defense, but he didn’t seem to be trying to bait her, just stating a fact.
They reached a wide front porch and went up the steps, and Bev saw Liam and his mother were not alone. Vintage R.E.M. was blasting in the living room, and a twenty-something woman in a ripped t-shirt sat in a recliner reading Organic Gardening and drinking red wine next to a guy in head-to-toe black. His face was red and angry, his gaze on the young woman.
Liam turned to Bev. “My sister April and her boyfriend . . . ” he trailed off, frowning, then shrugged. “Don’t know his name.”
The guy glanced up at them, brought a bottle of beer up to his lips, then returned to staring at April.
“Hey,” April said in greeting, barely glancing at them. She went back to her magazine as if her boyfriend weren’t there.
“The keys are in the kitchen,” Liam said. “You can come with me or wait here.”
The silent drama between April and her boyfriend made her uncomfortable, so Bev followed Liam down a hallway, looking down at her shoes, hoping she wasn’t tracking dirt over the glossy oak floors. She picked a leaf off her jacket and tucked it in a pocket.
“Bev needs Ed’s keys,” Liam said, stepping into a sunshine-hued kitchen and heading straight for a baby-blue armoire in the corner. Trixie was stirring a pot on the stove, and looked up at Bev as she entered. “Otherwise she’ll need to find a motel.”
Curious to see Liam’s mother in a well-lit kitchen, Bev noted her high cheekbones and white, pixie-cut hair. She wore a patchwork denim apron around her generous hips, hot-pink Crocs, and no makeup.
“A motel?” Trixie asked. “Why?”
“Never mind, here they are.” Liam pulled a set of keys out of the armoire’s front drawer and came back over to Bev. “But don’t try the water heater door again. These are for the actual entrances.”
She held out her hand and smiled tightly. “Thanks for the tip.”
He stared at her, not handing over the keys, while Trixie came up behind him and rested a hand on his shoulder, facing Bev. “I shouldn’t have said what I did about your poor mother. Or about you not existing. The kids come over and we open the wine and the next thing you know I’m a blathering idiot.”
“Oh, please.” Bev smiled at her. “I’m so sorry I disturbed you.”
“I’ve been disturbed for years,” Trixie said. “No need to take credit for it.”
Liam raised his eyebrows and nodded, then Trixie noticed and swatted him on his butt with a wooden spoon.
He twisted around. “Hey, you got chili on my jeans.”
Bev’s gaze slipped down to the seat of Liam’s jeans. Trixie just laughed, swatted him again, and went back to the stove. Bev dragged her attention back up to his face.
“Come back here if there’s any problem with the keys,” Trixie said. “I don’t want to hear anything about a motel.”
Bev shook her head. “No, really, it’s fine—”
“Let’s go,” Liam said.
Trixie reached her hand out to him. “Let me see those first.”
He frowned, looking suspicious, but handed them to her. She clutched them in her fist and addressed Bev. “Promise me you won’t go looking for a motel,” she said. “I’ve got five bedrooms here and four are empty because my children would rather live in an ugly high-rise in San Francisco rather than with their own widowed mother.”
“Uh—” Bev said, absorbing the implied loss of Liam’s father with the awkwardness of the invitation. “That’s very kind of you—”
Liam reached over to take the keys away from her, but Trixie twisted away, hopped on a chair and lifted her arms and the keys over her head. “Promise.” She towered over the room. “You wouldn’t want to be the cause of an unfortunate family altercation.”
“But—” Bev glanced at Liam.
“Mom,” he said, voice calm. “She has a house next door. All she needs are the keys that you are, for some unknown, scary reason, not giving to her.”
Bev was more
They reached a wide front porch and went up the steps, and Bev saw Liam and his mother were not alone. Vintage R.E.M. was blasting in the living room, and a twenty-something woman in a ripped t-shirt sat in a recliner reading Organic Gardening and drinking red wine next to a guy in head-to-toe black. His face was red and angry, his gaze on the young woman.
Liam turned to Bev. “My sister April and her boyfriend . . . ” he trailed off, frowning, then shrugged. “Don’t know his name.”
The guy glanced up at them, brought a bottle of beer up to his lips, then returned to staring at April.
“Hey,” April said in greeting, barely glancing at them. She went back to her magazine as if her boyfriend weren’t there.
“The keys are in the kitchen,” Liam said. “You can come with me or wait here.”
The silent drama between April and her boyfriend made her uncomfortable, so Bev followed Liam down a hallway, looking down at her shoes, hoping she wasn’t tracking dirt over the glossy oak floors. She picked a leaf off her jacket and tucked it in a pocket.
“Bev needs Ed’s keys,” Liam said, stepping into a sunshine-hued kitchen and heading straight for a baby-blue armoire in the corner. Trixie was stirring a pot on the stove, and looked up at Bev as she entered. “Otherwise she’ll need to find a motel.”
Curious to see Liam’s mother in a well-lit kitchen, Bev noted her high cheekbones and white, pixie-cut hair. She wore a patchwork denim apron around her generous hips, hot-pink Crocs, and no makeup.
“A motel?” Trixie asked. “Why?”
“Never mind, here they are.” Liam pulled a set of keys out of the armoire’s front drawer and came back over to Bev. “But don’t try the water heater door again. These are for the actual entrances.”
She held out her hand and smiled tightly. “Thanks for the tip.”
He stared at her, not handing over the keys, while Trixie came up behind him and rested a hand on his shoulder, facing Bev. “I shouldn’t have said what I did about your poor mother. Or about you not existing. The kids come over and we open the wine and the next thing you know I’m a blathering idiot.”
“Oh, please.” Bev smiled at her. “I’m so sorry I disturbed you.”
“I’ve been disturbed for years,” Trixie said. “No need to take credit for it.”
Liam raised his eyebrows and nodded, then Trixie noticed and swatted him on his butt with a wooden spoon.
He twisted around. “Hey, you got chili on my jeans.”
Bev’s gaze slipped down to the seat of Liam’s jeans. Trixie just laughed, swatted him again, and went back to the stove. Bev dragged her attention back up to his face.
“Come back here if there’s any problem with the keys,” Trixie said. “I don’t want to hear anything about a motel.”
Bev shook her head. “No, really, it’s fine—”
“Let’s go,” Liam said.
Trixie reached her hand out to him. “Let me see those first.”
He frowned, looking suspicious, but handed them to her. She clutched them in her fist and addressed Bev. “Promise me you won’t go looking for a motel,” she said. “I’ve got five bedrooms here and four are empty because my children would rather live in an ugly high-rise in San Francisco rather than with their own widowed mother.”
“Uh—” Bev said, absorbing the implied loss of Liam’s father with the awkwardness of the invitation. “That’s very kind of you—”
Liam reached over to take the keys away from her, but Trixie twisted away, hopped on a chair and lifted her arms and the keys over her head. “Promise.” She towered over the room. “You wouldn’t want to be the cause of an unfortunate family altercation.”
“But—” Bev glanced at Liam.
“Mom,” he said, voice calm. “She has a house next door. All she needs are the keys that you are, for some unknown, scary reason, not giving to her.”
Bev was more
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