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He stood up and walked from his mom’s living room into the kitchen. Her house was a two-bedroom bungalow, with a shed in her back garden that served as the studio for her painting. The living room was colorful, with walls painted in rich turquoise and wooden paneling that shone almost golden. The brightest paintings hung on the walls—white orchids, and hibiscus flowers with yellow and pink petals, and orange and blue birds of paradise. The house stood on a hill, and Konnor could see the ocean over the roofs.
As he entered the brightly lit kitchen, the scent of freshly ground coriander and fried chicken filled his nostrils. Mom set two plates with burgers on the kitchen island, carrot and celery-root fries on the side. Her tablet next to the plates.
She flashed a nervous smile, though her blue eyes sparkled. Konnor’s stomach twisted in a nervous knot.
“Sit, sit,” she said. “I went to a cooking class on Thursday. We made chicken burgers with a Thai coriander dressing. I thought you’d like it.”
Konnor sat on the high stool and stared at the bun and the fried chicken breast that steamed between it. Mom poured herself a glass of red wine and took out a beer for Konnor. Then she took a seat as well. Her short hair was wavy today, something she hadn’t done for a long time, and turquoise earrings hung from under her locks. She also had pink lipstick on.
Lipstick? She doesn’t wear lipstick…
The light-gray blouse and big, turquoise necklace matching her earrings were new, weren’t they? And what about the makeup?
“Mom,” Konnor said. “What’s going on?”
She chuckled nervously. “Let’s eat first.”
His gut twisted. “No. Tell me.”
They had a usual Sunday routine. He’d come in the morning, bring her groceries and cash. She’d cook lunch, during which he’d do whatever small repairs she needed. They’d talk, she’d show him her new painting, and they’d go for a walk on the beach if the weather permitted. She never wore makeup, as far as he could remember, and she usually had something cozy on, like a jersey.
Actually, he’d noticed that something was different ever since he’d gotten back from Scotland. When he’d reached the Keir farm, the first thing he’d done was call her. And she hadn’t even missed him. She’d been surprised he’d apologized for not calling sooner, even though he was supposed to have been back the day before.
The Keirs had taken him to the hotel in Dalmally, where his friends had booked rooms, and a pissed-off Andy had raged and yelled at him for an hour. Scottish search and rescue hadn’t been able to find him, and they’d been really close to calling his mom to tell her it was likely he’d died.
He’d told Andy he’d gotten lost in the storm, fallen into a ravine, and injured his ankle and his head. He’d said a woman who lived in a cottage found him and took care of him, and he’d stayed with her for a couple of days. The phone lines had been broken, so he couldn’t contact anyone. Andy had still been furious with him.
Andy had his bag with his passport and his phone, and they’d both flown back home right away. During his first week back in L.A., Konnor had gone to see his mom daily, making sure she was all right. She seemed surprised, and maybe even a little annoyed, to have him visit so often. “You’re like a mother hen, Konnor, for God’s sakes. I love you, but please stop, I feel a little suffocated.”
His firm was doing well, and it seemed the world had moved on while he was gone.
Only he hadn’t.
“Mom,” Konnor said, “whatever it is, tell me.”
She sighed and glanced at the tablet. “All right. But promise me you’ll take the news calmly.”
His heart drummed. News? Was she sick? Was she moving? What was going on?
“I met someone.”
Silence. If silence could explode, it just had.
“You what?”
She sighed. “I met someone, and I want you to meet him, too.”
“Mom!”
She shrugged. “He’s an art dealer who went to the same painting class as me half a year ago. About portraits.”
Fuck.
She shrugged. “He said he loved my painting, and I showed him my collection. He said the same thing you’ve been telling me for years, that I should have an exhibition and sell them. And you know what, I’m doing it. He’s helping.” She giggled. “In New York, of all places!”
Konnor groaned. Fear gripped him in ice-cold vise. “You’re not serious.”
She blinked. “All right, all right. Calm down. I’m not moving in with Mark or anything. But we’ve been dating for six months now.”
