Chương 15: Chapter 15: Birthday Dinner

I dabbed at the corner of my mouth with the soft, white napkin and sighed in happiness. Mom had outdone herself and from the beaming way she looked at my empty plate, I'd given her the best birthday present ever.

"I hope you saved room for dessert." She hustled to her feet, the padded bottoms of the dining room chair silent on the hardwood floor as she stood across from me, rushing around Dad to take my plate. I knew better than to try to help, smiling up at her before scowling a bit at my father as Mom divested him of his, too. Usually he did a good job of at least trying to compliment Mom on her amazing cooking despite his lack of enthusiasm for her culinary explorations. Instead, tonight of all nights, he stared at his glass of beer and grunted when she swooped in and took the fine white china plate from in front of him before sweeping off toward the kitchen. Naturally, drooling and hoping for scraps, Petunia followed her, claws clicking on the floor.

I let her go, focused on Dad. I could just reach him at the head of the table with the toe of my shoe, catching his shin with a satisfying blow that raised his head and earned me a frown.

"That was delicious, Mom," I called out, tilting my head and glaring at him. "The best pork loin I've ever tasted." I wasn't lying to make her feel better, either. Whatever she'd marinated the meat in gave it a tangy sweetness mixed with spice that melted in the mouth and paired perfectly with the mushroom sauce she'd ladled generously over the garlic mashed potatoes. And forget about the glaze she'd used on the carrots. I'd take a shower in it.

Dad winced and looked away when Mom peeked her head around the corner, pug still stalking her, carefully styled hair caught at the base of her neck to keep it out of the way of her cooking. "Thank you, sweetie," she said. "I'm trying a new rub. Did you really like it?" My mother was an amazing woman and had a core of steel hidden carefully behind charm and her own brand of sophistication. She'd managed Dad all these years without a complaint or a scrap of concern, even when he handled really horrible cases and wasn't fit to live with. But when it came to cooking, she was her own worst enemy and had insecurities just like the rest of us.

You know what? Mom deserved to trust her talent and I did everything I could to support her cooking habit. Including eating everything she made with gusto. And if a little bit of excessive praise kept my tummy happy... I'd forgotten just how good she was at this.

"Mom, you'd put a chef at the finest overpriced New York joint to shame." Another kick for Dad who shot me a scowl before piping up himself.

"Fantastic, Lu," he said, voice loud enough I knew she heard. "What Fee said."

He did not just cop out like that. "You can't possibly top that with dessert," I said, tossing my napkin at him and jutting my lower jaw so he knew how much trouble he was in dropping the ball like this. On Mom's birthday.

Dad sighed then, sipped his beer. "I couldn't dream of ruining the symphony of perfection that's still lingering in my mouth with mere sugar," he said. And stuck his tongue out at me.

Well, that was at least an effort.

Mom appeared at the door, breathless. "You two have no idea," she squealed before disappearing again.

I leaned toward Dad who had returned to staring into his beer. "Crew says the coroner thinks Pete's death is an accident." I hissed that at him, caught his annoyed attention. Did he look suddenly guilty? Or relieved? No way of knowing which, not with my most stoic of Dads glaring me down. "But what if he was pushed?"

"By who, Fee?" Dad's low tone matched mine. Neither of us wanted Mom in on this. She'd be so disappointed, cop talk on her birthday. "You?"

I snarled at him. "Cute," I said, almost blurting a repeat of his question-refusing to believe while struggling not to-before sharing what I'd learned. "But I do know the whole signing over of Petunia's isn't the first time he tried such a scheme."

Dad leaned in himself then, focused for real now. I'd finally caught his attention. "You stay out of this, Fee," he said in that growling commanding voice of his that stopped working on me when I was twelve and knew he'd never follow through with any punishment he set. That was Mom's job, delivered in a disappointed voice but with a will of iron might I could never win against. Who knew? "I mean it."

Which meant Dad was well aware there were other victims like me. "I can't just drop this, Dad," I said. "The man died at my place. While claiming it wasn't my place anymore. And he's tried the same thing with others." Frustration made my hands clench into fists on either side of my now empty place mat. "I need answers."

"It's got nothing to do with you," Dad said, "and I'm taking care of Petunia's. So just mind your own business."

