Give Jenna my love. How is she?”
“She’s great. Carson isn’t nursing anymore, so she had her first margaritas in two years at girls’ night Friday. Then she went with me to the accident scene at the river, which she was very excited about until we got there and she got an eyeful of why reporting isn’t always as much fun as it looks in the movies.”
“Ah.” My mother fell silent for a minute. “I can sympathize with that. I’m happy you love your job, but I don’t think I would care to see it for myself. I read your stories and I can’t imagine how you stand dealing with that day after day and stay off medication…”
She trailed off and when she spoke again she sounded slightly alarmed.
“Nicey, you’re not on medication, are you?” she asked.
“Not unless you count vitamins.” I laughed. “Contrary to popular belief, my job does not generally depress me. It’s usually pretty exciting. I have a story going out today I’m very excited about, in fact.”
“About what?”
“All sorts of intrigue at the police department this morning,” I said, refusing to elaborate any further. “You’ll have to read it like everyone else.”
“I gave you life, and you won’t even tell me what you’re working on,” she lamented. She sounded so convincingly pitiful, I almost felt bad, but then she laughed and I could picture the mischief flashing in her blue eyes.
“I love you, mom,” I said, my voice thickening slightly. Growing up the only child of an “I was an attachment parent before attachment parenting was cool” single mom made for a different dynamic. I missed her. And I lived in constant fear of her cancer returning. “Are you okay? Why are you tired?”
“I love you, too, kid. I’m fine. You stop worrying about me. I’m a pretty tough chick. I’ve just been busy at the shop, that’s all.” She’d expanded her flower shop into a one-stop wedding boutique after she’d recovered from the mastectomy. She loved it, which I found hilarious given that my mother’s opinion of marriage echoed the regard most women hold for sandals worn over socks: almost always good for a laugh and almost never a good idea. No wonder I had issues with my love life. “Have a better week. And call your mother more often.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I hung up the phone and shoved the stray lock of hair behind my ear again before I unfastened the clip and twisted all of my hair back up into it, my thoughts still on my mom.
The ringing phone jerked me back to the present. I picked it up and
“It is. The guys who died were all my age or younger. Not a fun weekend. I’m sorry I didn’t call you yesterday. I was at the accident scene until ridiculous-thirty on Friday night, and then back here all day Saturday, and I stayed home with Darcy and tried to relax yesterday.”
“I see.” Her tone brightened. “Speaking of relaxing, I went to the pool for the first time in years yesterday, and guess who I bumped into?”
“A handsome doctor who swept you off your flip flops?”
“Not quite.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “But I did have a nice chat with Rhonda Miller.”
“Aw, really?” It was entirely possible that I missed Kyle’s family more than I actually missed him. His parents were among the sweetest people I’d ever met. “How is she?”
“She’s doing really well. And so is Kyle. He’s somewhere up there, actually. She said he followed his dad into law enforcement and he’s in Virginia working on a case.”
“I’ll be damned,” I said, tapping a pen on the desk and wondering how to steer the conversation away from my old boyfriend before she asked me to look him up. There were a variety of reasons why I had no interest in doing that, none of which I wanted to discuss right then. “Small world. Hey, Jenna says to tell you hello.”
“Wow, that might be the worst segue ever,” she said. “But all right. I won’t push it. Just wanted you to know. Give Jenna my love. How is she?”
“She’s great. Carson isn’t nursing anymore, so she had her first margaritas in two years at girls’ night Friday. Then she went with me to the accident scene at the river, which she was very excited about until we got there and she got an eyeful of why reporting isn’t always as much fun as it looks in the movies.”
“Ah.” My mother fell silent for a minute. “I can sympathize with that. I’m happy you love your job, but I don’t think I would care to see it for myself. I read your stories and I can’t imagine how you stand dealing with that day after day and stay off medication…”
She trailed off and when she spoke again she sounded slightly alarmed.
“Nicey, you’re not on medication, are you?” she asked.
“Not unless you count vitamins.” I laughed. “Contrary to popular belief, my job does not generally depress me. It’s usually pretty exciting. I have a story going out today I’m very excited about, in fact.”
“About what?”
“All sorts of intrigue at the police department this morning,” I said, refusing to elaborate any further. “You’ll have to read it like everyone else.”
“I gave you life, and you won’t even tell me what you’re working on,” she lamented. She sounded so convincingly pitiful, I almost felt bad, but then she laughed and I could picture the mischief flashing in her blue eyes.
“I love you, mom,” I said, my voice thickening slightly. Growing up the only child of an “I was an attachment parent before attachment parenting was cool” single mom made for a different dynamic. I missed her. And I lived in constant fear of her cancer returning. “Are you okay? Why are you tired?”
“I love you, too, kid. I’m fine. You stop worrying about me. I’m a pretty tough chick. I’ve just been busy at the shop, that’s all.” She’d expanded her flower shop into a one-stop wedding boutique after she’d recovered from the mastectomy. She loved it, which I found hilarious given that my mother’s opinion of marriage echoed the regard most women hold for sandals worn over socks: almost always good for a laugh and almost never a good idea. No wonder I had issues with my love life. “Have a better week. And call your mother more often.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I hung up the phone and shoved the stray lock of hair behind my ear again before I unfastened the clip and twisted all of my hair back up into it, my thoughts still on my mom.
The ringing phone jerked me back to the present. I picked it up and
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