Chapter 1 #3
They made their way to the table, and just as Emma settled into her chair, a familiar voice called out from behind. “I thought that was you.”
Emma turned and blinked. “Mom?”
Her mother, elegant in a silver sheath dress, stepped closer with a glass of champagne in hand. Her brown hair styled in a chignon, her lipstick, and her designer beaded clutch purse were all flawless.
“What are you doing here?” Emma gripped the wooden back of the upholstered chair. “I didn’t know you were invited.”
“Sylvia and I ended up playing in a pickleball tournament together last week. She insisted I attend. Said it would be lovely for the families to connect before the wedding.” Her mother’s smile didn’t quite reach her green eyes. “I thought, why not?”
Emma forced a smile. “Right. Of course.”
Nathan reached over and offered his hand. “Mrs. Wendel. It’s good to see you again.”
Her mother’s face lit up. “Likewise, Nathan. And please, call me Pam.”
Just then, Nathan’s phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen, frowning. “Sorry,” he said. “I need to take this. It’s about a patient. I’ll be right back.”
Emma watched him disappear into the hallway before turning back to her mother. “So . . . you and Sylvia are friends now?”
Mom chuckled. “Hardly. But we move in the same circles. And I do like to keep up appearances.”
No kidding. Emma sipped her water, hoping the conversation would stall there.
But her mother leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Besides, you and I need to talk.”
Uh-oh. Emma hesitated. “Everything okay?”
“Not really. I didn’t want to tell you this way, but I got another notice from Redemption. I haven’t paid the property taxes on our house.”
Emma’s mouth went dry. “What do you mean? As in you haven’t paid this year’s taxes yet or . . .”
Her mother sighed. “As in never.”
Emma gasped. “Never? Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“I didn’t think it would be an issue. But now there’s talk of liens and legal action.” Her mother shrugged, then took another sip of her champagne.
Emma’s stomach twisted. Maybe she should’ve seen this coming. “You couldn’t stand that house. Why have you hung on to the place all these years if you can’t afford the taxes?”
Something unreadable flashed across Mom’s face. “I never said I couldn’t stand that house.”
“Then why did we leave?”
Her mother huffed out a laugh. “After what your father did? And what happened between you and Luke?”
Emma’s breath hitched. Luke. “He didn’t—”
Mom held up her palm. “Don’t, Emma. Don’t romanticize it. Alaska ruined our family. Your father ruined us. And now he’s exactly where he belongs. Thankfully, his parole was denied.”
Emma squeezed her eyes shut. The words stung like lemon juice in a paper cut. No point in defending her father’s behavior though. At least not to her mother. Instead, she drew a calming breath, then opened her eyes. “So you just . . . what? Let the place rot?”
Her mother drained the last of her champagne. “It’s not my fault Redemption is grappling with mud and water damage and flooded houses. Somebody at town hall probably decided they had an axe to grind, and now they’re coming after me for these stupid taxes.”
Emma stared at her, stunned. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m realistic,” her mother said. “And I’m not going back there. Not now. Not ever.”
“Then I’ll go,” Emma said, the words tumbling out before she gave them much consideration. “I’ll reach out to Gavin. He’ll help me figure out what to do.”
“Will he though?” Her mother smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “I think you need to just let it go, but if you decide you’re going back, I won’t stand in your way. And I’m not about to cancel my honeymoon.”
“Honeymoon?”
“Egypt,” she said, her smile widening as she reached for her cloth napkin. “It’s a bucket-list destination. We’ve waited long enough since the wedding. Richard and I leave next week.”
Richard. Right. Husband number three.
Emma massaged her aching forehead with her fingertips. What was happening? How could she possibly be responsible for that house? She leaned back so the server could set a kale, quinoa, and avocado salad topped with candied walnuts in front of her.
A text message from Nathan popped up on her phone.
Nathan
Sorry had to leave quickly. Patient coded.
“Oh no.” Emma pressed her fingertips to her mouth. No point in texting him back. He wouldn’t read the message anyway.
Mom glanced at her from across the table. “Everything okay, love?”
No. Not at all. Because somehow she’d have to explain to her fiancé that she was headed to Alaska to sell a house.