by Gina LaManna
“I know,” she said. “Now, you owe me. Wear a dress tonight.”
ASHA HAD A POINT. I’D kept her working most of Saturday, and part of it had been on a personal favor. The least I could do was follow her advice for the rest of the evening. That advice began with a stop to my mother’s café.
I found my mother working the cash register, smiling at a customer. She had a bit of flour in her hair and a streak of chocolate on her collar bone. Her apron was floral and worn; she’d been using several of the same aprons for decades. It sent me back down memory lane for a brief moment, picturing her in the kitchen humming while my dad poured coffee next to her. The memory was both comforting and disconcerting all at once. How had something so right gone so wrong?
Her smile faded as the customer backed away toward the pickup counter, and a hint of vulnerability appeared on her face. She looked older than I remembered, and I wondered if she’d been aging before my eyes. Had I been too busy to notice? Or maybe it was something else. Maybe I’d caught her in a stretch of sadness—tiptoeing down her own memory lane. She had deep laugh lines to the sides of her mouth that twitched when she smiled, but at the moment, they were still.
“Ma?” I slid up to the counter, waited as my mother topped off a latte and handed it over to the previous customer. “I was wondering if we could chat for a minute.”
“Sure, honey. What do you need? If you tell me more caffeine...”
“No, I’m good,” I said. “Maybe we can sit?”
Mama Rosetti wiped her hands on her apron then leaned back and kicked open the swinging door to the kitchen. “Elizabeth, can you watch the front for me? Leave the cookies—I’ll get them later. I’m going to chat with Kate for a minute.”
My mother grabbed a pot of hot water, two cups and two tea bags from behind the counter, then joined me at a small table by the window. My chair was decked out in floral print pillows, and there was a little succulent on the table to keep us company. An air plant dangled in a macramé hanger attached to the ceiling above us.
“I got the results back on Greg.” I dove right in the second we plunked our teabags in to steep. “I’m assuming you’d like to be briefed?”
“Er—yes. Of course. That’s why I asked.”
“Why did you ask? Remind me?”
“Well, to inspect his background.”
“For a job?” My eyebrows raised. “Which I find especially odd seeing as your Mr. Roman is currently employed at a prestigious law firm and has shown no signs of quitting or being terminated or being otherwise let go from his position.”
“You know, he...”
“Don’t tell me he needs a side hustle,” I said. “The report had his salary in it. He’s doing just fine.”
“Is he?” My mother’s ears seemed to perk up a little. “How fine are we talking, exactly?”
“Mother!” I gave her my best solemn stare. “You can’t have me inspect your potential dates—and especially not on work time. It was already a stretch when I was thinking it was for legitimate employment purposes, but for a guy you’ve been messaging on a dating site?”
“You found that, did you?” My mother’s cheeks turned pink. “I hope our messages weren’t included in the report.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have asked me if you didn’t want me to find your private information. I’m a detective.” I didn’t bother to point out that it was Asha who had actually put all the puzzle pieces together. “What did you think we’d find?”
“I’m not entirely sure. That’s why I asked you to look into things. What did you find, if you don’t mind sharing?”
“I do mind. You used me, ma.”
“Look, I’m sorry, Kate.” My mother folded her hands around her steaming mug of tea and pulled it closer. She dunked the bag absently a few times before pulling it out and setting it on the small saucer. “But you don’t understand what it’s like.”
“What don’t I understand?”
“I was married to your father for a long time,” she said. “He was my first real love. Honestly, my only love so far. I dated before him, but nothing serious came of it. Your father and I, we shared everything. Our secrets, our passions, our lives. We had two beautiful children together. And then one day, I discovered it was all a lie.”
“I know mom,” I said, my voice softer. “He was my dad. He lied to us, too.”
She tipped her head sideways. “He always was your hero, and I know it was hard on you to lose that. But you were so young. I was married to a man I thought I knew—and I’m sorry, but you can’t imagine what it’s like to find out that I didn’t know him at all. Living with someone, sleeping next to them for a decade, thinking he’s your one true love, only to find out he hasn’t bothered to tell you he’s a crook?”
“I’m sorry, ma. I didn’t...” I cleared my throat. “You’ve never really talked to me about this before.”
“I didn’t want him to leave. I didn’t want any of it to be true,” she said. “And when they convicted him, I still convinced myself it wasn’t real.”
“We all did. At least for a little while.”
“A little while,” she murmured. “That’s all I could give him.”
“Because of us, or because of you?”
My mother’s eyes blinked up at me. “What do you mean?”
“Did you divorce dad because you needed to, or did you do it for us?”
She pursed her lips. “It’s much more complicated than that. Marriage isn’t a simple thing. Even when it’s easy, there are complexities to it that are impossible to put into words.”
“That didn’t answer my question.”
“I don’t know the answer, Kate! I didn’t want to divorce your father. If I had it my way, our family would still be together. When we married, I meant it for life.”
“Then why did you divorce him?” I pressed. “You could have waited and tried again. Maybe he would have changed. Maybe things could have worked out between you two.”
