CHAPTER FOURTEENMother leaned across the breakfast table and peered into his face, holding his cheeks in her hands. They were both ready to leave for work. Lindsey pondered the old notion of adult sons tied to their mothers’ apron strings. Perhaps it had impeded his own growth. Well, no perhaps about it, he knew that it had.
But none of the pop psychologists who wrote about the phenomenon, from Philip Wylie half a century ago to the author of this week’s fad best-seller, had paid attention to the way it impeded the growth of the mother. In the Lindsey household, Mother had fixated on her son to the exclusion of anything else. With her husband dead, Hobart was all she had. She’d closed herself off not only from friends and neighbors but from news of the day and from the whole changing worl
