Page 47 of Reclaiming Izabel

“No. She preferred to rent space, to be her own boss without a lot of overhead.”

“And your father?”

Sadness tweaked my heart and I studied the bottom of my coffee mug. “He wasn’t in the picture. Ma loved with all her heart, but she kept falling for the wrong men.” I glanced at Gina. “She had a brief affair with my father who was a married man.”

“Ouch.”

“Yup. When she got pregnant, he wanted her to have an abortion. My mother was horrified, not only because she was Catholic, but that she could have fallen for such a man. The rose-colored glasses came off quickly, and she kicked him to the curb.”

Gina nodded as if filing the information away. “You got into an Ivy League school for college?”

“My mother was a proud woman. She never accepted a dime from my father, but she broke her wrist at an inopportune time when she’d made poor investments and she lost most of our savings.” I shook my head at the memory. “I was in my third year of high school and our house was under threat of foreclosure. She approached my father.”

“Have you ever met him?”

“He doesn’t want to meet me.” I shrugged. “I’ve long accepted it.”

“You know who he is, though?”

“Yes,” I sighed. “He’s from a political dynasty in the Midwest. Old money. His wife is old money too. Ma didn’t feel guilty about blackmailing him to get me into Cornell. She said it was years of child support and my father was running for governor.”

“Perfect timing.” Gina chuckled.

“It was.”

“She wasn’t afraid that your father could send someone to silence her? That was risky.”

My mother was a contrary woman. “She didn’t say it. But she believed my father truly loved her.”

“And when she asked for the money?”

“He didn’t think twice. I think it was because he loved my mother, but he loved his political career more.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Ma died a year after I graduated.”

“So she met Drake?”

Hearing his name spurred a wariness that changed the tone of our conversation from easy nostalgia to the purpose of this meeting.Well played, Doc G.

“Yes, she did, albeit only briefly. She had lung cancer. And no, she wasn’t a smoker. Her oncologist thought it was from her years of cleaning houses and the exposure to the chemicals.” My heart ached at my mother’s sacrifices. “The chemicals at the salon didn’t help either, but it was too late.”

“She loved what she was doing at the end, though, right?” Gina said.

“She did.” I puffed out a brave breath to keep from crying. “Anyway, I visited my mother’s gravesite the week after her burial, and there was a single white rose at the headstone.”

“You think it was from your father?”

“I know it was. Every year on the day of her death, there is one perfect rose.”

A contemplative pause hung between us.

“Hmm…” Gina steepled her fingers over her coffee cup. “You don’t seem to have abandonment fears or daddy issues. Your mother raised a strong, self-confident woman and, from what Drake told me, you handled his deployments well.”

“It wasn’t easy, but I knew what I signed up for when I married him.”

“I don’t need to remind you how tough it is for SEALs and their spouses to stay together,” Gina said dryly. She checked her watch. “I think we’ve talked enough for this morning. How about we take a break and take a walk on the grounds? It’s a gorgeous neighborhood.”

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