He checked the clock on the dashboard of his truck. With all six kids out of the house, his mother had a lot more free time these days. Time she filled with classes and her friends. If he remembered correctly, his mother should be between the gym and whatever lunch date she might have lined up.
He crossed to the front door, but it opened before he could knock.
“I saw you drive up,” his mother said with a smile, looking fit in a T-shirt and flared cropped pants. Her feet were bare, her toes painted pink. Although she’d always worn her hair long, a few years ago, she’d cut it off and every time he saw her, it was shorter still. Now it barely came to the bottom of her ears.
“Hey, Mom,” he greeted, bending down and kissing her cheek. “You going to get your head shaved next?”
“If that’s what I want,” she declared, stepping back so he could enter. “I’m working out more and short hair is easier. Today was my yoga class. I seem to be missing the bendy gene. I swear, the positions some of the women get in defy me. I push, but I can’t help thinking that at some point, I’ll simply snap a bone. I’m at that age, you know. Shrinking and brittle.”
“Hardly.”
Denise was in her early fifties and could easily pass for ten years younger. Despite the years she’d been alone, she’d never dated. Intellectually he knew it would be nice for her to find someone. But speaking as the oldest son and the one responsible for her, it wasn’t anything he wanted to deal with. Beating up some old guy for making moves on his mother wasn’t Ethan’s idea of a good time.
“Sweet of you to say so.” She studied him for a second, her dark eyes seeing more than most people’s. “What’s wrong?”
“Maybe I came by just to see you.”
“This time of the morning, midweek? I don’t think so. Besides, I can tell. What is it?”
She moved to the kitchen as she spoke and he followed automatically. Everything big was discussed in the kitchen. All revelations, celebrations, announcements.
She poured them each a cup of coffee, then picked up hers and leaned against the counter.
Her gaze was watchful, her expression neutral. She would wait as long as it took. As a teenager, he hated her patience. It had made him squirm and writhe until he eventually confessed to whatever it was he’d done wrong. Today he was grateful she didn’t try to distract him with small talk.
“I have a son. His name is Tyler and he’s eleven.”
His mother nearly dropped the mug of coffee. She quickly put it on the counter. Color drained from her face. She inhaled a deep breath, then another.
“Liz Sutton is back in town,” he continued. “I noticed her during the race yesterday. I went to see her and she told me.” He shoved both hands into his jeans. “I haven’t seen him, yet. I will later tonight.”
“Liz Sutton? You slept with Liz Sutton?”
“It was a long time ago, Mom.”
“I thought I knew about all your girlfriends. When was this?”
Before he could answer, she frowned. “If he’s eleven, you were in college. When we let you live in that apartment over the garage during the summer when you were home. You had sex above the garage?”
“Mom, that isn’t relevant.”
“I think it is. Very relevant. You promised you wouldn’t. You said no girls. You lied and you got one pregnant.”
“Mom.”
She drew in a breath. “Fine. You’re right. Liz got pregnant and…” Her eyes widened. “I have a grandson. Oh, Ethan. How did this happen?”
“We just talked about the sex thing.”
“No. I mean you having a child all this time. Eleven? You said he was eleven? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know.”
She gasped. “She kept it from you? I can’t believe it. How horrible. We have to do something. Are you sure it’s even yours?”
Her reaction was a little scattered, but that was to be expected. It wasn’t as if he was thinking straight, either.
“I’m not trying to be mean, but are you sure? Eleven years is a long time for her to keep this to herself. And why now? What does she want?”
That was a lot of questions. He went with the easiest one first. “The kid is mine. She wasn’t seeing anyone else.”
“Everyone knew what her mother was and the things I heard about her. More than heard. She would get drunk, stand in the parking lot of the bar and scream.” His mother shook her head. “It was horrible. I always felt so badly for Liz. I used to wonder if I should say something or try to help. I have daughters. I know what it’s like. But then she got pregnant.”
“Mom, you didn’t know she was pregnant.”
“You’re right.” She returned to the table. “I don’t even know what to think.”
“You and me both.”
“Do you think she wants money?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“She’s a successful mystery author. You’ve read her, remember? She’s written five books and they’ve all done well.”
“I guess you’re right.” Denise made a small sound of defeat and collapsed into a chair by the worn table. “You have a son.”