2. Dom
DOM
As her back turned to me, gesturing for us to follow her into the house, I couldn’t help but stare at the back of her head. She certainly looked like my mom. But that couldn’t be her — my mother was dead.
This is a mirage. And yet somehow…
Kiera’s delicate hand pressed against my back, sending a tingle through the raised scars beneath my shirt.
“Come on,” she whispered, offering me the softest nod of encouragement. Her touch was warm against the sweat soaking my shirt, and the heat was just enough to startle me from my trance.
Clearing my throat, I nodded, leading the group as we followed this stranger with my mother’s blue eyes. She even smelled the same as I remembered — hints of jasmine, amber, and lemon — a scent that only grew as she swung open the door to her cottage.
Lady didn’t need an invitation, sprinting through the doorway and into this stranger’s house. Like she knew that this woman was special.
Through a squeaky screen door that she’d painted with little flowers was a small, colorful foyer. A long, pine bench meant for tying one’s shoes was half-covered with old duck jackets and rainboots. And over the freshly painted walls, bundles of dried flowers were hung like a woodsy garland.
“This way!” My mother called from down the hallway. I only managed a brief glimpse into the living room and at a door farther down the hall — her bedroom? — before I found the source of her call.
In the kitchen, floral motifs adorned the hand towels and tablecloth, while the backsplash was a varied mosaic of handpainted shapes on white tile.
While the others filed in around me, the sight of a chicken clock over the fridge nearly stopped me in my tracks. The bones here were good, and the kitchen was nicely renovated to make good use of its limited footprint.
But it was so much… homier than I would have ever expected for my mother. Her taste used to be so chic. And while there were certainly some elegant accents here, the overall aesthetic was closer to a grandma cottage than a high-profile lawyer’s vacation home.
“It’s kind of cool, right?” Vivienne, suddenly at my shoulder, nodded to the chicken clock.
“I used to think that stuff was so tacky. But I didn’t have to worry about other people’s opinions out here as much, so I figured why not try something goofy?
If I’m not going to have houseguests to entertain me, I might as well let the furniture try. ”
“It makes a statement,” I offered, still recovering from the shock of the ghost at my shoulder.
“How impartial,” Vivienne smirked, shifting her gaze from the clock up to my face. “I didn’t realize you’d grown up to be a politician, Madeline.”
“Dom.” I cleared my throat, keeping my eyes on the decor. “I go by Dom now.”
Hearing my old name from her lips was like a bucket of ice water over my skin. I had no idea what reaction to expect — Isaac certainly had no respect for my decision.
But Vivienne hardly missed a beat, giving me a once over as her smile grew. “Dom… What a beautiful name.”
Then, giving me a pat on the shoulder, my mother excused herself across the kitchen, readying a tea kettle that was in desperate want of company.
As quickly as anxiety had washed over me, it was replaced by the warm grace of her understanding. I shouldn’t have been surprised by the reaction — she’d always been this person in my childhood, the parent who loved and listened to every bit of me.
But then she was gone.
As surreal as it was to see her living and breathing in front of me, it brought up a pain that I thought I’d locked away a long time ago. A grief for the childhood I could have had, the person I might have been if she’d been around to shield me from Isaac.
If she’s alive, then why hadn’t she been there?
It was tempting to let my walls down in the face of her kindness, but I knew that it wasn’t safe to. Not yet.
Because until I knew how she’d survived Isaac, I couldn’t be sure that she wasn’t working for him.
I stood by the door, watching with my arms crossed as Spencer and Leo introduced themselves to my mother. It felt like some weird dream to watch them talk to one another. Leo tried to shake her hand before Mom pulled her into a hug, insisting that any friends of mine were welcome guests.
Kiera, meanwhile, was hovering near the kettle, waiting for the whistle to blow to turn down the burner. Once everyone was settled in their respective corners, sitting on counters and leaning against appliances with mugs full of warm tea, Kiera finally spoke up.
“I… can’t believe you’re the lawyer we’re meeting with.”
“Nuts, huh?” Viv smiled, taking a sip of something that smelled like jasmine. “But I knew you’d find me, smart girl.”
As Kiera blushed, I knew that the warmth in my chest wasn’t just from the tea. This was almost as big of a deal for Kiera as it was for me.
I just hope this isn’t another heartbreak waiting to happen.
My instinct, even now, was to protect Kiera. Even if that meant pushing her away sometimes. There was so much we needed to know before I trusted that we were safe. What was this place? Why, of all the lawyers in the world, did Brennan entrust his shares to a dead woman?
But as I set down my unsipped tea and stared down my mother, one question rose above all of the others: “How are you alive?”