without looking at it. “No one is as slick, or as manipulative.”
“I take it your chat didn’t go as planned?”
Payton snorted and reached for her mother’s water. “Hardly.”
“He wasn’t receptive to what you had to say?”
“He didn’t give me a chance to say what I had to say. I barely even had a chance to say hello to Chandler before Wiley hustled me out of there.”
“Chandler?” Deborah peered over the top of the menu. “What was he doing there?”
“Beats me. Seeing Wiley, I suppose. Why?”
“You have been gone too long,” her mother lamented before leaning forward with a confidential air. “Chandler Thorne is a descendent of the founder of Bitterthorn. Everything that family does is proverbial grist for the mill, remember?”
“Of course I do.” But the importance of the name to all Bitterthorn residents had escaped her. She ran a distracted hand through her hair as a harried waitress made a beeline for their table. “He’s the editor for the Herald now. He wanted to know if I was coming back to Bitterthorn to open up a practice. Crazy rumors.”
“Heaven knows this town could use you.” Deborah shook her head after the waitress took their orders and sped off. “And you already have a place to stay. Except for a few old boxes, I’ve hardly changed your room at all.”
“Mom—”
“And I would love to have you closer to home.”
“Mother, please stop.” The words were out before she could corral them. “Bitterthorn isn’t home for me, and you never wanted it to be home for you.”
“I never used to,” Deborah corrected, her mouth tightening. “That was a long time ago.”
“Not that long. All my life, the only thing you wanted was to leave here for the city. Any city. Don’t you remember?”
“Of course.”
“I’ve never understood why you two got together in the first place. You’re from the big city, he was as small-town as you could get. Did you think that after you were married you were going to somehow magically change him? Or did Dad lie to you, tell you that you could live anywhere, but instead you got stuck in this little hick town?”
“No, he never lied to me. And Bitterthorn isn’t a hick town.”
Payton’s jaw almost unhinged. “ You’re the one who always called it that. What, did you suddenly wake up one morning and discover that you didn’t have it so bad here after all?”
Deborah’s eyes hardened. “Watch your tone.”
“Mom.” She exhaled slowly and wrestled with the chaos inside. “Please. I’m just trying to understand why you’re still here.”
“I don’t expect you to understand.” Though her tone was steely calm, there was the slightest tremor in Deborah’s hand as she lifted the water glass to her mouth. “But contrary to how it may have appeared to you, I did know what I was getting into when I married your father.”
“It never seemed that way to me.”
“We fought in front of you, which is a terrible thing for parents to do. But even worse, we never made up in front of you. So I guess in your memory, the battle never ended.”
That made Payton pause, because her mother was right. In her mind, her parents’ marriage had been one never-ending tussle between two hopelessly disparate people. “Did that battle ever end, Mom? Really?”
Her mother tilted her head. “We found our own kind of peace. But it wasn’t perfect, especially for you. After your father’s death—and the blow-up you and I had afterward—I had my eyes opened to a few not so pleasant realities. The first being that I’d been blind to the great life I’d had in my hand, because I was too busy reaching for something else.”
“That’s...understandable.” On automatic Payton tried to defend her mother’s actions; she couldn’t do anything else when the pain in Deborah’s tone struck a resonating chord of hurt in her own heart. “You didn’t want small-town life.”
“I didn’t know what I wanted.”
She searched her
“I take it your chat didn’t go as planned?”
Payton snorted and reached for her mother’s water. “Hardly.”
“He wasn’t receptive to what you had to say?”
“He didn’t give me a chance to say what I had to say. I barely even had a chance to say hello to Chandler before Wiley hustled me out of there.”
“Chandler?” Deborah peered over the top of the menu. “What was he doing there?”
“Beats me. Seeing Wiley, I suppose. Why?”
“You have been gone too long,” her mother lamented before leaning forward with a confidential air. “Chandler Thorne is a descendent of the founder of Bitterthorn. Everything that family does is proverbial grist for the mill, remember?”
“Of course I do.” But the importance of the name to all Bitterthorn residents had escaped her. She ran a distracted hand through her hair as a harried waitress made a beeline for their table. “He’s the editor for the Herald now. He wanted to know if I was coming back to Bitterthorn to open up a practice. Crazy rumors.”
“Heaven knows this town could use you.” Deborah shook her head after the waitress took their orders and sped off. “And you already have a place to stay. Except for a few old boxes, I’ve hardly changed your room at all.”
“Mom—”
“And I would love to have you closer to home.”
“Mother, please stop.” The words were out before she could corral them. “Bitterthorn isn’t home for me, and you never wanted it to be home for you.”
“I never used to,” Deborah corrected, her mouth tightening. “That was a long time ago.”
“Not that long. All my life, the only thing you wanted was to leave here for the city. Any city. Don’t you remember?”
“Of course.”
“I’ve never understood why you two got together in the first place. You’re from the big city, he was as small-town as you could get. Did you think that after you were married you were going to somehow magically change him? Or did Dad lie to you, tell you that you could live anywhere, but instead you got stuck in this little hick town?”
“No, he never lied to me. And Bitterthorn isn’t a hick town.”
Payton’s jaw almost unhinged. “ You’re the one who always called it that. What, did you suddenly wake up one morning and discover that you didn’t have it so bad here after all?”
Deborah’s eyes hardened. “Watch your tone.”
“Mom.” She exhaled slowly and wrestled with the chaos inside. “Please. I’m just trying to understand why you’re still here.”
“I don’t expect you to understand.” Though her tone was steely calm, there was the slightest tremor in Deborah’s hand as she lifted the water glass to her mouth. “But contrary to how it may have appeared to you, I did know what I was getting into when I married your father.”
“It never seemed that way to me.”
“We fought in front of you, which is a terrible thing for parents to do. But even worse, we never made up in front of you. So I guess in your memory, the battle never ended.”
That made Payton pause, because her mother was right. In her mind, her parents’ marriage had been one never-ending tussle between two hopelessly disparate people. “Did that battle ever end, Mom? Really?”
Her mother tilted her head. “We found our own kind of peace. But it wasn’t perfect, especially for you. After your father’s death—and the blow-up you and I had afterward—I had my eyes opened to a few not so pleasant realities. The first being that I’d been blind to the great life I’d had in my hand, because I was too busy reaching for something else.”
“That’s...understandable.” On automatic Payton tried to defend her mother’s actions; she couldn’t do anything else when the pain in Deborah’s tone struck a resonating chord of hurt in her own heart. “You didn’t want small-town life.”
“I didn’t know what I wanted.”
She searched her
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