Page 43 of The Distiller's Darling

Like her? God, she hoped so. The thought of him hopping on a plane back to Ireland tomorrow made her nauseated. They would still have their last few days together. After that … well. She shut down the thoughts she’d been letting creep through, little moments spent imagining them together later. Just as well. Getting attached was not part of the plan.

“Sounds good. I—” She was interrupted by the completely unexpected sound of her doorbell. “Iain! You’re not here, are you?” She was halfway to the door, a delighted smile on her face when he answered.

“No. Why?”

Her smile died as she opened the door. “I, um, I’m going to have to call you back.” Without another word, she hung up the phone and stared blankly at her visitor.

“Hello, darling,” said her mother. “Aren’t you going to invite me in? It’s rude to leave your mother on the doorstep.”

Naomi shoved her phone into her pocket, not sure which of the whirlwind of feelings blowing through her she should give in to. “Mom. Now isn’t really a good time.”

Judith Klein raised one elegant eyebrow and looked her daughter up and down. “Then why did you answer the door? You appear fully clothed, and it’s the middle of the day, so I assume you’re not up to anything inappropriate.”

“Mother!”

“For heaven’s sake, Naomi, you’re in your thirties. If you haven’t done anything inappropriate yet, you really should. Now let me in.” Her mother stepped forward, and Naomi moved backwards without thinking.

“But—”

Her mother closed the door and held out her purse. “Where shall I put this? I assume you don’t have a dedicated space in this … charming bungalow.”

“There’s a table right there.” Naomi got the words out through gritted teeth. She knew exactly what her mother meant by ’charming. It was the real estate definition, and it wasn’t flattering. She took the purse and resisted the urge to fling it roughly onto the table that rested against the stairs. Unfortunately, that would only break the bowl that sat there, a gorgeous piece she’d bought from a glass artist who lived down the road. Instead, she set the expensively logoed bag down gently and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before she turned back to her mother.

“What brings you here?”

Her mother examined her surroundings. “Do you have a place to sit down?”

Naomi sighed. “Come on in. The living room is this way.” The dining room had been converted to her office, but she’d furnished the cozy living room with a comfortable couch and a chair or two. She mostly used the space for watching ridiculous movies when she was feeling burnt out. Although she and Iain had done a few other things in there several days ago. Probably not something she should be thinking about as she watched her mother sit carefully down in the exact spot Iain had—never mind.

“So? You’re sitting. In my house. Which you’ve never visited before, let alone showed up unannounced to. Why are you here, Mom?”

“Oh, it isn’t just me, dear.” Her mother smiled at her beatifically. “Your father’s here, too. He’s just taking a little nap. You know how travel tires him.”

“You live less than two hours from here.”

“Yes, of course. It was certainly a drive. There were many interesting fields and farms.” Her mother’s tone conveyed her opinion about such things, and it wasn’t positive. “I left him at the cozy B&B we booked. So convenient that it had availability.”

Oh, no. “You’re staying? At a B&B?”

“Oh, yes. Even more charming than your little place here. I understand they’ve undergone some renovations recently.”

“Mom, are you staying at the Oakwell Inn?”

“Well of course, darling.”

“But that’s Noah’s—”

“Yes, I promised his mother a full report, of course.” Her own mother sniffed. “Angelica is a charming girl, although she seems quite busy.”

That explained why nobody had thought to warn Naomi about this ambush. Angelica was due to leave to film another segment of her popular show in a day or two. Possibly even tomorrow—Naomi wasn’t sure of the exact schedule. But Noah and Angelica would have been far too busy cooing over each other to even register this particular emergency. They probably thought Naomi had invited her parents to come.

“Why are you and Dad here? You never leave the city.”

“Darling, you didn’t answer your phone. I assumed you were dead. We came to identify your body.”

“You booked a B&B to identify my corpse?”

“Well, we certainly weren’t going to stay at a Holiday Inn.”

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