Page 38 of Mason Wilder
“You’re birth mother?” Tessa’s eyes were as wide as saucers.
“I’m as surprised as you are.” While Mason paraphrased the entire conversation he had with Kendall, Tessa had been silently staring at him, eyes growing wider with disbelief with each sentence.
“Are you OK?” Tessa cupped Mason’s face in her hands. “You must be so upset.”
Mason didn’t know if he was OK or not. His head was in a daze, and he felt pulled in two different directions. One part of him thought it would be nice to have a relationship with Kendall. The other still didn’t trust her. There were too many gaps in her story. Too many lost years void of content. He had no idea why she thought everyone hated her and talked badly about her. No one ever said a word about her, good or bad.
“Sit down.” Tessa guided him to the couch. “I’ll get you a glass of pomegranate iced tea.”
Mason sat back against the couch cushion and stared across the room. He tried to recall memories of Kendall, but the only images that played in his head were of Aunt Mary. She’s the one who bathed him and dressed him. Took him to the playground. Memories of Kendall were always fleeting glimpses of her running out of the house. It reminded him of how much he missed Aunt Mary, and his chest hurt from grief. He always viewed her as a grandmother, but, now, he realized that when he was a baby she was like a mother to him. Emotion tightened his throat, and he teared up.
“Mason . . .” Tessa knelt next to him and put her hand on his knee. “What’s wrong?”
He wiped his eyes. The pain was still so fresh and raw it oozed out of him. “Nothing. I . . . I was just thinking about Aunt Mary.”
Tessa’s eyes watered and her mouth bowed into a frown. “I’m sorry, Mase. I miss her, too.” She offered him the glass. “Here. Drink this. I put a little Southern Comfort in it.”
He gave her a sad smile. It was all he could muster. “Thanks. I need it.” He took a long sip and welcomed the splash of alcohol. “It’s such bad timing. I know she came back because of Aunt Mary’s funeral, but I wish she would have waited. My head’s not clear. I can’t think straight.”
Tessa, always there to ease and comfort someone’s troubled heart, moved into the seat next to him and ran her hand up and down his back. “How do you feel about what she said?”
“I feel like she’s hiding something. Like everybody is hiding something. Why doesn’t anyone ever talk about her? Why does she think everyone hates her?”
Tessa shook her head. “Maybe because she wasn’t around. Or, they had nothing to say about her.”
He believed that there were ill feelings between Kendall and his parents and the rest of the Immortal Angel family. She admitted that she was selfish and self-absorbed back then and she probably did things she regretted. The real question is, has she changed? He didn’t know the answer, but he needed to find out.
Kendall already sat at the manicured table when Mason entered Le Bernardin on West 51stStreet. He had slept fitfully the night before and dreamed that she never showed up at the restaurant for brunch. But she was here. Nerves tickled his belly as he approached, and she rose to greet him. She had shed yesterday’s black ensemble, and it was replaced by a pale peach sheath that fell just above her knee. A twist at the back of her neck held her hair in a sophisticated up-do. She was chic, and her fashion surprised him.
He could tell Kendell wanted to give him a hug or perhaps kiss his cheek, but she hesitated, and he didn’t feel comfortable offering affection. He was still making his mind up about her, which is why he didn’t tell his dad yet that he’d been in contact with her.
“Thank you for meeting me, Mason.” She looked past him. “You didn’t bring your girlfriend? I was looking forward to meeting her.”
“No. I thought it best if we just take it slow.” He slid into the chair, awkwardness creeping up his back.
“Oh.” Disappointment made her smile disappear, but she nodded as if she understood. “I hope you like French cuisine. I don’t get to eat at many fabulous restaurants in London. Not like in New York City. I’d have to fly to Paris in order to dine on French cuisine of this caliber.” She looked around the place, eyes bright. “I never could have afforded to eat at someplace this elite when I lived in the States. Nor would I have appreciated it. I had no culture back then.”
“So what do you do?” She obviously had money by her refined appearance and choice of restaurant.
She paused to fill her glass with water from a large bottle of Evian on the table. “I married money. I know it sounds shallow, but Edward is a good man and he loves me.”
“Do I have any brothers or sisters?”
“No.” She smiled as if it were absurd. “I didn’t have any more children. What about Jimmy and Audra?”
She really hadn’t bothered to find out any information about him at all. Details about his family were all over the internet. His dad’s fame, his mom’s role at Falcon Records, his own career as a musician, even Michael’s aptitude as a whiz kid and winner of the National Science Fair was readily available with a few clicks of the keyboard.
“I know what you’re thinking.” She pressed her fingers along the crease of her napkin. “I know I could have kept up to date on your life, but I don’t pay attention to entertainment news, and I’m not the type to snoop online. I’ve done that in the past, and I didn’t handle it well. It kept sucking me in and I needed to move on. I needed to forget about those people.”
She kept using the words “everyone,” “them” and “those people” as if there was some kind of feud going on with her on one side, and his parents and the Immortal Angel family on the other. But Mason wondered if it was a diversion and what she actually meant was that she was still hung up on his dad.
A waiter stopped at their table and handed them menus. “Bienvenue à Le Bernardin. Welcome to Le Bernardin. May I suggest you start with a mimosa made with Nicolas Feuillatte Brut and freshly-squeezed orange juice?”
Kendall held up her hand. “No alcohol for me, thank you. Just another bottle of Evian, s’il vous plait. Mason, please feel free to order a mimosa or whatever you fancy. You don’t have to pass up alcohol on my account.”
He shook his head at the waiter. “Nah. I’ll stick with water, as well.”
The waiter nodded and walked away with the promise of returning to take their order shortly.
