Page 58 of Half Baked

He was saying everything I wanted to hear, but I was still feeling cautious. “I don’t know if I’m ready. Especially right now after what happened with your mom and the fact we’re investigating my mom’s murder… That’s important to me, Noah. I’m finally getting answers.” I paused. “I need more time.”

“Then you have it,” he said emphatically. “You’re calling the shots right now. Just tell me what you need, and it’s yours. I’m yours.”

I hoped I could count on that.

ChapterFifteen

Maddie

Mallory was up by the time I headed downstairs with Aunt Deidre in the morning. She usually took full advantage of her working-from-home uniform (sweats and a T-shirt) and the commute (thirty-seven seconds from the coffee pot—she’d timed it), which meant she typically got up about eight-forty, early enough to take care of some basic personal hygiene, grab a cup of coffee, and turn on her computer.

But this morning, she was up and sitting at the kitchen table at seven-thirty. Her brow rose as she took in my aunt, then turned to me. “Is it a good day?”

I knew what she was asking—was Aunt Deidre lucid? My aunt shuffled to the coffee pot as she scolded, “Every day is a good day if you’re determined enough.”

That was something I’d heard her say since I was a kid. I shrugged, meaning we could ask questions, but we might or might not get answers.

I’d been tempted to ask Aunt Deidre questions on my own as I helped her go to the restroom and get dressed. While she was confused about the season and had wanted to wear a pair of capris and a short-sleeved shirt so she could garden, she knew who I was and that I needed to go to work as soon as Linda arrived.

“Aunt Deidre,” Mallory said as the older woman sat in front of her with her cup of coffee. “I wanted to ask you some questions about Maddie when she was little.”

My aunt’s brow furrowed. “Who?”

“Maddie,” Mallory said, undeterred. “Andrea’s daughter.”

Aunt Deidre’s face lit up. “Andrea? Is she coming over today?”

My heart constricted as I pulled a carton of eggs from the refrigerator. I should be used to her memory loss by now, but sometimes it shaved off a larger piece of my heart than usual.

“No,” Mallory said. “Andrea can’t come today, but she wants Maddie to stay with you. Is that okay?”

I gave Mallory a sharp look as I pulled an egg from the carton. I hated to confuse her this way, and Mallory knew it.

But Mallory ignored me, giving my aunt her full attention.

“Sweet little Maddie,” Aunt Deidre said in a dreamy tone, then sharpened her gaze on Mallory. “Where’s Andrea going?”

“I’m not sure,” Mallory said. “Do you think she’s going to see her boyfriend?”

I dropped an egg on the floor and started to tell Mallory to stop right now, but my aunt said, “Oh dear. She’s seeing him again?”

My stomach dropped faster than the egg had. Why had I expected my mother to turn into the Virgin Mary after Tony left? Why did it feel like a betrayal that someone other than me had captured her heart?

“Who?” Mallory asked without missing a beat. “Do you mean Tony?”

“Tony?” my aunt scoffed. “She’d never sleep with Tony again. Not after she caught him cheating on her right after Maddie was born.”

My father had cheated on my mom after I was born? I wasn’t sure why I found that surprising. He’d left and never wanted anything to do with either one of us.

“Then who?” Mallory asked.

Aunt Deidre’s mouth shifted to the side. “What is his name?”

“That’s okay,” Mallory cajoled sweetly. She’d been around my aunt long enough now to know she sometimes got frustrated when she couldn’t remember something. “Take your time. Do you know where Andrea and her boyfriend might be going?”

Deidre’s eyes narrowed. “To that bar in Chattanooga. I thought she’d burned the wild out of her when Maddie was born, but when the girl was three, Andrea said she may be a mother, but she wasn’t dead. Twenty-six was plenty young enough that she should still be out having fun. She said lots of women weren’t tied down at her age, and she hadn’t planned on motherhood. It was so hurtful, especially when she knew how badly I wanted a child of my own.”

“I’m sorry,” Mallory said, reaching over and putting her hand on my aunt’s.

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