Page 18 of The Candlemaker

Her smile grew. “She loves those on a nice day like today.”

Perfect.I firmed my lips and nodded. “How is she today?”

Her smile held, but her eyes changed. And not for the better. “Quiet,” she answered, and then gathered some enthusiasm in her tone. “But she’ll be happy to see you, Mr. Collins. Very happy.”

Me? Or my asshole father?

I followed Cathy up to the second floor, listening to her give me all the updates to the estate since I’d been there last.Had it really been almost four months?Guilt filled each step down the hall toMom’s room. Her suite was all the way at the end, giving her windows on two sides of her room with views of the forest and lake.

I hadn’t just sold this estate to Chip and Dianne; I’d invested in it, too. The new porch this year. The restored fireplace in the common area last year. The community garden the year before. The French chef before that.

I’d paid for it all—and I’d pay for more if it made Mom’s time here better. Happier.Fuller.

Because if she couldn’t remember the past, all she had was now.

“Let me know if you need anything.” Cathy patted my shoulder again, leaving me at Mom’s door.

I drew a deep breath, holding the candle a little tighter as I knocked.

“Mom?” I paused. “It’s me. Chandler.” My jaws clamped together, locking my breath tight in my chest.

The door swung open, Mom’s wide smile greeting me. “Oh, Chandler. It’s so good to see you, honey.”

Relief swamped me.She remembered.It was a good day.

I bent down to hug her, thinking that she had to have gotten a little shorter in the last four months.And skinnier.Her loose, pale purple blouse hid her thinning frame, and I felt the blade of her shoulders against my hand.“Good to see you, too, Mom.” I held her close and breathed deep, able to pretend for a second that this was how it always was.

“Well, come in.”

Even her hand felt more fragile as she took mine and guided me through the door into aroom covered in lilac and butterflies. Mom loved butterflies. Every bare wall held at least one frame containing either a butterfly photo, piece of artwork, or preserved butterfly specimen—the monarch was her favorite.The spacious sitting area housed two loveseats on one side with a small table between them, usually covered with photographs, but it was empty today. I looked at the cabinet along the wall and found the photographs stacked on top of it, and my brow creased.Were they being cleaned? Did she want them changed?I’d have to ask Cathy.

On the right side of the room were two doors, one to a powder room, the other to Mom’s bedroom and bath.

Mom ushered me to one of the couches. “So, come sit and tell me, how are you? How is school going?”

School.

I stilled, feeling the lightness in my chest deflate.She thought I was visiting from college.

I forced myself to swallow and smile. “I’m good, Mom. Keeping busy.” I never knew what to do in these situations. Did I try to correct her, knowing it would be futile? Or was it worse to go along with something that wasn’t the truth? “How are you doing? What’s new with you?”

“Oh, I’m wonderful, honey. The company here is excellent, and the food is superb.” Well, at least I’d done something right. “I always tell Cathy that I’d live here forever if I could.” Hereyes twinkled as she laughed, completely unaware that she was living here forever.

“I’m happy to hear that,” I said, my voice lowering.

Mom picked up her glass of water, taking a sip, and then walked over to the mirror on the wall, adjusting one of her white curls so it sat just right.

“Have you seen him lately?”

I stilled. “Who? Tom?”

She looked over her shoulders and chuckled. “Tom?” Her head shook. “No, Geoff, I’m talking aboutChandler.”

It was like a bucket of ice water over my head every time. Even now—after years of experiencing the muddiness of her memory—it was still like a wound ripped open.

I knew I looked like him. One didn’t have to see too many photos to see the resemblance. Hell, maybe I even sounded like him, though I was far less certain on that. But what I didn’t get was why would her mindwantto picture him? Why would her memory choose to put her back in those few good years they had together?

All questions I’d never get answers to.

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