“And he didn’t say anything? At all?” Jenna huffed indignantly as she pushed Vincent in the swing.

“Not a word. Just sat there, looking at the check.”

“Has he deposited it?”

I shook my head. “Not as far as I can tell. All the money is still sitting there.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” she said.

I gave her a sideways look.

“What do you mean, a relief? He hasn’t responded to the ultimatum, and he hasn’t released me from my debt. How is that a relief?”

She rolled her eyes. “It isn’t a debt; it’s a gift.”

“It’s hush money.”

“It was hush money. Now, it’s just money. Nobody’s asking you to keep quiet anymore, right? So, it’s just money. Your money, and you should use it however you see fit. I saw a cute little house for sale on my way here. You could put a deposit down on it, get out of Mom’s hair—”

“Mom doesn’t mind me living there,” I objected. “She likes seeing the kids every day and she enjoys helping. It gives her something to do.”

“She has things to do,” Jenna argued. “She works, and she’s got her garden, and I swear if that woman doesn’t get back to her designs soon, I’m going to start poking her with sketching pencils until she does. Besides, she’s still young. She should be out dating and stuff, not raising the next generation.”

“She isn’t raising them; I am.”

“With her help.”

“Well…yeah…but she likes to help.”

“Look,” Jenna sighed as she lifted Vincent out of his swing. “She loves you. And she loves the kids. And because she loves you, she would never tell you this, but she has a life to get back to. She was more than happy to take you in and she’s happy to have you stay, but she’s put her whole life on hold all over again. She did it for us when we were kids, and now she’s gone and done it again. She deserves freedom, Shelley. And you deserve that money.”

I lifted Frida out of the swing and set her down. She followed Vincent to the toddler-sized playground apparatus, and they began climbing the gentle slope of a plastic turtle shell. I hovered near Frida, knowing that she was going to try to follow in her brother’s footsteps, and was likely to tumble.

“I don’t want the money,” I told her firmly. “I just don’t. If business keeps up the way it’s going, I’ll have enough of my own money to put a down payment on a little house in a few years. By the time the kids are in first grade, I’ll be able to move into my own place. That still gives her plenty of time to be a fascinating single lady.”

I said it firmly, but suddenly, I wasn’t sure. Jenna had a way of pointing out obvious practicalities that I had a habit of missing. It threw me off balance every time, and especially this time. She was right. It was a lot of money to ignore, and I had been sort of invading Mom’s space for the last couple years.

“Besides, he still has the check,” I said finally. “He could cash it any time he pleases.”

“He won’t,” she said confidently.

“How do you know?”

“Because he has more than enough, and he doesn’t want to take it from you. He’s had enough money for long enough to know what power it holds. I think he wants you to have that power.”

“Sure, instead of him. That was the whole point, Jenna. Him or his partner or whoever has been giving me money instead of his time, and I can’t accept that exchange anymore. If he doesn’t want to be with me, then I don’t want to have anything to do with him or his money.”

“That pride is going to put you in the poorhouse.”

“My business is successful,” I countered. “People like my art. They like looking at it, and wearing it, and now that I’ve partnered with the ceramics company, they’re going to like drinking out of it. I have enough, and that’s all the money I need.”

“I’m just saying, if Mom gets herself a boyfriend—which I hope to God she does soon; that woman needs an outlet—you better make yourself scarce.”

“And if I don’t?”

Her eyes glittered dangerously. “Don’t tempt me, kid. I still have pull when it matters.”

I suppressed a shudder. Jenna had a brutally efficient way of getting things done, a way that I still didn’t fully understand. But if she thought that something needed to happen and it wasn’t happening, all she had to do was whisper in an ear here or there and, suddenly, everything would be going her way. She had some kind of inherent influence which I frequently thought was an unfair advantage in her line of work.

“Do you ever make news happen when there isn’t any?” I asked her grumpily.

“Haven’t yet, but I could if I wanted to and you know it. So don’t push me. The second Mom decides to break out of her comfort zone of drudgery, you will get out of her way.”

“All right, all right,” I sighed, glancing at the sky.

Afternoon had turned to evening as we argued, and the sky was now ablaze with color, meaning the twins would be hungry soon. With much objection from Vincent and weaker echoes from Frida, we bundled them into their side-by-side stroller and headed home.

“You gave him the money a week ago, right?” she asked, flipping through the calendar on her phone.

“Yep.”

“Okay, so just under three months from now, the check will be invalid—whether he tries to cash it or not. Three months, Shelley. If he hasn’t deposited the money by then, you’re going to use it to get yourself independent.”

I sighed, but said nothing. It didn’t really matter if I agreed to her terms or not; if that was what she thought needed to happen, then it would probably happen. I wasn’t banking on it, though. As far as I was concerned, that money was Miles’. He probably just hadn’t gotten around to depositing it yet; he seemed to have trouble fitting extra things into his life. Like me, for example. Or his kids.

“Resentment is going to eat me alive if I let it,” I confessed quietly. “I don’t want to resent him. I just want to get over him.”

“That’s what I want to hear. You know the fastest way to get over somebody, right?” She shot me a wicked grin.

“I’m not getting under somebody else, Jenna,” I sighed. “I’ve got too much at stake to be playing around right now.”

