Page 85 of SNOB

“It’s so nice to finally talk to you.”

“First thing’s first.” She holds up a finger, dropping the magazine on the table. “I will not answer questions about why I left. I will not answer questions about your father. I’m doing this as a favour.” She pauses, sipping her wine as my shoulders fall. “Oh, don’t be so sad. I’m here, aren’t I?”

It’s hard not to stare at her as she adjusts the beige shawl over her shoulders. While she’s older than the photo in my locket, she’s still stunning. The crow's feet in her eyes and the small lines on her face take nothing from her beauty. It’s clear where I get my button nose and wide lips from. And it’s very clear her side of the family gave me this head of red hair. That I always knew.

“What?” she asks, shaking me out of my gaze.

“I just can’t believe you’ve been here the entire time.” The words fall out before I have a chance to think.

“Not exactly,” she says. “I returned for a short period for work. Then I bumped into your art. It’s gotten better. Congrats.” She speaks to me like she’s in a business meeting. Cold. Disinterested.

“Can I ask you something?” The waiter comes by for my order but I’m too interested in this woman in front of me. She looks like my mother, but she doesn’t act like it.

“Depends,” she responds, shooing the waiter away.

“If you didn't buy my art at Mac’s house, would you ever find me?” My heart pounds, anticipating her response.

“Mac?” Her eyes narrow in the same way mine do when I’m confused. “Oh,” she chuckles Even her laugh is like mine. Low and throaty. “Malcolm. That boy has a future. He's been asking about the league and if he has a chance to make the team.”

Wait. “He didn’t talk about me?”

“A little. That’s why I’m here. Outside of hockey, he mentioned he wouldn’t tell anyone we’re related if I at least sat with you for dinner.”

My chest threatens to cave in on my heart. “So you didn’t want to meet me?”

She blinks. “Are you hungry? Dinner is on me.”

But I’ve lost my appetite. “You know I never knew what happened to you. You didn’t even come back when Dad died.”

“I thought it was clear we would not discuss your father.”

“I grew up in a trailer.”

“I’m sorry your father couldn’t provide.”

My fist tightens, banging on the table. “Neither could you! Why did you have me? Why did you leave?”

Cara looks around her. “You’re making a scene. Can you please not be so dramatic? You get that from him.”

Looking around, she’s right. Everyone on this side of the lounge stares at us and I’m already the talk of the town. “I—I should go.”

“Suit yourself.”

Pushing from my seat, she doesn’t fight for me to stay. Hell, she doesn’t even ask me to. My legs wobble on the way to the door, the room tilting around me. My throat tightens the more our convo spins in my head as I rush the doors.

When the outside air hits my face, I’m finally able to take a breath. My hand comes to the locket around my neck. Pulling it off, I open it, staring at the woman I longed to sit across from. My nose tickles, my eyes blurring. My eyes move to Dad’s picture. Did he know she was like this? Why didn’t he tell me?

“Oh good, just the person I want to see.” Hannah’s voice comes from my left. It's the last voice I want to hear right now.

My eyes move to her, and what I see in her hand makes me drop my locket to the ground.

Beau’s phone.

TWENTY-FIVE

EMBER

“How did you get that?”

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