Chapter 9
Santa Claus—my old nemesis.
In any other context, I had no qualms with the jolly old elf. But the seven-foot-tall plastic statue with the faded red suit that stood in Aunt Liz’s backyard? Never had I wanted to burn a beloved holiday icon in effigy so badly.
“Twenty-seven years old and you’re still terrified of that thing,” Mom said from across the table.
I turned my head from the Santa statue to look at my mother. “Don’t confuse terror for sustained contempt.”
The wrappers and grease-stained paper bags from our lunch still rested on the iron patio table between us.
The outdoor thermostat painted with cardinals read that it was 48 degrees out.
The burgers were soggy and grease on the fries had cooled before we could even eat them, but lunch indoors wasn’t an option for Mom.
With a flick of her lighter, Mom lit her second cigarette. She inhaled and blew a curl of smoke out into the gray December sky. Her phone lit up with an email notification, but she quickly flipped it face-down before I could see who had contacted her.
Whatever. It was probably a random promotional email from one of the luxury stores she liked to shop at, anyway.
Mom flicked her blue eyes to the Santa statue and her filler-stuffed lips stretched into a smile. “You really need to learn to let things go, baby.”
My eyes narrowed. Had she been trapped in the snow beneath that abomination of a Christmas decoration when she was four, she might understand.
Though my real grudge was with Uncle Rick, who kept the statue up past Easter and Fourth of July solely because I was scared of it.
The damn thing never went into storage because Uncle Rick thought tormenting the only child in the family was the funniest shit in the world.
And since that asshole was finally dead, the tacky giant Santa would be a permanent sentinel in Aunt Liz’s brown, overgrown backyard. Grief was an odd animal.
Mom leaned back in her patio chair, her cigarette trapped between her ballerina pink nails.
“All right,” she sighed. “I’ve got a belly full of grease and lungs full of nicotine. Let’s talk.”
I rubbed the back of my neck and my stomach twisted, as if Santa’s cracked-paint gaze had suddenly turned judgmental. “Well, the timeline adds up, so I’m fairly certain they’re mine.”
“Fairly certain?”
My eyes narrowed. “You were the one who warned me to never get DNA tested—that’s the only way to be sure.”
“But you saw them?” she stressed. “This isn’t just a repeat of what Gold Digger did?”
I shifted in my chair and my eyes dropped to my lap. “Don’t call Katie that.”
“She broke my baby’s heart, I’ll call her whatever I want.” Mom took another drag of her cigarette. “Although there’s two gold diggers now. I should call the old one GD1 and this one GD2…”
“Mom, come on,” I groaned. “This is serious.”
Her fingers clutching her cigarette made her right hand look like a smoking pistol as she pointed at me. “I am serious. You called me last night about your new problem and now you’re shocked that I have concerns?”
I folded my arms. “Olivia Adams is many things, but she’s not a gold digger. She does wear those shoes you hate, though.”
Mom grimaced. “The ones that have ‘new money red’ paint slathered on the sole?”
“The very same.”
Mom flicked ash off her cigarette and sighed. “To tell you the truth, I just about fainted when you told me you got someone pregnant, but I’m not surprised it was her. You were obsessed with her in high school.”
I wouldn’t have been more shocked if Mom had slapped me across the face with a large mouth bass. Obsessed with Olivia?
“Did you and Aunt Liz hit the sauce this morning?” I asked. “I was never obsessed with Olivia!”
She gave me a look that I still recognized under all the plastic surgery and dropped her voice to imitate mine.
“I hate Olivia Adams so much. Why did Olivia Adams have to join the debate team? Olivia Adams is so fake. I got grouped with Olivia Adams for a project and I want to jump off a bridge. Olivia Adams, Olivia Adams, Olivia Adams.”
A vein throbbed in my temple. “What you’re describing is annoyance, not obsession!”
“Regardless…” She waved her hand, twisting the trail of smoke from the end of her cigarette. “We are the last Fontaines at a crossroads of the family legacy, so you have to be honest with me.”
Her eyes suddenly turned deathly serious. “Are you getting rid of the problem?”
I stiffened, returning her frozen-faced stare with an even colder one. “No.”
Mom leaned back in her chair and sucked on her cigarette until all that was left was an impossibly long cylinder of ash. Though I was resolute on seeing the pregnancy through, I couldn’t ignore the pang of guilt as I watched my mom cope.
After everything she had covered up, after everything generations of Fontaines had kept under wraps, I was going to be the first person in the family to have a real scandal.
