Cordelia unlocked the apartment door, sighing with pleasure at being home. It had been a long and emotional day, and she was ready to have some of her mother’s famous lasagna and kick back with a glass of wine. Maybe two.
“Hi, Mom.” Sean was standing in the tiny kitchen drinking a glass of carrot juice. For reasons that would forever remain a mystery to Cordelia, her son loved the stuff. He’d choose it over milk, over apple juice, even over Coke. Not that she offered Sean Coke very much, but still. It was inarguably odd for a ten-year-old kid to ask for carrot juice with his pizza.
“Hi, sweetie.” Wearily, she kicked off her cheap high heels. “You doing alright?”
“Oh, he’s fine, believe me. But your son is driving me crazy, I’ll have you know.”
Cordelia turned to her mother, already fig
