Kieran’s mother Heather is already there when we arrive. She’s been seated at a table, but she rises to hug both of us as soon as she sees us.
“Such a pleasure to officially meet you, my dear,” she says as she squeezes me. The hug reminds me of the way it felt to hug my own mother back before she grew thin—warm and soft, like hugging a teddy bear or a child’s comfort object. “Kier has said such wonderful things about you. And, of course, I’m quite fond of your mother.”
“Linds didn’t ride with you?” Kieran asks his mother as we take our seats.
“Ah—no.” Heather’s smile falters. “She went to Chris’ earlier today and said she’d come here straight from there.”
Kieran’s expression darkens. “She say why?”
“Apparently he’s been doing quite a bit of groveling, and you know how emotional she’s