“That’s enough.” Her face went slack. “You don’t know what I went through. Yes, Kate, you lost your father in a way, and that is awful. I’m not saying what I went through was worse, but there were choices I had to make that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. I did it for my girls. For whatever was left of us.”
“Do you still love him?”
Her lips parted in surprise. “It’s been decades since we separated.”
“And you haven’t dated for most of that time.”
“I was a single mom, getting a business up and running, taking care of my two girls. When did I have time to date?”
“You’re being pretty evasive for a simple question. It’s a yes or no answer.”
“It’s complicated—”
“Life is complicated,” I argued. “Do you still love him or don’t you?”
My mother’s eyes turned downcast. She tapped her fingers on the edge of the cup. “He was my husband for a long time. He’s the father of my darling daughters. Without him, I wouldn’t have the family that I do. I’m grateful to him. But...”
I gave her the space and time she needed to think. She glanced out the window, appearing lost in thought. By the time she spoke, my tea was halfway gone.
“I’ll always love him,” she said. “At least, in some way. See, the reason your father and I separated wasn’t because my feelings for him changed. Honestly, his crimes didn’t bother me all that much.” She gave a flimsy smile. “Of course it was wrong, what he did. He shouldn’t have done any of it, and he should have been honest with me from the very start. But the reason he wasn’t honest with me was because he wanted to protect us.”
“From a mess he got himself into.”
“The situation is more complicated than you know. The press makes it easy to paint the picture of a villain, but one thing I’ve always held onto is the fact that your father has a good heart. He was a good man who loved his daughters. He loved me. I never doubted that. He stumbled into a sticky spot and made a few bad choices. Who
hasn’t made a bad choice?”
Over the years, I’d rarely heard my mother speak so fondly of my father. She certainly hadn’t praised him or his actions, nor had she spoken of her feelings for him. On the other hand, she’d never berated him, never played up his faults, never poisoned our minds against him. It was as if my father had simply gone away one day and never come back.
“We’ve all made bad choices.” My mother continued as if I weren’t there. “I’ve made my fair share, I know that.”
“Do you think it was the right choice to leave dad?”
“It was more his choice than mine.” My mother’s hands jerked her teacup closer, as if she’d startled herself by admitting the truth. “He encouraged me to leave. Said that I didn’t deserve the burden of remaining married to him.”
“What did you think?”
“I don’t know. Marriage vows state a man and wife stay together through the good times and the bad—within reason, of course. Your father had stumbled on rough times. I hadn’t planned to abandon him during his years in prison. It wasn’t as if he was abusive or anything so ugly—he loved us. He was gentle and sweet. I still don’t think of him as a criminal.”
“Why did you leave him, then?”
She blinked, her eyes tearing. “He divorced me, Kate. I never told you girls—I never told anyone. I begged him not to, I asked him to reconsider, but he insisted.”
“But...” I gaped. “That’s not what he said—”
“He said?”
I blinked. I hadn’t told my mom that I had talked to my father, so I quickly backpedaled. “I mean, all these years we just assumed...”
“I let you assume whatever you wanted. I thought it would only complicate matters to draw you girls into the mess,” she said, and then repeated, “You were both so young.”
“Why did he divorce you?”
“He said it was for us. For me, for you girls. Think about it, Kate. He was in prison. When you went to grade school, what were you to say when your father never showed up to parent teacher conferences? It was easier to say that your parents had divorced, and that you lived with your mom, than to explain otherwise.”
“Who cares what other people think?”
“Not me,” my mother said firmly. “But your father thought it could affect your life. He knew you could be the best cop in the state if you wanted. And you wanted it, you always had.”
“It doesn’t stop people from knowing my father’s name,” I said, thinking of Jodie Colombo and Kevin Cox and many others who’d had a prejudice—good or bad—against me from the mention of my last name. “It hasn’t stopped people from making assumptions one way or another.”
“No, but it is different. You grew up completely independent of him. You were a child when he went away; nobody can fault you for your actions.”
“That doesn’t mean they don’t.”
“That’s on them. You haven’t had contact with him in decades. If you’d been closer to him, associated with him...things might have been worse for you and your career.”
“Maybe.” I leaned back in my chair uncomfortably. “Maybe not.”
The no contact for decades comment had me uneasy. A part of me felt as if I should come clean, but the majority of me wanted to hold back. My mother had just confessed to still having feelings for my father, just as she was about to go on a date for the first time in years. She deserved a second chance. She deserved happiness. My father had made his choice and left her the first time.
“I suppose we’ll never know.” My mother eased forward in her chair, the forlorn look replaced by a business-like expression. “But that’s enough about your father. I don’t even know how we got to talking about him.”
“Has he...” I hesitated. “Does he ever try to contact you?”
My mother looked somewhat shocked. “What sort of question is that? Has he contacted you? Why all this interest in your father now, after all these years?”
“Never mind,” I said quickly. I was curious to know why my mother had dodged the question, but not so curious that I wanted to spill my own secrets. “You do know that none of this would have come up if you hadn’t made me and Asha dig into your dating life.”
