Fortunately, it had become all hands on deck on the weekends, but I tried to take Sundays off. It gave Mi-Young time with the staff without my presence there. And it gave me a day to relax.
But I didn’t open for another thirty minutes.
I always arrived early enough to make sure the store was stocked, tidied, and as it should be. I could bring my laptop to the checkout desk to go through email and do other admin things after I’d opened.
I’d secured my purse in my office and was walking with phone in hand into the store when it rang.
I looked down and saw it was not a call from Judge to tease me about making him wait for a response (and I didn’t know whether to be relieved or in despair about that).
It was Mom.
I took the call, saying, “Motherrrrr, calling is so nineties.”
“I see it was unnecessary,” she curiously said in reply.
“Sorry?” I asked.
“You’re being you,” she did not quite answer.
“Please elucidate,” I demanded, wandering through the store with an eagle eye.
Though I knew I didn’t need to bother, Mi never left it in anything other than pristine condition.
“You felt…off during dinner at your dad’s,” Mom said.
I stopped wandering and focused on the conversation.
“And then you didn’t call…or text…to tell me off for ambushing you with Judge like that,” she finished.
Whereas being with Judge brought peace of mind and being obsessed with Judge when he wasn’t around played havoc at the same time reminded me that he gave me that was a tangle of confusing emotions.
This from Mom was flat-out not good.
Because I could let her off the hook in regards to her (deserved) guilt by telling her that Judge and I had gotten together that weekend and had a great time. Or to cover my ass in a variety of ways, I could lie that we did it to talk about the program, when we didn’t.
Or I could avoid it entirely.
That said, Judge worked directly with Duncan in the same suite of offices. There was definitely mutual respect there, but they didn’t strike me as chummy, so I doubted Judge would wander into Duncan’s office with a coffee and a rundown of our time together this weekend. But, in passing, he could let it slip.
And if Judge told Duncan, Duncan would tell Mom.
Which put me in a pickle because my usual go-to was lying, that was what I was leaning toward now, and lying didn’t work when it wasn’t believed, or it could easily be refuted by another source.
A serious bother.
And this did not better my mood.
I evaded with, “We’re meeting on Wednesday to nail down a message.”
“Are you angry at me?” she asked.
Yes, I’m angry at you.
Yes, yes, I’m angry at you.
I’m SO FUCKING ANGRY AT YOU.
But that was not about Judge.
That was about something she couldn’t change, something she couldn’t help, something that had happened to her, not that she made happen.
Something that was not her fault.
I was pissed all the same.
“Chloe?” she prompted.
I continued with my inspection of the store, stating drily, “I can manage my own love life, Mother.”
“You calling me ‘mother’ is not giving me good vibes,” she mumbled.
“Then perhaps butt out of my romantic liaisons.”
“Are you saying Judge is a romantic liaison?”
God damn it.
When I didn’t answer immediately, and it was not due to the fact a folded sweater was askew and I had to tuck my phone between ear and shoulder to right it, she continued.
“That kiss seemed to lean that way.”
Of course she saw the New Year’s kiss.
As I’d been the one being kissed, I knew there was no way in hell it could lean another way, even to an observer.
I decided to be blunt, which sadly made me repetitive.
“Mom, butt out.”
“I like him, what I know of him. But Duncan likes him very much—”
“Is this butting out?” I snapped.
“I just want you to be happy.”
“We’re both after the same goal,” I retorted. “But since it’s my life, how about you let me bear the brunt of that, yes?”
There was a moment’s hesitation and then, “I was wrong earlier, you don’t seem yourself.”
“I’m doing the walk-through before opening. I’m on until one by myself. I have things on my mind. No shade, Mom, but everything isn’t about you.”
Another hesitation before a quiet, “Ouch.”
She felt the pain, but I flinched.
Even if I knew that was harsh, I couldn’t find it in myself to take it back, smooth it over.
Are you looking after her?
Fuck you, Uncle Corey.
When I didn’t rush into the breach I’d caused, Mom entered it.
“Are you coming up to Prescott soon?”
Yes, next Saturday.
“I don’t know,” I told her.
“Even though you’re in the middle of something, I’d like to put a niggle in your ear to find some time to sit down with me to talk about your sister.”