Page 58 of Middle Ground

Sitting in the same room as my mother while she and her friends read fictional sex scenes aloud is not what I would consider a good time. Mom and I are close, but notthatclose.

She shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

“Anyway.” I forcefully try to pivot the conversation. “I just wanted to come see how you’re doing.”

“She begged me to come with her,” Jackson adds.

I throw him another dirty look. Mom glances between us, that same meddling glint in her eye, but then she settles on me.

“Oh, I’m perfectly fine. I’d like to hear about you, though. Why didn’t you tell me about the vandalism?”

I should have known she would find out.She may not live in Fraisier Creek anymore, but she has more connections than a politician’s nepotism baby. There’s hardly anything I can successfully hide from her.

I sigh, deflated. “Because I didn’t want you to know.”

She frowns. “Just because I’m not there to handle the day-to-day things doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what’s going on. You can always talk to me. You know that.”

My mother chastising me isn’t anything new, but the guilt making a home inside me is. I don’t keep things from her. But every time I tried to pick up the phone, I chickened out. Then I was in too deep and decided not telling her was the best option.

I eye Jackson. He seems to pick up on my silent cue, standing from the couch.

“I’m just going to step outside for a minute,” he says. “I have a call to make.”

Once the front door shuts behind him, I turn back to my mom. “I was scared you would be disappointed in me,” I admit quietly.

Her brows furrow, which causes the lines on her forehead to deepen. “Disappointed in you? Why would I be disappointed in you?”

“As soon as I take control of the inn, something likethathappens?” I scoff. “The inn means so much to you, and I let it getvandalized. I’d be disappointed in me.”

Mom sits forward, turning fully to face me. “Meyer Ellison, you knock that off right now. I’m honestly a little offended that you think I’m that unreasonable.”

I shake my head. “No, Mom, I just…” I look down at my hands in my lap. “I really want to make you proud.”

“My girl,” she says, “I’ve been proud of you since the moment I found you.”

My mother has always given her love freely. She’s never given me a reason to doubt her. But there has always been this part of me, this voice inside my head, that tells me I’m not good enough. That I need to be better if I want her to keep loving me. It’s part of why I try so hard with the inn.

I stare at my hands in my lap. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Guilt gnaws at me. Now is the perfect opportunity to tell her about what Jackson found, about the pictures. But I don’t.

I gave the police my statement, and now I just want to move on. Forget it happened. Maybe that’s not the smart thing to do, but the inn is my priority right now.

“I forgive you. Now, tell me,” she says, raising a brow, “how are things really going with Jackson?”

“They’re…good,” I reply reluctantly.

Jackson was right the other day. I kind of hate admitting when I’m wrong, and maybe I was a little bit wrong about him. Although I still resist change, I can admit that some of his suggestions haven’t beenterrible.

Mom hums. “Glad to see your pride isn’t getting in your way.”

My nose scrunches. “My pride doesn’t get in my way.”

She pats my arm placatingly. “You forget I’ve known you for twenty-five years, my prickly pear. There isn’t much you can get past me.”

Rolling my eyes, I admit, “It was a littlerough at first. I…may have been a little stubborn. But things are going smoother now.”

This makes her smile, and she reaches over to pat my knee. “Good. That’s exactly what Cherie wanted.”