“I think I deserve to know what you found out about Greg.” My mother tilted her chin higher. “I apologize for not being entirely truthful about the situation, but I hope you can understand why I’m a bit leery of jumping back into the dating pond. With my past relationship experience, it’s only right that I’m cautious.”
“While I see your point—”
“You’re one to talk,” my mother interrupted. “You’re sitting here with your mother instead of going home to prepare for your date. Yes, Jimmy talks to me, and I know about your agent. I know why Russo’s really in town. So, those in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones, honey. You haven’t been entirely honest with me about your love life, either.”
“You hadn’t asked!”
“You hadn’t asked about your father.”
We came to a standstill.
“I know why you didn’t tell me about your agent,” my mother said gently. “And it might partly be my fault. Your father’s fault, too.”
“Which part?”
“Your father up and left from an early age. You didn’t have a good male role model in your life. And the one man who you did look up to more than anything, trusted more than anyone, disappeared on you.”
“Come on, ma. Don’t make this about daddy issues. It’s not like that. I just have a job that I love, and it keeps me too busy to date.”
“I never regretted the time I spent with your father. I still don’t regret marrying him. Having a job isn’t the same as having a partner, Kate. It’s nice to find someone who loves you unconditionally. But you have to give it a chance to grow.”
“So I’ve heard. A lot of people feel like relationship gurus today.”
My mother gave me a tender smile. “I know you’re tough, and strong, and you carry a weapon that terrifies me and probably scares most men away. But there’s someone out there, and I’d hate for you to let them slip through your fingers. Don’t let one little case, or your mother’s dating life, come between you and a chance at a real relationship.”
I chewed on my cheek. “It’s just one date.”
“Then you should probably give me the lowdown on Greg so you can go home and get dressed. You’re not wearing that, are you? And your hair looks a little flat. When’s the last time you got it cut? If you go to Sandy, she’ll give you a Rosetti discount. Just tell her—”
“And my mother’s back, ladies and gentleman,” I muttered. “Enough about my hair. The lowdown on Greg is that, in a nutshell, he’s squeaky clean. He’s so boring that even Asha knew something was up. Well, that and the fact that he hadn’t applied for a job here, and he still had employment at another place.”
“Great!” My mother clapped her hands. “Did you, um, get the file on him?”
“I’m not giving it to you. Get to know him like a normal person,” I said. “If you go in there knowing his salary and how much he contributes to his 401k, he will think you’re a creep.”
“Do you know this from experience?”
I made a face but let it drop. Because it was partially true. I’d looked up Russo’s file before I’d gone out with him, and I’d accidentally dropped the name of his street address before he’d told me where he lived. It had been an awkward phone call.
“I see,” my mother said. “But, did you happen to glimpse a picture of him?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“I’m not giving feedback on my mother’s date! That’s just weird,” I said. “But if it makes you feel any better, Asha said that for his age, he’s pretty attractive.”
“I’ll take it,” my mother said. “Asha has good taste. Though I’m not too fond about the age comment, I can see what she’s getting at. If he’s really sixty-two, and Asha says he’s pretty good for his age, then I’m on board.
”
“And this is where we part ways. Please spare me any additional details.”
My mother held out a hand as I went to stand. “Kate, thank you. Really. For your help, and for understanding. Or trying to understand.”
“Anytime.” I stood, gathered my teacup in hand. Then I sat down and looked my mother directly in the eye. “I’m not a kid anymore, ma. If you want to talk to me about stuff—your dating life, or what your life with dad was really like, or how you managed to raise two girls and start a business on your own, I’d really like to hear more about it. I know it’s complex and complicated, but I’m an adult now. I can try to understand; you don’t have to protect me.”
My mom squeezed my hand. “Thank you, sweetie. I’d like that. And, similarly...” She drew a fortifying breath. “If you have questions you want to ask—what happened between me and your father, for example, just ask. I’ll do my best to tell you the truth.”
I gave my mother a hug before we parted ways. However, once she started picking through my hair and giving me advice on which size curling iron barrel to use, I backed away and let myself out of the café.
My mother had left me a lot to chew on. I slid into my car and cruised home on autopilot, wondering how much more there was to the story of my mother and father’s life.
It left me conflicted, knowing my parents had feelings for one another in some way, shape, or form. I felt placed in the middle, as if it were my duty to let them each know the truth.
But this wasn’t a movie, and I wasn’t Lindsay Lohan in a remake of The Parent Trap, so I let it go. But as I climbed upstairs and found my sister getting ready for work, I let myself stop in her doorway.
“Jane,” I said. “Can we talk?”
Chapter 11
Getting beautiful was a heck of a lot more tedious than chasing down murderers. My curling iron refused to make a dent in my hair. My mascara clumped and left me looking like one of the Kardashians.
I went through three pairs of tights before I managed to pull a pair up without ripping a huge hole in the leg, only to find that they were itchy and uncomfortable and not worth the effort. Into the trash they went, along with the lipstick that broke in half, probably because it was left over from prom.
