“That’s a very good question. I don’t know the answer. All I know is that she didn’t find out who I really am. She didn’t know that part of me was long dead. My mother killed that part of me and Marissa only knew what was left of the body. And I wanted to bury that part of me at last and not mire her in all of that. I needed to know I wasn’t a head case before I came back into Marissa’s life. She deserves better than that. If I never got my act together I was going to leave her in peace, at least.”

“It sounds as if you’ve been rehearsing that speech for a while.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Joyce gave her a suspicious look. “Turn left up here.”

The silence lasted until Linda pulled into parking space next to the elegant BMW. Rain pattered softly on the windscreen. “Marissa may send me away.”

“I worry. I’m her mother and I do love her.”

“I respect that, Joyce, I really do. You may not know how much.”

“If you happen to be around, in my daughter’s life, I will remind you that you said that.”

Well, it wasn’t exactly permission to court her daughter’s hand in marriage, but Linda wasn’t going to be a stickler about that. “I expect you to.”

She watched Joyce drive away and then headed for her motel. She was stopped at a light when she remembered she was providing breakfast in the morning. The rear view mirror told her if she smiled any harder she might break something.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d have in the icebox, so I brought a little of everything.”

Marissa, wrapped tightly in a purple chenille robe, hobbled back to let Linda pass her. Linda glanced around, noticing signs of cleaning up. She smiled to herself even as she regretted Marissa having to hop around her apartment gathering up papers and dirty clothes.

“I’m on a diet, you know.” Marissa slowly followed Linda into the tiny kitchen.

“That’s why I have fruit. French bread. Egg substitute. Green peppers. Cooked shrimp. And diet ginger ale for poor woman’s mimosas.”

Marissa sank into a chair at the tiny table. “I’m buying a condo.”

“Okay. Point me toward the knives. I’m actually useful in the kitchen now. Lots of time to cook for myself in Montana.”

“All things that cut are in the last drawer on the left. Frying pan below the oven. Plates next to the microwave.”

“Ah.” Linda found what she needed, including some cooking spray and started on a shrimp omelet. “How is your ankle feeling this morning?”

“Okay. It probably would be better if I hadn’t gone out last night but I didn’t want to disappoint Philip. He has a lot of friends and family so it was a big, fabulous party with lots of nice gay men to fuss and make sure I had plenty to eat and drink. They rewrapped my ankle.”

Linda glanced over, then carried the bowl of egg goo she was whisking over for a closer look. “Ribbon from the presents?”