“What can I get for you?” Polly asked.
Smiling broadly, Irene stepped up to the counter. “I think I’ll forget about calories today and go for the Reuben.”
On Tuesday when Kennedy returned from lunch, his mother was waiting for him in his office.
“Is Dad okay?” he asked, surprised to see her. Since she’d been taking care of the boys, she usually just called if she had any concerns.
Twin spots of color rode high on her cheeks as she stood. “You have the nerve to ask me that?”
Kennedy slowed his step, trying to figure out what was going on. Setting his briefcase on a credenza, he came around the desk, but he didn’t sink into his chair. For this, he felt quite sure he needed to remain on his feet. Using his knuckles to lean on the desk, he waiting for the full brunt of her anger to hit. “Where’re the boys?”
“With Otis.”
“Dad’s home?”
“He didn’t go in to work this morning. He isn’t feeling well.” As much as Camille loved Otis and wanted nothing more than to see him healthy, she sounded almost triumphant to be able to tell Kennedy what he least wanted to hear.
Her words made his stomach muscles tense. He’d been dealing with his father’s illness mostly by pretending it didn’t exist. But he knew he couldn’t do that forever. Sooner or later, it would have a significant impact on all their lives. “Are you going to take him to the hospital?”
“No. We’ve called the doctor. They’re arranging for him to start—” she lowered her voice “—treatment next week instead of the week after. Until then, he’s supposed to rest. Fortunately, he hasn’t heard what you’ve been up to, or he’d be a lot sicker.”
“What have I been up to?” Kennedy asked.
She closed the door and advanced on him. “Why did you do it?”
“That question might be easier to answer if you told me what you’re talking about,” he said, but he knew his mother had found out about Grace. When he’d taken Grace camping, it hadn’t seemed like a big deal—just a weekend out with a woman he’d known in high school. But he hadn’t stopped thinking of her since—which made the time they’d spent together feel like the betrayal his mother thought it was.
“Quit playing games with me,” she said. “I’m talking about that Montgomery woman.”
Finally taking a seat, he began going through the stack of messages on his desk, as though he wasn’t all that concerned. “What about her?”
“What do you think? You took her away for the weekend.”
“I wanted to get to know her,” he said with a shrug.
“And?”
“That’s it.”
“That’s it,” she repeated in obvious disbelief. Shaking her head, she withdrew a flyer from her purse and shoved it at him.
Vicki Nibley’s name, emblazoned across the top in big block letters, stood out larger than the rest. Below that, Kennedy read, “A candidate who cares about law and order. A candidate who supports the rights of victims and their families.” At the very bottom, he found a personal endorsement—by Elaine, Marcus and Roger Vincelli. “Join us in supporting the only candidate who will fight for truth and justice.”
Kennedy stared at the signatures, shocked that Joe’s parents and brother had defected so quickly. They hadn’t even called him!
“This is…unexpected,” he said, glancing up at her.
“What did you think would happen?” his mother asked. “There’re rumors flying all over town about you and Grace. You know that woman’s reputation. Why would you open yourself up to such criticism? Especially before the election?”
Shoving back his chair, Kennedy stood. “Give her a break,” he said. “She’s never been convicted of anything. She’s an innocent woman who—”
“Who what?” Camille interrupted.
“Who was mistreated as a child. Have you ever stopped to think why she might have behaved the way she did?”
“I don’t care about that. I only care about you!” Camille’s voice cracked as it rose, and Kennedy suspected she was close to tears. He couldn’t remember ever seeing his mother cry—except when she’d told him his father had cancer. He’d known then that the world was coming to an end, because no one was stronger than Camille Archer.
It bothered him to know he’d upset her so badly. She was already going through a lot. “It’s okay, Mom. I…I’ll do something about this,” he said, even though, at the moment, he had no idea what that might be.
Her nostrils flared as she worked to gain control of her emotions. “You’d better,” she said at last.
Kennedy understood how deeply his father’s diagnosis upset her. She’d built her life around Otis, his hopes and dreams, this town. “It’s just an election,” he reminded her gently.
“Don’t you believe it.” Her tone rang with determination. “What’s happening could adversely affect your father. And I won’t tolerate that!”
Kennedy wasn’t sure how to console her, but he knew he could only go so far to please his parents, the Vincellis or anyone else in Stillwater. “I have to live with myself,” he said. “I have to do what I think is best.”
“Then do what you think is best. Just stay away from her.”
He thought of the tentative arrangements he’d made with Grace to go to the fireworks. She’d said she’d call him, but she hadn’t. He was taking that as a yes. “I’m not sure I want to turn my back on her.”
“She doesn’t need you.”
“Maybe not, but having a friend in this town can’t hurt her.”
“It could hurt you.”
He skimmed over his mother’s response. “And the boys? You think they should stay away, too?”
“Of course!”
“They’re crazy about her.”
“They wouldn’t even know her if it wasn’t for you.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “They won’t be happy about losing contact with her.”
“Of course they won’t,” Camille replied. “She plays with them as if she doesn’t have a care in the world.”
“And why not?” he said, dropping his hand. “She’s off work right now.”
“She should be more productive and less…visible.”