“Mom’s not cut from the usual cloth.” Justin’s hand tightened behind her. “Watch your step.”
“I’m fine.” The path leading to the house was made of smooth pebbles, but Vanessa was an expert stiletto walker.
The aroma of bubbling soup and fresh biscuits hit her the moment Justin opened the heavy wooden door, and she had to smile at her own preconceptions. She’d assumed the place would be like her family’s mansion with its cool, wax- and cleanser-scented air.
The interior was all warm earth-tone tiles and rugs and old wood with off-white stucco walls. A painting in the living room featured a view of the ocean; a sunset spilled orange over the water and palm trees swayed in the breeze. It somehow didn’t quite seem to go with the rest of the place.
Justin noticed her gaze. “That’s the place where she met my dad,” he said. “She was working at a resort there.”
Blanche came out of the open kitchen, her sneakers quiet. Stove heat had turned her cheeks rosy. Her hair spread out around her face like a fluffy silver cloud. She wasn’t wearing a single piece of jewelry, but her dark eyes sparkled. She wore a pink long-sleeve shirt and blue jeans, all simple cotton. The white and green apron on her read Home, Sweet Home in a fire-truck red.
“Welcome!” she said, extending her arms.
“Mom!” Justin gave her a tight hug, his large frame enfolding Blanche’s much smaller one.
Vanessa stood behind him, her hands clasped. Justin had put on a casual shirt and khakis, but she’d chosen a discreet black designer dress, a brand new pair of stilettos and the pink pearls Ceinlys had given her when she’d graduated from Stanford Law. Suddenly she felt overdressed and ridiculous—despite being in a favorite outfit that had never failed to boost her confidence. Still, she pasted on a polite smile.
“Introduce me to your wife,” Blanche said, finally pulling away after a moment.
“Mom, Vanessa. Vanessa, Mom.”
“How do you do?” Vanessa said in her smoothest debutante voice. Thank god her grandmother had insisted on her completing an etiquette course. At that time she’d thought it was the silliest thing ever, but now she clung to every lesson.
“No need to be so formal, my dear.” Blanche clasped Vanessa’s hands. “That’s what Barron expects, not me. I’m just family.” She gestured at the dining table. “Please, sit. I know it was a long drive from the airport. Do you want some soup? Or if you prefer, I have whole wheat bread and biscuits with organic butter.”
“Soup and bread sounds lovely.” Vanessa sat at the table.
“What about lamb?” Justin asked, taking a seat next to her
“That’s for dinner, silly boy.”
Blanche served everyone. The soup was homey, with a light broth, had delicious vegetables and beans, and was topped with shredded cheese.
“It’s too bad you have to leave tomorrow,” Blanche said.
“Work. What can I say?” Justin popped half a biscuit into his mouth. “Barron’s basically retired, even though he won’t formally announce it.”
“That’s so like him. Thank heavens he doesn’t bother me with family events anymore.”
“He can’t make you travel.”
“Especially since I don’t care about his money.” Blanche turned to Vanessa. “Justin can tell you, I value my privacy now. Too old to be gallivanting around. I heard you’re pregnant. If anything’s not to your liking, I can always get you something else.”
“That won’t be necessary. This is perfect.”
“I’m so glad you’re here, Vanessa.” Blanche beamed. “Never thought Justin would marry, what with him unable to date any girl for long.”
Vanessa forced a smile, then busied herself with eating. If Blanche only knew about their dating history, she wouldn’t be as kind. She’d believe Vanessa had used her son, stringing him along. Having grown up watching her grandmother, she knew how things were perceived, especially by mothers-in-law.
But at the same time she couldn’t help but wonder if Blanche would be different from Shirley Pryce, who would have died rather than be seen in a kitchen…or wearing an apron.
As the day went on, it became obvious that Justin adored his mother. While Vanessa rested on the living room sofa—having been practically ordered to do so—he went to the kitchen to help Blanche with cooking and clean-up. They laughed often, their voices light.
Blanche must be a great mother. All Vanessa’s brothers—except possibly Dane—loved Ceinlys, but their interactions with her were always subdued, with a hint of strain. If they laughed once, it was a good time. Twice? Well, bring out the champagne.
The only child-rearing method Vanessa knew was handing kids off to nannies. Given how affectionately Blanche had treated Justin in just the few hours they’d been together that afternoon, Vanessa doubted that would be acceptable.
It was unfortunate there was no bachelor’s degree in child rearing. Vanessa had hoped she could bumble along and figure things out without anybody judging her. But she’d thought wrong. Justin’s mother was the standard by which h