She hadn’t seen her mother in weeks, as her mother’s life revolved around the twins’ school and her work as a designer with Claire’s Fine Furnishings.
Stevie Buchanan was wearing leggings and boots and a thick sweater with a cashmere scarf around her neck. Libby was wearing a similar outfit—but her boots were a bit scuffed and her sweater not as elegant. Her mother had the same unruly hair as Libby, but she paid to have it straightened and wore it short. Libby held her mess back with a headband.
Her mother gave Libby a tight hug, held her out at arm’s length and looked at her. “You look great, honey,” she said, nodding approvingly. “You’ve put on a little weight since Mountain View.”
Libby wasn’t certain that was a compliment.
“So?” her mother said, smiling, as she picked up a menu. “I heard at the salon that you’ve been stepping out with Sam Winters.”
“Stepping out?” Libby laughed. “That’s so nineteen-twenties, Mom.”
Her mother waved a hand at her. “Come on, tell me all,” she said with a smile. “Well, not all. I don’t want to hear the details of your sex life.”
“Mom!”
“Oh, please. You’re almost twenty-seven. Let me tell you, I always thought that man was a hunk. So how did this thing get started between the two of you?”
“You really want to know?” Libby asked, and leaned forward, as if she was going to share a delicious secret. “He almost arrested me for violating the restraining order.”
Her mother gasped. “Libby!” she cried. “Good Lord!”
“It’s true!” Libby said laughingly. “I wasn’t really violating—well, okay, technically I was.” Her mother opened her mouth to protest, but Libby held up her hand. “Mom, spare me the lecture, please. I’ve heard enough from Sam and Madeline.”
She told her mother about the things Ryan had said, and Alice’s phone calls. She explained how she wanted more than anything to hear Ryan say he was sorry. She repeated the awful things Ryan said in the parking lot by the soccer fields, how angry Sam had been, and how the blizzard had put them together, given them a chance to talk, and . . . and now, she was happy. Utterly, completely, happy.
Her mother listened attentively, nodding as Libby talked, her brows rising up only once or twice. When Libby had finished filling her in on the last few weeks, her mother settled back against her chair, sipped her coffee, and put down the cup. “Libby, I’m happy that you’re happy.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“And I don’t want to point out the obvious.”
Libby sighed heavenward. Here it went—her mother could never just be happy for Libby. There was always a but, always a warning, always a little black cloud to cast over her. “Then maybe you shouldn’t,” Libby suggested.
“What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t say it?” her mother asked cheerfully. “You have a long history of creating impossible expectations for people and things and being terribly hurt when they don’t work out.”
“Mom—”
“Anh,” she said, throwing up a hand to keep Libby from disagreeing. “I’m serious, honey. From the beginning, this whole business with Ryan was one long impossible expectation that ended badly. Do you remember I warned you that he had a reputation around town?”
“You also told me the boy I crushed on in the fifth grade was bad news.”
“And I was right,” her mother said triumphantly. “He’s probably doing time somewhere right now.”
“You have never been happy with my choice of boyfriends.”
“Well, I’m happy with the choice of Sam Winters. Ryan . . .” She waved her hand. “It doesn’t matter, it’s all in the past. I just don’t want you to place some overly idealistic rosy picture on what’s happening between you and Sam right now. He has a history, as do you.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” Libby said evenly. “Because God knows I might have forgotten I spent a week in Mountain View this summer if you didn’t constantly remind me. Mom, I need to go. I’m going to be late to my meeting.”
“Oh, Libby,” her mother groaned. “Why did you volunteer to be on this committee? Of all the charitable things you could volunteer your time for, did it have to be Gwen Spangler’s committee?”
“It’s not Gwen’s committee, it’s Leo’s. And why did Gwen have to end up working on a cause for Leo? He is my friend, Mom. His brother is marrying my sister. Everyone seems so concerned about Gwen,” she said with mock worry as she fished her wallet from her purse.
Her mother waved her off the wallet and reached for her own. “I’ll get this, honey. I mean that you’re making it awkward for everyone because of what you did.”
“Great, I can add awkward to the list of things I have to worry about. You know what really gets me, Mom? I had one bad summer, and now I’m the town menace.”
“No, you’re not,” her mother said. “But you have to understand that no one will ever be comfortable with you and the Spanglers in the same room again.”