17. Nick
Chapter seventeen
Nick
This is a bad idea. It seemed brilliant when I asked Maddie to meet my mom—the perfect excuse to ensure I’m with Maddie and can protect her.
But after the Ciel dinner, I should have thought of an excuse as to why Maddie couldn’t come, even though she seemed excited to go.
But how could I disinvite her suddenly? She’d inevitably find out I’d visited my mom without her.
I didn’t think this through—on so many levels.
My relationship with Christina shifted after she met my mom.
My mom couldn’t stop pointing out the negatives of dating a rock musician.
Christina probably conceived the idea for her article that weekend.
I’m not sure if my mom is actively trying to undermine my dating life, or if she just has so much resentment against my father that she can’t keep it in.
I merge into the next lane as we head upstate in the band’s van.
“Was Sarah friendlier to you at work this week?” I ask. Hopefully she’s not trying to curry favor with Maddie now.
“No,” Maddie says. “Do you worry about that?”
“Yes,” I say.
“That’s terrible,” she says simply.
“It is. I’m not famous yet, but even so, people can be so obvious that they are befriending me because maybe I’ll become famous and be good to know.”
“I don’t think I have to worry about that happening with Sarah,” she says.
“But I was out of the office most of the week following Deputy Commissioner Galliano. It all seemed aboveboard, though. He attended one tenant meeting where they complained about repairs, but interestingly, other tenants vouched for him that he would fix everything. I also went to jujitsu classes every morning this week. I’m so sore. ”
“You followed him? Did he know?” The inspector said this wasn’t safe, and she’s following the main suspect around! At least she’s practicing her jujitsu.
“I don’t think so. I borrowed some wigs from my friend’s uncle. He works in theater, so he has everything. He also gave me eyeglasses and stuffing to change my body shape, etcetera. When you are famous, I can introduce you.”
“This sounds like something I must see. Do you have a photo?”
“No,” she says.
“Oh, I definitely want to go on an undercover mission with you.” It makes me feel better if Maddie is dressed as someone else. Maybe she’s not in danger, then. “Can I come on the next one?”
“Sure,” Maddie says. “Does that mean I get to be in charge of whatever you’re going to wear?” She’s wearing her evil grin.
“Be kind,” I say. “We’re almost there.”
We exit the highway.
“I’m sorry I’m pulling you away from your investigation.” And there was the perfect excuse that I was an idiot not to use.
“A walk in the woods will be good,” Maddie says. “At this point, I’m not getting anywhere with what I’m doing, and I need to step away. Some of my best ideas come when I’m walking, so I’m looking forward to our hike.”
“It’s not a full-on hike,” I say. “It’s a walk to a waterfall.”
“That sounds good too,” she says.
We turn off at the exit, and I pull onto a dirt path with a hiking trail sign. A bunch of cars are parked here. We exit the car, and both of us attach ice cleats to our boots because I know the path will be slick.
“These are cool,” Maddie says. “This is a whole other side of you.”
We walk carefully down the path, each finding a stick to use for balance.
It’s about a quarter mile, the snow and ice crunching under our feet, and then the wooded path opens up to this lake with an amazing waterfall.
The white water rushes down, and the whooshing sound is soothing.
I take a deep breath of the fresh pine-scented air.
“Wow,” Maddie says.
“I know,” I said. “My mom showed this to me when she first moved here. I come here sometimes when I’m feeling blocked.”
“Yes, I can see why,” she says. “It makes me feel like it’s all going to work out.”
I watch Maddie take it all in—her face glowing, her cheeks pink from the cold.
I want to stay in this moment, being here with her as we absorb the beauty of this winter wonderland.
Snow flurries float down. Maddie sticks out her tongue to catch one.
I feel such a yearning for this—a lifetime of these moments with her.
I swallow and look back over the lake to find my center again.
Music. The wind whistles through the trees.
Eventually, we walk back to the car, not needing to talk, appreciating the nature around us.
We remove our cleats, and I put them back in their bag. It’s only a few miles to my mom’s house.
As Maddie clips in her seat belt, she turns to me. “I don’t really feel comfortable lying to your mom that we’re dating. Can’t we tell her the truth?”
Bringing Maddie to meet my mom is such a bad idea. I should have told my mom that Maddie was in the middle of a work assignment and didn’t have time to meet. Why didn’t I do that?
