Summer Encore: Part of the Summers of Seaside Series by Mel Walker

Author:Mel Walker [Walker, Mel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-08-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Five

Betty

My feet spin, and I’m dancing. Dancing on the streets like I don’t have a care in the world. It sure feels this way. I haven’t felt this free in a long time, and I owe it all to Laredo.

I hum Sano’s anthem to living life without restrictions and remind myself to never forget this lesson again. I almost feel normal again. Margo is hanging out with friends tonight; Laredo is back at the studio, working with Ariel and his brother. I’ve clocked out from the bookstore. An urge pulls at me to head to Driftwood, but I don’t want to press my luck.

Today was a good day. I’m headed home to relax and enjoy the moment while a little part tells me to stick close to home in case Laredo wants to hang. I’ve never been the stay at home in case a guy calls type of girl. But for Laredo, I will.

I turn the corner, and my feet stop when I see who is sitting on the steps of the tiny starter house I’m renting. My mom.

She spots me, rising to her feet with a foreign happy to see you smile on her face. My mom matches my five-five height. She’s thin, with dark hair, wearing large sunglasses that hide her wandering eyes. I spot a strand of gray in her brunette bun sitting on the top of her head. I know the minute she notices; she’ll rush to her favorite chair in Miss Delilah’s beauty shop.

I slow my approach, still adjusting to the smiles from her. For most of my adult life, my mom had only given me looks of disapproval, her passive-aggressive way of reminding me that I didn’t follow the path she had built for me. The responsible path filled with a respectful job and a reputable husband, leading to a quiet life not making waves.

As much as I rebelled against every one of her lessons, I still seek her approval. When I moved out of my shared apartment right on the beach, I found this tiny house a quarter of a mile inland. My mom always told us to strive toward owning a home. A fact that played into my decision when I went looking for my next place. It’s a rental, but it’s a house. Even if all I could afford is the first floor of the house and its total footage is less than my old apartment, my mom seemed pleased when I invited her over that first time.

“You’re in a good mood.” My mom raises her sunglasses and gives me the once-over. “I like this top on you.” Her smirk only reminds me of a lifetime of remarks she made about the outfits I wore to Driftwood.

Instead of pushing back, I nod. I play the role of the door mouse because my reckless behavior last summer demanded I take inventory and do things differently. Mom was more than willing to help me on my journey. A nudge here, an invite

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