Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 132834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
“I’m on it,” I said, unplugging the vacuum and lifting it, following them up the narrow stairs at a distance, just in case they lost their grip on the heavy dresser. Behind me, I heard Griffen say, “I thought you were working in the office today.”
That must have been directed at Hope. She answered with a laugh. “Griffen, seriously. I’m not sitting in the office while everyone else is here having fun. Do you know how long Parker and I have been working on this?”
“Buttercup,” I heard him cajole. “You know you shouldn’t be . . .””
The rest of his words faded out as I reached the top of the stairs. I loved that he still called her Buttercup. I remembered him calling her that when I was Nicky’s age, a lifetime ago.
Billy and Bob set the dresser against the wall, shooting me twin raised eyebrows to confirm it was in the right place. Pretty sure that it was, I nodded. “There’s good, I think. If not, Parker will let us know,” I said with a shrug, pushing the vacuum over the deep green and gold Berber rug that covered most of my new bedroom floor.
They both laughed. “Never thought little Parker would turn out so bossy,” Billy said.
“She’s done a great job on this place,” Bob added. “She’s already got us working on the gatehouse. Looks like that’ll be just as nice as your cottage.”
I had no doubt it would.
“Be back in a few with the bed,” Billy added as they jogged down the stairs.
The noise of the vacuum almost drowned out the chime from my phone. A text message. Lydia again. I didn’t want to read it. It had been over a week since I’d last heard from her. I still hadn’t replied to her last message. Ignoring her continued to be my favorite approach. No part of me wanted to invite Lydia back into our lives.
I wished we could have bonded in our shared grief over losing Oliver. We could have come together, helped each other get through it. But she’d been so eager to throw blame at me, giving none to her perfect, angelic son. And once she started making noises about taking Nicky and me being an unfit mother, I’d lost interest in bonding over anything.
Really, by the time Oliver died, I was tired of Lydia’s martyr act, tired of carrying her guilt for her. I had enough pain, enough grief of my own. I couldn’t process hers as well. She’d sworn never to speak to me again, and I’d left. I didn’t know what had changed, but she was back, and ignoring her wasn’t making her go away.
She’s Nicky’s grandmother, I tried to remind myself, my finger hovering over my phone screen. All I could see was her name and the first line of the text.
Savannah, I really must insist
She really must insist what? Annoyed that she was intruding on my moving day, a day about family and love and everything good in my life, I stabbed my fingertip at the screen and opened the text message.
Chapter Twenty-Three
SAVANNAH
Savannah, I really must insist that we meet. I want to see Nicky. I deserve to see my grandson. If you can’t drive him here for Thanksgiving. I’ll come down and collect him. We’ll keep him for the week he has off school and return him at the end of the holiday. You’ve had him all this time. It’s my turn now.
My gut reaction was a big hell no. I wasn’t letting her take Nicky anywhere. First of all, he barely remembered her. She was as good as a stranger, and sending him off with her would scare him. On top of that, I didn’t trust her. I hadn’t for a long time. I just wasn’t sure that meant I had the right to keep Nicky from his grandmother.
Three dots appeared on the screen. That was the problem with reading text messages. Now she knew I was on my phone, a captive audience. I wished I’d ignored it, but ignoring her wasn’t working.
Hoping to preempt her, I typed,
I have a busy day today. I can’t talk about this right now. I’ll think about it and let you know.
I hit send, and the three dots on Lydia’s end disappeared. Maybe that would hold her for another day or two until I could think about how to handle this. It was becoming clear that Lydia wasn’t going to go away.
Finn and my mother had been right. I needed to talk to a lawyer. Back when Oliver had been alive, and just after he died, Lydia had made noises about going for custody, saying that Nicky deserved better than a single mother raising him. I’d been furious. I’d been raised by a single mother, the best mother on the planet, and I’d turned out just fine. Better than fine. Of all the doubts I had in life, being able to raise Nicky wasn’t one of them. No one was taking my son from me.