Chapter Forty-One Her

Chapter Forty-One Her

Present Day

Sitting at the kitchen island the next morning with a bag of frozen peas clasped to my sore ribs made me hate every television

commercial filled with smiling families and steaming coffee. Fake PR bullshit. The over-the-counter medicine didn’t do much

for the pain or my mood. Watching Mom flit from the refrigerator to the stove as if she lived here didn’t help either.

Neither did the text I received a few minutes ago. It came from Portia, which raised all sorts of questions about how she

got the number and why anyone thought giving it to her was a good idea. She asked about my injury and said she was nearby

and would like to stop in.

Kathryn’s stink was all over this.

Knowing that a setup loomed, I should have said no. A thousand excuses to push Portia off popped into my head. I ignored all

of them. No idea why except that Portia’s obvious discomfort around her mom—in part because of the inevitable mother-daughter

clash that came at her age and partly due to her grief over her dad—pricked at the been there memories I tried to suppress.

Fighting off empathy qualified as my superpower. I’d nurtured the skill for years. I could wrestle any form of caring into

submission. Thanks, Mom. But spending so much time with her recently and reliving the memories of some of her greatest hits kicked my denial’s ass.

Portia deserved better. She didn’t know that or know me but maybe that bit of distance made it easier for her to try to connect.

Or she was just like her parents and had me fooled. Not sure yet.

I texted back to alert her to the invading press and to let me know when she pulled up so I could let her in without waiting.

Now the moment had arrived, and I had to tell Mom. The doorbell bonged before I could issue the warning.

Mom stopped in the middle of making a grilled cheese sandwich. “Why do people keep coming to this house?”

“I ask myself that question all the time. It’s not as if I’m a good hostess.” I’d had more visitors since Richmond died than

I had my entire life before then. “This time it’s Portia.”

“Richmond’s kid? Tell her to run back home to her bitchy mommy.”

There was that lack of compassion I knew all too well. It kicked to the surface with ease. Back in school I had to attend

these programs where the police would talk about safety and tell us to search for a law enforcement person if we needed help.

If we didn’t see one then reach out to a nearby woman. Knowing what my mom was like I always laughed at that suggestion.

I glanced at the security app video and saw Portia, head down, shifting her weight from foot to foot, with Kathryn hovering

behind her. Just as expected.

Mom grabbed the phone out of my hand. “Is that—”

“The bitchy mommy . Kathryn.” I threw the bag of peas on the counter.

“Do not let her in this house.” Mom issued the command while waving a spatula around.

“Kathryn is not great with being told no.”

“You have all the power here, Addison.”

“Tell her.” I could smell burning cheese. “You should flip that.”

Mom made the same annoying tsk-tsk sound that played as the soundtrack to every memory I had from growing up. “This is disappointing.”

“At least I’m consistent.” But burning food and scolding would have to wait. I blocked both like I had to block so much relating

to Mom. “You should go upstairs.”

Mom’s expression could only be described as chilling. “I am not hiding.”

Yeah, great plan. “Kathryn shouldn’t see you, or can she?”

There was so much I didn’t know. Mom fed me information in pieces, not caring if any of those missing pieces destroyed me.

“She’s lucky you’re such a softie because I would leave her outside in the dirt.” Mom waved the spatula at me a second time.

“Let the dragon lady in.”

“This should be fun.”

I barely got the door open when Kathryn burst inside and headed for the kitchen. She got as far as the doorway, saw Mom, and

slid to a stop.

Time for introductions. “Kathryn and Portia, this is my mother, Lizzy.”

Kathryn’s gaze roamed over Mom without any hint of recognition. Mom had dressed up to make her late breakfast, or early lunch, or whatever meal this was. The blue shirtdress and matching sandals didn’t look as comfortable as my lounge pants and bunny slippers but were very pretty.

Had she put on makeup? Now I worried she’d asked Elias to stop by. The poor bastard.

“Your mother.” Kathryn loaded a lot of disapproval into those two words.

I didn’t have the mental strength for this today. “I assume you knew I had one.”

“Richmond never mentioned relatives.”

Mom finally lowered the spatula. “I doubt your ex discussed private family matters with you. He wanted you out of his life.

That’s why you were the ex.”

Kathryn’s mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”

Oh, boy.

Portia moved beside me, dragging my attention away from the brewing brawl. “Are you okay? We heard you were attacked.”

