Page 75 of Close to My Heart

“Best time of my life,” Wes said.

I wondered if he was telling the truth, or he was playing a part?

Grandma nodded. “Go enjoy the party. I have more guests to greet, and I think your mother wanted to speak to you.”

I frowned. “She didn’t say anything when we came in.”

“Let’s go find her and get it over with,” Wes said, steering me to the entrance where Mom stood at the door greeting the guests.

I approached my mother. “Grandmother said you had something you wanted to discuss with me?”

“I need to speak with you, not your husband,” Mom said your husband with a sneer.

“I’ll get a drink at the bar,” Wes bowed out before I could tell him whatever Mom had to say, she could say it in front of him.

Mom led me into a room nearby that was closed off when guests were in the house.

“What’s going on?” I asked as I sat gingerly on the settee. I didn’t want to be here. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like what she had to say.

Mom’s face was pinched as she wandered over to the piano and set a hand on it. “I don’t like him for you.”

My eyes widened. “Wes?”

Mom smoothed her skirts. “He’s beneath your station.”

“You know I don’t care about stuff like that.” I didn’t think it was a thing anyway. I didn’t look down on people because they weren’t raised on an estate and didn’t come from money. I loved Wes because he was so different from me.

Mom’s eyes widened. “He drives a truck to family events.”

I stood to go. “If that’s all you have to say about Wes?—”

Mom held her hand up. “It’s not just that. Your father and I think?—”

I braced myself for whatever she had to say. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be good.

“It would be better to sell this place. Then you can move and do whatever you want with your life. You’ll finally be free.”

She was the one who wanted to be free. Had she stuck around, waiting for grandma to die so Dad could inherit and they could move somewhere else? Maybe travel the world? For a second, sympathy for her situation flowed through me, but then I remembered she could have worked and made that a reality for herself.

“I want to hold tours, share the history of the house with everyone.” Ideally, I wanted to work with a contractor and return the house to its original state, paint color and all. I wasn’t sure it was possible, but I’d read about another house where they’d done something similar. “I have the blog, and it’s gaining a lot of interest and followers.”

“Social media followers? Rosesmiths don’t make money online.” Mom waved her hand. “If you sell, you can do whatever you want. You don’t have to resort to filming yourself and posting it on social media. You can find a charity you want to help with, maybe the historical society if that’s what interests you.”

“It’s this house and our family that interests me. I want to sort through the history, maybe write a book about it.” I was fascinated with our family and wanted to memorialize it somehow, and I knew the limits of keeping the house as a museum. But at some point, my heirs may want to sell, just like Mom wanted to.

Mom shook her head. “I don’t understand your fascination with this house. It’s just stone and paint.”

“They don’t make houses like this anymore. If you sell it, you know it will be demolished, and a housing development will go up in its place. We need to preserve places like this.” I saw the look of awe on visitors’ faces when they came through the building. This wasn’t something they saw every day.

“But you want your father and me to move out and live on the street. We’ll have no money. We’ve never worked. We have no skills.”

I frowned at her gross mischaracterization of the truth. “You’ll still inherit money in the will. If you invest wisely, you should be fine.”

Mom’s lip curled. “I want to be better than fine, and this house represents my future.”

“I have to disagree. Grandmother wouldn’t be allowing me to inherit if she didn’t think my plan was solid.”

Mom waited a beat, her hard gaze meeting mine. “You can only inherit if your marriage is real.”

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