It was nine in the morning when I walked into BlackBird Coffee, one of my mother’s favorite places to have breakfast. I’d been up all night and was dead tired, but I never showed anyone how exhausted I was. Not when it was a sign of weakness.
My mother was already seated at the table with her coffee and raspberry croissant.
I ordered a black coffee at the counter then took the seat across from her. I was dressed down in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, whereas she was in a taupe cashmere sweater, dark pants, and boots. A gold bracelet was on her wrist, and a diamond necklace hung around her throat. My mother preserved her beauty with every intervention at her disposal, so while she was in her golden years, she looked like she could be in her forties.
I took a drink and let the tension st
