Page 60 of Don't Puck Him

He smacks my head playfully. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

I chuckle.

“Anyway, eventually… I grew to like that something in the world could remain sweet. Despite all the hardships she went through.”

I realize this is what Cash and I have in common and what draws me to her. She's surrounded by bad actors. But I want to protect her in a world that wants to see her come undone.

And now I know for sure that my best friend and I are finally on the same side, the right side when it comes to Wren. I pull out an unopened bottle of Jameson from the back seat and hand it to him.

“No glasses, but we can still drink on it, right?”

“You always have a random bottle of something stashed away in here,” he says with a rueful smile. He clutches the bottleneck and turns the lid open.

“I’m always prepared for a toast, you mean.”

“What are we drinking to?”

“Reconciliation, to start,” I say.

“Between you and I?”

I nod. I can finally accept the part he will inevitably play in Wren’s life. And I’m okay with it. I of all people should understand what a lack of supportive family can do.

He gobbles back a few gulps of whisky and hands me the bottle. I swallow a few sips and wipe my mouth.

“I stopped trusting you these past few weeks and perhaps we should also drink to being back on the same page once again.” I pass him the bottle.

He chugs down more, and I have to grab it from him.

“Don’t be a party pooper,” he whines good naturedly.

“Consider this party officially over. Let’s go inside. I’m sure the girls are worried about us.”

I throw the half empty bottle back under the backseat. We head back in. I walk inside knowing we’re finally a united front and will take down anymore of her adversaries.

31

WREN

After finally feeling like I’ve truly bonded and made my peace with Cash, which buoys me, I decide to return to the mansion once more. This time, to confront my mother. The Queen Bee of this domestic mess.

The trip to the estate is as harrowing and upsetting as the last time. I can see the beauty in the mansion’s ornate stonework, the gently swerving drive, and in the verdant lawns and awe-inspiring flower beds, which seemingly go on forever. It is a wonderful, beautiful place with inhabitants that are anything but.

I visit midday on a Tuesday. I know David won’t be there, and it’s the housekeeper’s day off. The huge knotty pine and wrought-iron wooden door smoothly opens. The one thing you can count on with the filthy rich – nothing disturbing will make a sound.

I call out. “Mother! Mother!” No one answers.

I leave the marble foyer and traipse through the many rooms. The front lounge, David's office, Mother’s study. I even head upstairs to the master bedroom. She’s nowhere in sight.

I walk up to the picture window, look down, and see mother sunbathing in the glassed-in pool room. Her shades are on, and she’s reclining in contended majesty as a blustery fall day in New England rips the amber and ochre leaves off the trees.

I mutter under my breath at the sight. “Freakin’ figures. Even Mother Nature can’t ruffle this woman.”

I make my way to the pool. Although it’s been months now since Mother and I have moved in, I still feel like I need a GPS scanner to find my way around this mighty labyrinth of quartz, marble and fieldstone. I know I’m getting close when the air turns more humid. I take off my coat. I’ll get sweaty enough being in Her Majesty’s presence.

“Hello, Mom.”

She raises up and drops her shades. “Darling! Such a surprise. Come in, come in. You know, your bathing suit is still hanging on the washroom hook. You look flustered. Have a swim.”

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