Facade of Love (Yvette Scott and Idris Young) novel Chapter 463

Maxwell just shrugged. "An old buddy was into them, dragged me along a few times. Saw them on my way back and figured you'd enjoy them, so here they are."

I gave a noncommittal hum, popped a few crawfish into my mouth, and then, unable to help myself, I cracked open the cake box for a sweet treat. The dance of spicy and sweet on my tongue was a sensation like no other, and it was exactly what I needed.

The funk I had been in started to lift. What they said was true: food is magic. It could wash away a world of woes.

He was thumbing through a book, but I could tell his mind was elsewhere—on me. "Haven't you checked out any other books?" he asked.

I glanced back at him, clueless. "Got anything worth reading? It's all economics here. Think I would be into that?"

He curled an eyebrow and let out a soft laugh. "Fair point."

He paused, then started to say something else, "So..."

"You want to know if I saw those papers on your desk, right?" I cut in, tired of his roundabout way of asking. I set down my fork, slid into the seat opposite him, and got straight to the point.

He hesitated, then nodded, admitting it. "Did you read them?"

"Yeah!" Then that it was out there, I figured I might as well be upfront. I looked him in the eye. "However, I only glanced at the newspaper. The rest didn't catch my eye. You're digging into something from a decade ago?"

He nodded, his lips a tight line and book still in hand.

I mirrored his expression, curious. "Find anything?"

I was not sure if he had, or even if he did, whether he would spill the beans.

He seemed surprised by my question, then shook his head. "Nope. Most of that stuff was buried on purpose, and after ten years, it's like looking for a needle in a haystack."

He took a moment, then with a probing look, he said, "You're really into that old mystery, huh?"

I snatched the book from his grip and shot him a look. "I've got a curious mind. I'm done eating. Time to hit the books. No more chit-chat."

Maxwell probably would not find much about what went down ten years ago. If there was anything to find, someone would have stirred up some noise about it by then.

Mom still would not see me. I understood her. She was all warmth and kindness until she got mad. Then, no amount of sweet-talking would do the trick.

After I got back from the border, I thought about making things right with her, apologizing for the stuff I said earlier in the year. However, once I made up my mind, I stopped trying to bother her over at the Scotts'.

Maybe it was for the best. If I had to leave again, why should I trouble her? With Alice by her side and Maxwell looking out for her, she might not have been too torn up if I had ended up dying on the border and never made it back. She would not miss me too much even if I were gone for good.

I had planned to visit my dad's grave when I knew Mom would not be there, but life had other plans, and there she was. The last time I had seen her was outside the Youngs Old Manor, Alice right next to her, and she had not even glanced my way.

However, this time, we were both at Dad's grave. She was silently clearing away leaves and twigs from his tombstone. When she felt me there, she looked up, our eyes met, and for a split second, she hesitated. Then she went right back to tidying up.

I brought Dad's favorite drinks and snacks, set them all out, and bowed deeply three times.

Mom did not say a word. After she laid down her offerings, she got ready to leave.

She was alone today. I watched her walk away and could not keep quiet. "Mom!" I called out.