Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 93002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Sterling smiled back and said, “God, I hope not.” She held out her hand.
My mother ignored it and pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m Emily. It’s good to finally meet you,” she said. “I’m glad he brought you home.”
Sterling’s hands rose to tentatively pat my mother’s back. I didn’t think she’d been expecting the warm welcome. To be honest, neither had I. I wasn’t sure what to expect. It had been a long time since I’d brought a girl home to my mother. Not since high school. And never anyone like Sterling. Never the woman I loved.
My mother’s welcome for me was significantly less warm. She leaned in and wrapped her arms around me, giving me a tight, quick squeeze. “It’s good to have you home.” Letting me go, she stepped back. “Come in. We’ll have dinner soon,” she said, turning and leading us into the house. “Jerry’s out helping a neighbor with his fence. He’ll be back soon. Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Wine?”
“I’d love some tea,” Sterling said. “With the time change, I keep forgetting it’s almost my bedtime. I feel like we’ve been traveling for weeks. It’s hard to believe we were in Sawyers Bend this morning.”
My mother pulled out a teapot and a matching set of teacups that I recognized immediately as Jerry’s work.
“These are beautiful,” Sterling said, admiring the deep red glaze that faded to orange and then to a bright yellow at the lip of the mugs.
My mother smiled. “My husband Jerry made them. He’s an amazing potter.”
“Oh, that’s so cool. We have some wonderful potters at home. The area I live in attracts artists.” Sterling lifted the mug and studied the rich color of the glaze. “This is really gorgeous. I’d love to see more of his work.”
“Oh, we’ve got it all over the house,” my mother said, pride evident in her voice. “There’s some in a gallery in town, too. He still teaches classes now and then. It’s how we met.”
Sterling and my mother talked as my mother put together tea and filled a plate with my favorite ginger snaps. She might be angry with me, but she was still my mom. I sat at the table, silent, absorbing the awesome weirdness of my two favorite women getting along, happily chatting. I’d always thought they’d like each other. Had, in my most optimistic moments, dreamed about Sterling being welcomed in my mother’s kitchen, the two of them enjoying each other. But now, after the last year of solitude frozen out by both of them, it just felt surreal.
My mother poured tea and set our mugs in front of us, and then I recognized the look on her face. It was time to talk business. Mom Business. She raised one dark eyebrow, her sharp gaze moving from Sterling to me.
“Explain,” she said.
“Explain?” I asked, raising an eyebrow back.
“Don’t get smart with me, young man,” she said. “Explain why you’re still wasting your time chasing daydreams.”
“They aren’t daydreams, Mom,” I said. “Dad left behind a code—”
My mother smacked her palm on the table so hard that the plate with the cookies jumped. Ripples ran across the top of my tea, and my mom’s eyes went from sharp to stark with pain. My stomach twisted. I hated this part of it, hated that she’d never been able to hear a single word about my dad.
“Forrest,” she said, her voice tight, “I’ve barely talked to you for a year. I recognize that is mostly my fault. I was angry, maybe angrier than I have a right to be, considering that you’re an adult living your life. But I cannot understand why you would risk your career and the woman you told me you’d fallen in love with, chasing some fantasy of your father’s. There are no accounts filled with money. I don’t know what happened to all of it, but it’s gone. He didn’t leave us anything. He just left us.”
Her voice cut off with a choke, and she swallowed hard, blinking away the gathering moisture in her eyes.
“I’m not wasting my time,” I said evenly, trying to control my frustration. “And I don’t care if there isn’t any money. This isn’t about the money.” I looked to Sterling, for whom this was very much about the money. “If there isn’t any money, I’ll—”
Before I could finish, Sterling cut me off. “Shut it, Forrest. I don’t care about the money either.”
I saw in her eyes that she was telling the truth.
“Emily,” Sterling started gently, “I don’t know if there’s any money. We’ll find out, I hope, eventually. But I decoded the clue on the statue of Vitellius, and Forrest and I have been following all of the clues his father left. It isn’t daydreams. It’s important.” She looked at me, emotion heavy in her eyes. “He left this for Forrest. He wanted Forrest to do this. It’s not a waste of time, but I’m sorry that it makes you sad.”