I was having twins out of wedlock, there was a real doubt they would even bear the family name, and the woman I picked as their mother could barely function. What would Grandpa have said if he were still alive? He certainly wouldn’t have been proud of me.
I looked up at my mom as she smashed her cigarette into the ash tray. I couldn’t imagine my mother, who still had her blonde hair styled perfectly and wore her pearls to just lounge around the house, was proud of me either.
Yet she was still going to clean another mess up.
Her phone vibrated with another email notification and she quickly shut her phone off. “God damnit, does everything have to be on fucking fire right now?”
She lit a third cigarette and the sudden burst of tobacco in the air burned my eyes. She used to never smoke—said it would give her wrinkles—but that was before what happened with Dad.
Mom puffed out a cloud of smoke. “Who else have you told?”
“Just you and my finance guy,” I replied. “Not sure who all Olivia has been blabbing to, although she doesn’t appear to have any friends outside of Ashley Copeland and her husband.”
Mom scoffed. “Those two are all over the internet sharing their business. What makes you think they won’t share yours?”
I picked at the edge of my sweater sleeve. “Word was going to get out eventually. Olivia’s already showing and she’s living in my house. I know the average Elren citizen isn’t the most educated, but surely people will put two and two together.”
Though…it wouldn’t be fair if everyone in Elren found out before the rest of the family.
I swallowed, but my mouth had suddenly gone dry. “I’m…I’m figuring out a way to tell Dad.”
Mom sucked on her cigarette and looked away. “Just send him an email, like you always do.’”
My hands balled into loose fists on top of the patio table. I hadn’t sent anything to Dad’s work email in a few months—I was past that.
Although, maybe he’d respond for once. Maybe parents change when they’re about to become grandparents.
I cleared my throat. “You could come back to the manor, you know. I never moved into your old suite.” I looked up at her and tried not to sound too hopeful. “Neither of us know what we’re doing with the pregnancy. We could use some help.”
Mom blew out a puff of smoke and tapped her nails on the back of her phone. “You know I have to support Aunt Liz.”
I scoffed. “She has half of Mawmaw and Pawpaw’s inheritance and Uncle Rick’s military retirement. She could hire a team of maids and butlers if she wanted.”
Mom narrowed her eyes and flashed me a smile. “Liz is terrified of burglars and I’m a good shot—how about that?”
I leaned back in my chair and suppressed an eye-roll. As if burglars would come all the way out to Aunt Liz’s house—miles away from civilization. Unless someone just really wanted to steal a couple of decrepit horses or some tacky Christmas decor, Aunt Liz’s house was the safest place in the world.
The Santa statue would melt in the summer sun before Mom ever told me the truth of why she hid out here, so why bother asking?
Mom caught her reflection in a window and gently stretched the skin near the corner of her eye—or, at least, as far as it could stretch.
“I’ll have to run to the city for a touch up,” she said as a wave of smoke washed over her teeth. “One bad habit begets another, unfortunately.”
I rested my forearms on the tabletop. “Did you know scientists recently discovered a new sea urchin? Its venom contains neurotoxins that rival the effectiveness of your current injections.”
“If the venom can reverse the effects of a son who stresses me out,” she said as she put out her cigarette, “I’ll rub six of those fuckers across my face.”
Mom dusted the leftover ash off her hands. “How much does the girl know about your father?”
My chest tightened. “Same as everyone else—nothing.”
“Good.” The iron patio chair screeched across the concrete as Mom stood up. “Start the truck—I want to see her.”
My stomach was in knots the instant I turned onto the manor’s driveway. I had been horribly nervous the first time I introduced my mother to a girlfriend, but this was so much worse.
I had texted Olivia before we left Aunt Liz’s to warn her that we were coming, but I never got a response. I had no idea what state she would be in when we entered the house. Was she even dressed?
God, I hoped she had at least eaten something.
Titus greeted us in the foyer, but only Titus.
I gave my good boy a scratch behind the ears before calling out, “Adams, we’re here.”
No response.
I cursed under my breath and Mom trailed behind me as I searched for Olivia. She wasn’t in the kitchen, or the back patio, or the media room.
“She probably found the safe,” Mom said as I walked out of the empty gym. “She raked up all the family jewels while you were gone and drove off into the sunset.”
I crossed into the foyer and mashed the call button on the elevator. “Don’t be ridiculous, Mom. She’s probably in her room.”
“Her room,” Mom repeated with a smirk. “Well, that was fast.”