“Grace is cleaning up the kitchen,” Mom said. “Normally, I would have offered to help, but you know . . .”

“You don’t like her,” Troy said.

“I don’t trust her,” Mom said in a lowered voice. “That’s what I’ve wanted to tell you.”

Troy glanced at Lexi and Junior. The kids were playing with their respective toys, and didn’t seem to be tuned in to their conversation, but children could be like human audio recorders and might repeat whatever they’d heard, at the most inopportune moments. He needed to be mindful to avoid giving them fodder for something later on.

“Let’s be careful about little ears.” He shifted on the cushions so he could face his mother. “Explain, please.”

“It’s difficult to articulate.” Mom’s eyes narrowed as she contemplated her words. “But there’s this almost casual rudeness about her. Take the remark about the chocolate cake, for instance. That was simply rude, Troy.”

“Definitely uncalled for, agreed. It’s not a contest.”

“My gut tells me that what I’ve observed so far is only the tip of the iceberg. You know I’m a shrewd judge of character.”

He couldn’t argue her point. In his entire adult life, he had brought home only three women to meet his mother. Monica was the only one his mother had actually liked; Mom had declared the others would make his life miserable. A couple of years after he married Monica, out of sheer curiosity, he had looked up those two exes online and found that one had been divorced twice already, and the other lady was serving time in prison for running an identity theft scam with her boyfriend.

He trusted his mother’s judgment, implicitly.

“Point duly noted,” he said. “But wow, she sure can cook.”

“Don’t let good cooking deceive you,” Mom said. “She could have acquired those culinary skills while working in the prison kitchen.”

Troy laughed, but Mom didn’t.

“We don’t have to deal with the situation much longer, okay?” he said. “She’s only staying through tomorrow.”

“Wouldn’t have known that based on the size of her suitcase.” Mom clinked the ice cubes in her glass, lips puckered sourly.

“Yeah, I noticed that, too.”

“But as you said, it’s only for one night,” Mom said. “We can deal with it and send her on her way tomorrow.”

“Exactly,” he said. “We’re doing this for Monica, remember? Let’s just try to stay out of it. We don’t need the drama.”

“Fair enough.” Mom squared her shoulders. “I’ll try.”

13