Page 11 of Rebel Secrets (Devils Hockey #3)

Chapter Eight

E rin

“You and Rebel? On a date?”

“It’s not a date. He didn’t ask me out on a date. It’s more like a get-used-to-each-other dinner before we have to dance at the wedding.”

Rain and I were stocking shelves Sunday after closing. We’d been mobbed this weekend. Lots of people getting their reading material for the pool or vacation. Or it’d been a big release week, and we had a lot of new inventory.

Whatever, it’d been a busy day, and I was more than ready to head home with some Chinese takeout. I’d baked all week and had absolutely no desire to be in a kitchen tonight, and the next couple episodes of Wynonna Earp. Linny’s daughter, Maddy, had turned me onto the show, and I was hooked.

“Are you sure you two can be trusted in a public space together for more than five minutes alone? I mean, I’m sure Vic would like his restaurant to still be standing after you two leave.”

“I’m sure he’ll be on his best behavior.”

Rain’s grin held mischief. “He’s not the only one I’m talking about.”

Rolling my eyes, I shoved a book in an open space and ignored her smirk.

“Fine,” I shoved another book in an open slot then realized the latest Preston and Childs book did not belong in romance. Sighing, I grabbed it back and stalked across the store to the mystery and thriller section. “I’ll be on my best behavior. I promise.”

Rain followed behind me with the cart. “You know I’m just yanking your chain. But seriously, I can’t believe he asked you out. And I can’t believe you agreed.”

I shrugged, slotting the book where it was supposed to go. “It’s just dinner. I’m sure we’ll manage not to stab each other with forks at the table.”

While Rain laughed, my phone vibrated in the back pocket of my jeans. I pulled it out to check the number.

“Shit.”

“Something wrong?”

Sighing, I continued to stare at my phone. “It’s Mom.”

She’d texted, which I knew from experience, if I didn’t answer, she’d call next. And I had to think about when our last call was. And when I realized it’d been more than two weeks ago, I knew I had to be a fucking adult and talk to my mother.

“I can finish this,” Rain said. “Unless you don’t want to talk to her now.”

I glanced over my shoulder and curved my lips in a closed mouth smile. “No, better now than later.”

Later, I could drown my feelings in chocolate cake and alcohol.

“I’m just gonna go in the office.”

Rain nodded slowly, her expression sympathetic as I headed for the small office at the back of the store.

It was more of a storeroom than an office.

If we had any business, we did it more comfortably in the bakery at one of the tables there.

Not in the dark, tight room where we stored the books and where Connie Troutman, who owned the nail salon down the block, said someone had died.

She wasn’t sure who and she didn’t remember when, but she knew the police had taken a body out of there in the ’50s.

Connie had been said it so matter-of-factly, I had no reason to doubt her, and the lights were prone to flickering at weird times.

Perfect place to talk to my mom.

My inner rational adult rolled her eyes, but my overdramatic inner teenager thought it was fitting. At least in here, no one could hear me scream after I hung up.

Pulling up her contact number, I hesitated for just two seconds before I hit the little phone icon. Then I took a deep breath and blew it out.

“Hello Erin. How are you?”

“Hi, Mom. I’m fine.”

And then I went into my typical roundup of how great everything was going.

Books sales were doing well, prep for the wedding was ramping up, and Miss Raffi and Tressy had loved the sample appetizers.

Normally, I wouldn’t have mentioned the newspaper, but the devil on my shoulder told her about the article I did on Sir Fluffy Jack, the alpaca who’d gone on walkabout.

“Well, that all sounds…interesting,” Mom said. “You seem to be keeping busy.”

Busy. That’s what my mom thought about my livelihood. That it was “busy” work. My jaw clenched so hard, I swore the bones fractured.

“Yes, I’ve been busy,” I added a little emphasis on the word and tried not to sound too pissy. “So, what’s up, Mom?”

My mom didn’t call unless she had news or wanted something. Or both.

I heard my mom sigh, very faintly. “I wanted to remind you of the McNamara wedding in August. The invitation was for the family, of course. And your cousin is looking forward to seeing you. We need to order you a dress by the end of the month, if we’re going to get something decent.”

And that right there was exactly how my mother operated. A little nudge. A little guilt. Outright force when necessary. And when that didn’t work… The cold shoulder.

The McNamaras were cousins on my mom’s side. Amanda McNamara, who was just out of college, had bagged herself the rich heir to a cosmetics empire.

And I was being a total bitch. Amanda and I had attended the same boarding school, prep and college. That’s what McNamara-Wrights did. We had traditions.

Amanda had been a few years behind me, so we didn’t exactly mingle, but she’d seemed sweet.

I had no idea what she was like as an adult.

I hadn’t seen her in a few years. This wedding, unlike Tressy and Rowdy’s, was a command performance for me.

And since I didn’t want to argue with my mom, I swallowed down the bitterness and said, “Sure, Mom. Just send me a few links, and I’ll take a look. ”

A pause from the other end. “I thought maybe you could meet me in the city one day next week, and we could choose your dress together.”