Maddie repeats her question.
“It’s okay. I don’t think she’s actually excited I’m dating someone. She probably wants to warn you about the pitfalls. Then when we break up, she can say she told me so.” I pull out of the parking lot, heading back onto the country roads.
I bite my lip as I make another turn on these narrow country lanes. I hadn’t wanted to admit that, but it will be obvious when we meet my mom, so it’s better to prepare Maddie.
Maddie turns to face me. “C’mon… I’m sure your mom wants you to be happy.”
“She wants me to be happy…doing marketing or accounting,” I say.
Maybe a tinge of bitterness slips through.
“I would tell her, but her roommates can’t keep secrets.
That’s how the fact that Christina and I were dating leaked.
I was talking to my mom about Christina, and the next thing I knew, there was an article in The Squirrel titled ‘Who is Nick Devlin dating?’”
“She has roommates?”
“She bought the house with two female friends. They fell in love with the house on some group trip up here. They all have hobbies, and each has a hobby room.”
“That’s cool,” Maddie says.
“She’s happy,” I say. “And I’m happy that she’s happy.” I glance over at Maddie. She’s got that look when she wants to ask a million questions, but she’s wrestling with herself to decide what the best approach is.
“What is her hobby?” Maddie asks.
She’s decided to back off for now. I don’t doubt she’ll ask me more questions later.
But once she meets my mom, she’ll understand what I meant.
I’ve met Maddie’s mom in the hallway, and they seem to have a more normal mother-child relationship, if a little strained because Maddie doesn’t want to take over her cookie business.
“She knits, but her friend makes minis. That’s why I told you the mini knit sweater was a perfect gift for her. Not that you needed to bring a gift.”
“I can’t meet your mom and not bring a gift,” Maddie says. “How do you know for sure it was her roommate?”
Maddie hasn’t backed down.
“Her roommate apologized. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have known.”
“Your mom doesn’t miss New York?” she asks, changing the subject.
I point to the bag in the back. “She misses some things about New York. She sends me a list of food to bring up. But she loves the fresh smell of the countryside. And the views. You’ll understand when you see her house.”
We’ve arrived at my mom’s Victorian house, which sits at the top of the hill, close to the main street of Catskill.
It’s an over-the-top huge house with nine bedrooms, with each of the three women having two bedrooms leaving several spares for guests, like their visiting children or grandchildren.
There’s a wraparound porch on the first floor, perfect for reading books or writing lyrics, and then a second-floor balcony that provides a river vista.
The views are absolutely stunning when the sun sets and the leaves change.
Still, I was shocked when my mom first fell in love with this house. I thought she’d want a modern, utilitarian house, not one with nooks and crannies (and lots of maintenance) and history. So much history. It was the home of a judge. I can’t say I’ll ever truly understand my mom.
My mom meets us as I park the bus in the driveway next to their backyard, most of which is covered with a vegetable garden.
I hug my mom hello. She feels smaller—shorter and frailer—every time I do.
We break apart. My mom is definitely checking Maddie out.
I put my arm around Maddie and pull her closer to me.
“I feel like I’ve had a courtside seat to your dates, there’s been so much publicity,” my mom says. “I was sure it was merely a publicity stunt, but here you are.”
Maddie blinks.
“It’s not a publicity stunt,” I say.
“I thought you’d decided to fly solo, Nick?” my mom asks.
My mom has to be the only mother who’s not actively seeking grandchildren. Actually, she just really doesn’t want me to pursue a career as a musician.
“That was the plan, but then I met Maddie,” I say.
“You’re next-door neighbors?” she asks. “Was the article correct?”
“Yes,” I confirm. “That’s how we met.”
She nods but gives Maddie another once-over. As I grab the Orchard Folly-labeled bag, filled with specialty food items she requested from the city, she seems to glance at the band name. I probably should have packed it in a different bag.
“It seems like a big deal that MusEn picked you up,” she says.
“It is a big deal, Mom.” Dad was never picked up by a legit label.
“It’s great. He’s finally getting his break,” Maddie says.
“Do you actually believe that?” my mom asks. “Aren’t you worried you’ll lose him if he makes it big?”
Maddie stares at her. Her brow wrinkles as if she can’t quite make sense of my mom.
My mom’s open hostility toward my career is a shock to most people.