Mom reappeared with an enthusiastic, "Ta-da!" and a giant cheesecake on a tray, a ring of sliced strawberries drizzled in vanilla sauce making a crown of crimson and white around the edge. Petunia settled right beside Mom, staring up at her with the whites of her brown eyes showing, eagerly anticipating her own slice. Mom's return silenced my conversation with Dad. We both ate the delicious and decadent treat like it was a race, me glaring at him over my berries, him staring right back until, as usual, he beat me, cramming the last massive bite down before springing to his feet and saluting Mom with his still dirty fork. Petunia chuffed an impatient yip at him for not even saving her a crumb while he spoke.

"Delicious," he said around his mouthful. At least, that's what I think he said. Before spinning and leaving the room.

The coward. I barely tasted my cheesecake to that point, and turned to find Mom sadly watching Dad go. Instantly felt terrible for ruining my mother's birthday and slowed the hell down. Said yes to a second piece which I picked at while Mom played with her own with a low, sad sigh.

"Dinner was awesome," I said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. Petunia muttered her dissatisfaction with being ignored, forgiving Mom instantly as she bent and offered the pug a little lick of cheesecake off her finger before sitting up again.

I knew that look on Mom's face. She smiled bravely at me, setting down her fork with a tiny tinkle of silver on china. "I should know better than to think you two could have a civil dinner with everything that's going on." She patted my hand, her green eyes my green eyes. "And I shouldn't have tried."

"Mom." I tugged at her fingers when she attempted to rise and leave. "Wait, please." The flowers were already in a vase in the kitchen, suitably adored and lovingly displayed. I could see them through the doorway. But the box from Daisy was still in my purse and I fished it out with the slightly crumpled bow leaning to one side.

Mom's eyes lit up even as she spoke. "Fiona Fleming, no presents. You know the rules."

"It's not from me," I said. Hating at that moment her particular ideas about birthdays and fully committing, after seeing just how delighted and excited she was, that next year she'd be getting a present whether she said she liked it or not. "This is from Daisy."

"Oh, how kind." Mom took the box from me, clutched it in her fingers like it was a precious flower. Yup, present rule officially decimated. How had I allowed her to convince me not to give her gifts when she clearly loved them? The paper fell after a long, careful moment she spent pulling the tape free as if the contents were infinitely breakable, the small black and red box stamped with a diamond on the top. She lifted the lid, peeking inside, pulling away the thin layer of cotton while my heart hurt so much I wanted to hug my mother. And smiled with her at the sight of the slim, silver bracelet with the tiny "Lucy" charm dangling from it.

"Please tell Daisy I'll be along to thank her personally," Mom said. Were those tears in her eyes? "And then to spank her for being naughty. She knows the rules."

I stood, circled the table and hugged my mother, Petunia in the way. She murmured in surprise while I grabbed Dad's chair and pulled it closer, holding Mom's hand. "Thanks for your birthday dinner," I said.

Mom blinked, smiled, beamed. "You're welcome. Will you?" She held out her wrist and the box and a moment later my fingers closed the clasp and the delicate thing dangled from her skin.

"Mom." I sat back, biting my lower lip while she admired her gift.

"Fee." She looked up, face quiet. "Just ask me."

"Where was Dad Thursday night? Was he home?" Of course he was. Stupid question.

Mom didn't answer right away and my heart stopped a beat or two while she sighed and looked down at her hands clasped in the lap of her neat pencil skirt. Her fingers toyed with her name in silver as she spoke.

"I don't know where he was," she said. "But I know what you're implying, Fiona Marie Fleming, and I'm shocked by it." Thing was, she didn't sound shocked.

"What was between Pete and Dad, Mom?" Why did I think, after all this time, either one of my parents had changed? Just because I grew up and moved home, did I really think that was going to mean anything? Secrets. Dad loved protecting his and Mom loved protecting him.

Mom stood, kissed the top of my head. "I know being a detective is in your blood," she whispered into my hair with enough sadness I sagged and didn't fight her. "And though I love your father, Fee, I'm willing to tell you now I think it was a big mistake for John to keep you from pursuing a life in law enforcement." She did? Nice to know Mom might be on my side for once. Not that it really mattered. "You'd be great at it. A chip off the block, as they say." I looked up into her eyes. Pride there, for me. Amazing. "But please, just drop this. I'm asking you to let Crew handle it."

I didn't answer right away, couldn't bring myself to nod or even murmur agreement. Because she was right, I guess. I was too much like Dad.

Mom patted my cheek, the iron finally showing again past her little smile. "Be a good girl and mind your own business," she said from the Fleming family playbook and left the room, sad pug gazing longingly after her.

***

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