My eyes closed as the guilt crept it. I usually managed to keep it at bay when I talked to my mom, but right now it was kicking my ass. I knew she actually did want to see me. And it had been a while since I’d been home.

And I knew, between Abby agreeing to work full time and the staff at the bakery, I could afford to take off Tuesday. But I had that date with Rebel?—

Wait. No. Not a date. Definitely not a date. It was just dinner so we could talk.

“Would Tuesday work for you?”

“That’s perfect, Erin. I’ll make a few appointments. Any place in particular you want to go?”

“I’ll leave that up to you, Mom. I trust your judgement.”

For the next few minutes, my mom listed places I either didn’t remember or never went to with her. And I’d gone to a lot of boutiques with my mom over the years. Until I’d escaped.

Okay, maybe that was a little overdramatic, but at the time, I’d felt like I had.

When my parents had asked me to come help Granddad shut down the paper five years ago, I felt like I’d been thrown a lifeline.

I’d been drowning in New York City after college, trying to be the good daughter and care about the family business.

My dad’s family owned a real-estate business.

An empire, really. One that sold multimillion-dollar homes to the rich and famous.

My older brother had joined right after college, jumping in with both feet. He enjoyed the cutthroat mentality needed to become a top moneymaker. My sister loved it, too, though she worked with families…who had huge amounts of money to spend on Penthouses and townhomes on the Upper West Side.

I hadn’t seen a place for myself there. I’d hated all the entertaining my parents did at their home, where I was expected to be the perfect McNamara-Wright daughter.

And I tried. I conformed as much as I could.

Even my college degree hadn’t even been my idea.

My mom had suggested pre-law and I’d thought, “Why not?” She’d actually been half-right.

I had enjoyed the history and civics classes, but I’d loved my electives even more.

Latin and English literature and feminist studies.

But I knew after I’d graduated that I wasn’t going to law school. And then there’d been my failed engagement. But I didn’t talk about that. I didn’t even like to think about it.

Finally, my mom said, “I’ll have a full itinerary sent to you tomorrow. It’ll be nice to see you, sweetheart. It’s been…a while.”

Ugh, the guilt. My heart raced and my stomach twisted. All because my mom said it’d be nice to see me. I was a horrible daughter.

“I’m sorry to cut this short, but we’re just closing the store for the night and I?—”

“How’s it going? The store? I talked to your grandfather the other day. He said you’re doing well. Both the bakery and the bookstore.”

Granddad hadn’t mentioned that Mom had called.

He knew it would do this to you.

“They keep me busy.”

And there that word again. Ugh.

Another pause, like my mom didn’t know what to say to that. The woman who could speak to every single person in a crowded room about anything at all didn’t know what to say to me about my livelihood.

“And Granddad? How’s he?”

Was that what this was all about? “He’s fine, Mom. He’s doing really well.”

“That’s good to hear. I’ve been thinking about coming out for a visit, before we go to the Hamptons for the wedding. I have a trip I need to make to Pittsburgh, and I could stop in St. David on my way.”

“Well, there’s a big wedding in town in a few weeks, and I’ll be really busy heading up to that. I’m handling a lot of the food and?—”

“Why don’t you send me the dates for that, and we can work around it?”

Which meant Mom had already made up her mind about coming. Goody.

Since Mom had gotten what she wanted, we hung up a minute later. I sat there, feeling all the shit I felt after I talked to my mom. Then I made myself get up and walk back out to the store.

“Everything okay?” Rain’s question held no inflection.

I nodded as I went to pick up the tray. “My presence has been requested. A command performance.”

Rain watched me with a steady gaze. “Would you like an emotional support friend to accompany you to wherever you’ve been commanded?”

I put the tray back down and took the hug Rain was offering. It loosened my jaw just enough that it wasn’t threatening to crack anymore.

“My cousin’s getting married. Mom’s taking me shopping for the appropriate dress.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad?”

Flopping down into one of the armchairs we’d pulled into the circle, I sighed and let my head fall back against the cushioned back.

“It’s not. It’s just…”

Rain took the seat opposite me, her steady gaze grounding me as I tried to stop from spiraling. I took a few deep breaths and blew them out, like I was in yoga. Definitely not skipping class tomorrow morning.

“I hate when I get like this. She’s not a bad person. She loves me and I love her. It’s just…I feel so bad that I can’t be the daughter she wants me to be.”

“You are who you are, Erin. You and your mom are different people.”

“I know that in here,” I tapped my head, “but there’s still that little girl in here,” now I tapped my chest, “that just wanted to go to public school and play soccer and, yeah, I know how pitiful this sounds. I’m twenty-nine fucking years old. I need to get over it.”

Rain nodded. “Yeah, you do. But we all want our parents to love us for who we are and not who they want us to be. Maybe you just need to show yours who you really are.”