“Oh, please.” Kathryn scoffed. “Is that rumor even true?”

I decided to answer Portia because her question sounded genuine. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but I’m fine.”

Portia glanced at the bottle of pain relievers. “Should you be in the hospital or—”

“No.” For some reason I felt the need to console Portia. She had enough to worry about and work through without adding me

to the list. “I really am okay. The ambulance people declared me well.”

“Do you think the person who hit you was the same person who killed Dad?”

“Portia, stop.” Kathryn’s firm voice echoed through the kitchen.

“I don’t know but I have security and my mom is visiting.” I tried to lighten my voice and really sell that last part as a good thing, but Portia’s frown told me she somehow understood.

“Is that why you’re here? To check on Addison?” Mom asked Kathryn.

“Portia insisted and I wasn’t about to let her come here alone.” Kathryn shook her head. “The press is out there... now

they’ve seen us. This is a disaster.”

Portia sighed and rolled her eyes at the same time. “Mom. You promised.”

The whole scene sucked. Sucked for Portia. For me. For all the daughters of messy mothers in the room. “I appreciate you came

by to check. Thank you.”

“What’s the plan here, Addison? Are you looking for sympathy? Hoping to win people over? Because it’s not going to happen.

We all know exactly what you are,” Kathryn said.

Mom abandoned her sandwich and braced her hands on the kitchen island. “You should shut your mouth.”

Kathryn didn’t look impressed. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“Someone who wasn’t invited but barged in anyway, using her daughter as bait.”

Kathryn made a strangled sound that telegraphed how little she thought of Mom and her comments. “I see where your daughter

learned her manners.”

That was a mistake. Kathryn expected Mom to concede. Mom would burn the house down with all of us in it first.

“You want to fight me, Kathryn? I’m ready.” Mom glanced at Kathryn’s hair. Then to her perfectly pressed pantsuit that likely

cost more than Mom’s entire wardrobe. “I would enjoy messing you up a bit.”

All because of Richmond. He wasn’t worth the energy women expended when dealing with his memory.

I sighed to let everyone know I was done. “That’s probably enough.”

“Mom, we should go.” Portia had shifted until she stood between Kathryn and the kitchen island, like a mom buffer. Her grip

on the countertop turned her knuckles white.

“I see your daughter got all the common sense in the family,” Mom said.

Kathryn pulled Portia against her side. “Don’t talk about her.”

Another eye roll. Portia had that move down. “Mom.”

Kathryn grabbed her bag and wrapped an arm around Portia before glaring at me. “You and I aren’t done.”

She kept saying things like that. The Dougherty family really needed to tone down the theatrics. “It feels like we are.”

Mom pointed toward the hallway. “The door is over there. Use it and don’t come back.”

“Not you, Portia.” I had no idea why I put that out there, but the words kept coming. “You’re welcome here any time.”

Kathryn walked around the island, hugging her purse. I was so busy watching her I almost missed Portia pulling away from the

island with a small black rectangle that looked like a USB drive in her hand. She practically threw it at me, pointed at her

mom’s back, then put a finger to her lips.

Kathryn spun around. “Let’s go, Portia. Do not ask to return.”

“Coming.” Portia shot me a half smile then increased her pace to catch up with her mom.

I waited until the front door closed to open my hand.

Mom picked the item up and studied it. “Interesting. It’s a listening device.”

I wasn’t an expert but it didn’t look like one. “How do you know?”

“I’ve been married four times.”

“And?”

“Men stray. You pick up some tricks to watch them.”

I had no idea what to say to that. I was too stuck on the idea that Kathryn planted the thing. That explained her obsession

with visiting. But when did she do it? Why? And why did Portia mess with her mom’s plans? A few seconds later I got a text

from Portia.

she put it there last time she thinks youre planning something

Thoughts jumbled in my head. I’d lost the ability to tell when I was being played and when someone was trying to save me,

since the latter never happened.

I clenched the device in my hand then wrapped a kitchen towel around it because I had no idea how the thing worked or what

the range was. “Portia came over to warn me.”

“Maybe someone in that family is worth two cents after all.”

I tightened my hold on the unexpected offering. “Despite your warning, Kathryn will be back when she realizes her device isn’t

working.”

Mom smiled. “I hope so.”

“Do not enjoy this.”

Mom kept smiling. “All I’m saying is it’s a good thing I brought a gun with me. Maybe I’ll get to use it.”