The Soul Catcher - Alex Kava [36]
The waiter gave Maggie an exasperated glance, as if checking for any other demands. She relieved him with, “My Scotch can be from anywhere.”
“Of course.” He managed a smile and was off again.
The waiter barely left before her mother leaned over the table again to whisper, “It’s awfully early in the day to be drinking, Maggie.”
Maggie resisted the urge to remind her mother that perhaps this was a tendency she had picked up from her. Her jaw clenched and her fingers twisted the napkin in her lap.
“I didn’t get much sleep last night,” she offered as an explanation.
“Well, then some coffee might be more appropriate. I’ll call him back.” She started looking for the waiter.
“No, Mom. Stop.”
“Some caffeine is just what you need. Reverend Everett says caffeine can be medicinal if not abused. Just a little will help. You’ll see.”
“It’s okay. I don’t want any coffee. I don’t really even like coffee.”
“Oh, now, where did he run off to?”
“Mom, don’t.”
“He’s over at that table. I’ll just—”
“Mom, stop it. I want the goddamn Scotch.”
Her mother’s hand stopped in midair. “Well…okay.” She tucked the hand into her lap as if Maggie had slapped it.
Maggie had never spoken to her mother like that before. Where the hell did that come from? And now, as her mother’s face turned red, Maggie tried to remember if she had ever seen her mother embarrassed, though there had been plenty of times in the past that would have justified such a response. Like making her daughter drag her half-conscious body up three flights of stairs or waking up in a pool of vomit.
Maggie looked away, watching for the waiter, wondering how she’d get through an entire meal with this woman. She’d rather be anywhere else.
“I suppose that dog kept you awake,” her mother said as if there were no dark cloud of the past hanging over their table.
“No, actually it was my government job.”
She looked up at Maggie. There was yet another smile. “You know what I was thinking, sweetie?” As usual she conveniently changed the subject, a tactical expert at avoiding confrontation. “I was thinking we should do a big Thanksgiving dinner.”
Maggie stared at her. Surely, she must be joking.
“I’ll cook a turkey with all the trimmings. It’ll be just like the good ole days.”
The good ole days? That must be the punch line, but from what Maggie could tell, her mother was serious. The idea that the woman even knew which end of the turkey to stuff seemed incomprehensible.
“I’ll invite Stephen and Emily. It’s about time you met them. And you can bring Greg.”
Ah, no punch line. But definitely an ulterior motive. Of course, why hadn’t she seen that one coming?
“Mom, you know that’s not going to happen.”
“How is Greg? I miss seeing him.” Again, Kathleen O’Dell continued the charade as if Maggie hadn’t spoken.
“I suppose he’s fine.”
“Well, the two of you still talk, right?”
“Only about the division of our mutually accumulated assets.”
“Oh, sweetie. You should simply apologize. I’m sure Greg would take you back.”
“Excuse me? What exactly should I apologize for?”
“You know.”
“No, I don’t know.”
“For cheating on him with that cowboy in Nebraska.”
Maggie restrained her anger by strangling the cloth napkin in her lap.
“Nick Morrelli is not a cowboy. And I did not cheat on Greg.”
“Maybe not physically.”
This time her mother’s eyes caught hers, and Maggie couldn’t look away. She had never told her mother about Nick Morrelli, but obviously Greg had. She had met Nick last year. At the time he had been a county sheriff in a small Nebraska town. The two of them had spent a week together chasing a child killer. Ever since then she hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind for very long, a task made more difficult now that he was living in Boston, an A.D.A. for Suffolk County. But she was not even seeing Nick, had insisted, in fact, that they have little contact until her divorce was final. And, despite her feelings, she had not slept with Nick. She had never cheated on Greg, or at least not in a legal sense. Maybe she was guilty of cheating on him in her heart.
Never