“Yeah,” she admitted, running a hand through Frida’s curls. “They’re more important than playing hide the pickle or whatever it is you do. But not more important than your mental health. Actually, your mental health is kind of necessary for their mental health, so it’s all part of the same package. What I’m saying, Shelley, is that you need to take care of you. Okay?”

“Yes, Mother,” I teased as we reached Mom’s place. “Do you want to stick around for dinner?”

“I’d love to, but I won’t. I’ve got a hot date tonight.”

“Oh? One of your repressed librarian types?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m taking a break from them. Too much drama. This one’s a high-powered TV exec with plans to run her own talk show. She’s all glossy and meticulous with just enough bitchiness to keep things interesting. I’m excited to see how this one plays out.”

“She sounds like trouble,” I laughed. “Good luck!”

“Thanks,” Jenna said with a grin. “Good luck with all of your stuff, too. I hope it works out the way you want it to.”

“At this point, I really doubt it,” I sighed. “He’s had all week. I’m pretty sure he’s made his choice.”

“Well…we’ll see. Some people process things more slowly than others. Either way, you’ll be fine, Shel. You’re stronger than I give you credit for.”

With that, Jenna kissed the twins and hugged me, then waved to Mom, who was pruning the hedges in the front yard.

I noticed the little extra bit of energy that Mom used to slice through the stray twigs, and a twist of guilt curled in my chest. Jenna was right. Mom was completely stifled here. She needed an outlet. Maybe the twins and I were getting in her way.

Bath time was chaos as always, with Vincent splashing water everywhere and Frida screaming at him to stop.

“I should really wash you one at a time,” I sighed as Vincent dove forward, sending a tidal wave crashing over the side of the tub. “But who has that kind of time?”

I kept them in there just long enough to get the dirt off, then rescued Frida from Vincent’s enthusiastic bubble popping. She shouted nonsense at him until her little face turned red as I dried her off, but was calm again by the time I had her zipped into her onesie.

“Hun-gy,” she told me with big, serious eyes as she patted her little round tummy.

“All right, honey, it’s almost dinner time. Just have to get your brother—oh, Vincent!” He had splashed water over me and Frida, soaking her jammies and my pants.

I pulled him out with a sigh and rubbed him down with a towel as he giggled maniacally, then hustled them to the bedroom to get fresh clothes. Both were screaming for dinner by the time I got my own clothes changed, and I hurried downstairs, wondering what I could make fast enough to avoid a meltdown.

“Who wants macaroni?” Mom sang as we entered the kitchen.

“Me! Me!”

“Ah! Ah!”

“Thank you,” I told her, relieved.

“No problem. I’m on top of it.” She grinned at me, but I thought I caught a shadow of something else in her eye.

Jenna’s words had wriggled into my brain and were playing games with my perceptions, I decided firmly. Mom was fine. She was enjoying herself. But as she set plates in front of me and the kids, I was watching her a little more closely. There was definitely more exhaustion around her mouth than there used to be, and her eyes had lost some of their sparkle.

“Are we too much for you?” I asked impulsively as I spooned a bite into Vincent’s mouth.

“What do you mean?” she asked as she did the same for Frida.

“I mean…would you be better off if I were living somewhere else?”

She gave me a disappointed look and sighed. “You’ve been talking to Jenna.”

Surprised, I tilted my head. “Has she been saying the same thing to you?”

She shrugged.

“It’s all been in a similar vein. ‘When are you going to start dating again, Mom? When are you going to start living again, Mom?’ I mean, it’s not like I’m dead. I enjoy my life, and I enjoy you guys, and there’s nothing more important to me than making sure that you—all four of you—are happy and taken care of. Jenna can take care of herself for the most part, but if some woman ever broke her heart, you know I would be all over that. I’m not suffering, Shelley, so put that out of your head right now.”

“All right,” I said slowly, but I didn’t quite believe her.

She looked as if she were about to say something else, but the doorbell interrupted her before she could get it out. “I’ll get it,” she said quickly, and moved to the door.

I took a spoon in each hand to feed both kids at once, which was a bit of a challenge as Frida preferred to finish one kind of food at a time and Vincent preferred to work his way around the plate, alternating apple sauce with peas and macaroni.

“Who was it?” I called out when I heard the door close.

She didn’t answer, but slowly walked into the room carrying a huge bouquet of flowers. She was frowning at the card, flipping it back and forth in her hand.

“They’re for you,” she said hesitantly. “From Miles. What do you want me to do with them?”

Set them on fire. Tear them to shreds. Dump them in the trash. I blew out a heavy breath and deliberately relaxed my shoulders.

“Put them in water, please. Can I see the card?”

She handed it to me, and I gave Frida’s spoon to her, and Vincent’s to him. Vincent’s was immediately redirected to the floor as he gleefully buried his fingers in his macaroni. Frida’s followed shortly after, when she couldn’t manage to get a pea on it. I missed both of these, as the words on the card had arrested my attention and filled my mind with hundreds of questions.

Shelley,

Please meet me at the following address as soon as you possibly can. I’ll be waiting.

Miles

“This is a Monterey address,” I said, frowning at it.

“I saw that. Pebble Beach area,” Mom said hesitantly. “What do you think he wants?”

“I have no idea,” I said, searching the card for clues that weren’t there. “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”