I haven’t heard from Emily, but I’m not about to start panicking. As a man with expertise in the domain that crosses the financial, analytical, and tech fields, I can relate to creative passion careers. That’s the space Emily’s in. Chefs aren’t the nine to five types. They live, breathe, sleep, and dream their passions.

I’m inclined to give her a pass for not replying the next day, and when a week pass, then two, and even a third.

But when Diane walks into the offices of Knights Capital where I work and barges into my office in a huff, her line of questioning landing on Emily Fields, I’m all the more tempted to check in on her.

It goes without saying that my mother’s visit isn’t a social call. Our relationship isn’t strained. It really isn’t. We don’t fight, and we don’t argue. I don’t hold any resentment from anything she did or didn’t do during my childhood. And it’s for the same reason that I can give a woman like Emily all the space she’d ever need.

People who are overly passionate about their life’s work tend to absorb themselves in their careers.

This is Diane.

She was barely around during my formative years, and I was pretty stoked about her absence as a teenage boy looking for every opportunity to be free to roam on the one hand and to hide out in my room doing nerdy shit on the other. In that respect, Diane was the perfect parent.

Of course, if you found yourself needing her to talk to, for nurturing, to cook you a meal, to be maternal, or for advice, like my sister, Vanessa did, Diane would come up short. She was, is and forever will be sorely lacking in the homemaker department. But the law is her passion. Not parenting. And if you compared her to any ideal fictional TV parent, well, you’d probably come to the point of questioning why she chose to be a mother at all.

But the bottom line for me when Diane’s concerned is, I get it.

Passionate people who’ve found their raison d’etre in life tend to be aloof and self-absorbed. I’m passionate and self-aware, so I can relate to her. It’s also one of the reasons that from the outside, acquaintances would hold the belief that Diane and I get along. My friends know that I take Diane in the smallest possible doses. That way, when we do end up in the same room, there’s a level of relief. There’s an aspect of missing each other because we’re family and we rarely see each other. Even if the condo she lives in when she or my dad sleeps in the city is only five floors below the one I own and live in full time.

But today, by showing up in my office unexpected, with a question about Emily, she’s surpassed our allotted quota of visits.

“Good afternoon, son,” Diane greets me. She sets down her purse on the black leather sofa in the middle of my office.

“Mom, hi.” I pull my glasses off my face and head over to her, exchanging one of her air kisses. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“You look well.” She sits beside her purse and crosses her legs. To me, that means this is not a quick visit. “How’s work, darling?”

“The usual. You know how it is?”

“That I do. Have a seat, Dylan. I’ll make this quick.”

I sit in the leather armchair facing her. “Is everything all right?”

“Of course. I was a few floors up for another meeting with a client, and thought I’d check up on you. Your father and I haven’t seen you since the gala. We’re having a little get together at the condo on Friday after work. Mostly with the partners and staff, as well as our top clients. I’d like you and your sister to join us.”

I have no doubt that my sister, Vanessa won’t attend. Neither will I.

“Thanks for the invite. Things are pretty busy around here, though. I may end up working late.”

“Do try, darling. You’re more than welcome to bring a date.”

Yeah. Right. Although, her gaze intensifies after she mentions the word date. Is she studying my reaction? Her behavior is strange on so many levels. She’s given me more attention in the last five minutes than I’ve had from her in as many years.

I push off from my seat and saunter over to my desk. Shuffling a few papers I was working on, I find my phone, which I pick up and slide into my pocket. “I need to get to a meeting, Mom. Can we leave it open?”

“Sure, dear. Keep me posted.” She gets to her feet and comes over to me, giving me a real kiss on the check this time. “Don’t work too hard.”

“I’ll try.”

As she sets off to head out, she pivots around at the last second. “Oh, I meant to ask. By any chance are you friends with an Emily Fields? She’s an up and coming chef working under Chef Blair. I hired her that night at the gala, and got the sense that you two might know each other.”

“Sure, I know her,” I say, letting on as little as possible. “What’s this about?”

“Nothing really. She’ll be doing a fair bit of catering for me. You know I prefer for there to be sufficient…professional distance between our family and our service providers.”

“Mother, I’m sure you can imagine how small this town really is. If I were to keep a professional distance, as you call it, from everyone associated with your law firm, or here at Knight’s Capital, or with the host of businesses our clients own, there’d be no one left.”

“Well, do give it some thought, darling. Your father and I are looking forward to seeing you there. Enjoy your day.”

I see why she’s here. She wants to tell me in her own unique way to keep my hands off Emily. That’s not gonna happen.

The pertinent question I’m left with is how did she connect the dots between Emily and me? And does that reason explain why I haven’t heard a thing from Emily? Now I really want to reach out.