Page 118 of Broken on the Mountain
We cross the deck together, and I'm acutely aware of every eye that follows us. The town knows about the gala disaster, about my mother's lifetime of disapproval, about the choice I made to stay in Stone River.
"Mom." I stop a few feet away, chin up, shoulders back. Old habits truly do die hard. "I didn't know you were coming."
"That's because you didn't invite me." Her voice is cool, measured, but still slices through every ounce of personal growth and strength I've built these last three months. "So I invited myself."
"Clearly."
For a long moment, we just stare at each other. Then, to my absolute shock, her mouth curves into something that might—might—be a smile.
"That was impressive," she says. "What you just did with that woman. Very... competent, Piper."
It might just be the closest thing to a compliment I've gotten from her since I graduated kindergarten without eating paste.
"Thank you."
Her gaze shifts to Chase, and I brace for impact. But instead of the disdain I expect, there's something almost curious in her expression.
"Mr. Morrison."
"Mrs. Whitman." Chase's voice is polite as he bows like she's royalty. "Nice to see you again."
"Is it?" She arches one perfectly sculpted brow. "I seem to recall our last encounter involved you stealing my daughter atmycharity gala."
"Technically, she came willingly. There was no stealing."
"Technically," my mother agrees, and is thatamusementin her tone? "And how has Stone River been treating you both?"
I can only blink in astonishment. This is not the conversation I expected.
Is she… making… small talk?!
"It's been... good," I say carefully. "Really good, actually. I'm working, helping with community outreach, and tonight's fundraiser has already exceeded our goals."
"So I see." She glances at the donor board. "Forty-two thousand dollars. Impressive for a town this size."
"Piper did most of it," Chase adds. "She's got a gift for this stuff."
My mother's gaze returns to me, and for the first time in my life, I see something that looks suspiciously like... respect?
"I can see that." She takes a breath, and when she speaks again, her voice is softer. "I miss you, Piper."
I blink. Twice.
Is this a trap? Did she hit her head on the ice sculpture? Should I call a doctor?!
"I... what?"
"I miss you," she repeats. "Your father asks about you constantly. And I..." She pauses, as if the admission costs her something. "I realize I may have been... less than supportive of your choices."
Lady, you’ve spent thirty years treating me like a limited-edition handbag. Now you’re clingy and considering your choices?!
"Less than supportive?" I echo, incredulous. "Mother, you called Chase a caveman and tried to force me into a marriage with Maxwell Pemberton."
"Yes, well." She has the grace to look slightly abashed. "Maxwell turned out to be rather dull. You dodged a bullet there."
Chase makes a choking sound then disguises it by watching a bird flying in the sky. It would be effective, exceptit's dark.
"I'll make more of an effort," my mother continues. "To visit. To... understand this life you've chosen. Your father and I are planning a trip next month, if you'll have us."
