seriously, but she’s vibrant and attractive. Why wouldn’t she date?”
“It would be weird,” Montana said.
“Or uncomfortable.” Nevada picked up her drink. “She would probably find a guy in fifteen seconds. I can’t remember the last time I was on a date.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” Dakota admitted. “But don’t you think one of us should be successful at the dating thing?”
“You don’t see the humiliation of that person being our mother?” Nevada asked.
Dakota grinned. “There is that.”
Montana shook her head. “No. She can’t. What about Dad?”
Dakota studied her. “It’s been over ten years since he died. Doesn’t she deserve a life?”
“Don’t get all logical and therapist-y on me. I’m very comfortable not being the mature one.”
“Then you shouldn’t worry. We were just joking about it.” As a way to release tension, Dakota thought sadly. As a distraction from the truth about her inability to have children.
“She didn’t sign up for the show, did she?” Nevada asked. “Not that I wouldn’t support her if she did.”
“No, she didn’t.”
“Thank God.” Nevada leaned back in her chair. “Speaking of the show, when do they announce the contestants?”
“Tomorrow. They’ve already made their casting decisions, but they’re not telling anyone in advance. I think they’re broadcasting live or something. I’m trying to stay out of it as much as I can.”
“Will Finn be there?” Montana asked.
“Nearly every day.”
Montana raised her eyebrows. “That will keep things interesting.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Dakota said lightly. “He’s a nice man, nothing more.”
Nevada grinned. “You expect us to believe that?”
“Yes, and if you don’t, I expect you to pretend.”
AURELIA DID HER BEST to tune out the rant as she carefully put dishes into the dishwasher. The tirade was a familiar one. That Aurelia was a terrible daughter, selfish and cruel, who cared about no one but herself. That her mother had cared for her for years so it wasn’t wrong to expect a little support and comfort in her old age.
“I’ll be gone soon,” her mother declared. “I’m sure you’re counting the days until I’m dead.”
Aurelia turned slowly to face the woman who had raised her on a secretary’s salary. “Mama, you know that’s not true.”
“So I’m a liar?” her mother demanded. “Is that what you tell people?” Her mother’s face crumpled. “I’ve only ever loved you. You’re the most important person in my life. My only child. And this is the thanks I get?”
As always, Aurelia couldn’t quite follow the train of the argument. She was clear on the fact that she’d messed up—she always messed up. No matter what she did, she was a constant disappointment. Much like her father, who had abandoned both his wife and daughter.
Aurelia didn’t know if her mother had been a professional victim before he’d left, but she’d certainly taken on star status in the “poor me” department after.
“Look at you,” her mother continued, pointing to Aurelia’s long, straight hair. “You’re a mess. You think this is how to find a man? They don’t even see you. This is Fool’s Gold. There aren’t that many men. You have to try harder to get one here.”
Harsh words that were true, Aurelia thought. She moved through the world in a bubble. Doing her job, going out to lunch with her work friends, invisible to every man, including the president of the company. She’d worked for his firm for nearly two years, and he still had trouble remembering her name.
“I want grandchildren,” her mother declared. “I ask for so little, but do you give them to me?”
“I’m trying, Mama.”
“Not hard enough. You’re with businessmen all day long. Smile at them. Flirt a little. Do you even know how? Dress better. You could lose a little weight, too. I didn’t put you through college so you could be alone your whole life.”
Aurelia closed the dishwasher and then wiped down the counter. Technically her mother hadn’t paid for college at all. Aurelia had received a couple of small scholarships, a few grants and had worked to pay the rest. However, she had lived at home for free, so that was support. Her mother was right—she should be more grateful.
“You’ll be thirty soon,” her mother went on. “Thirty. So old. When I was that age, you were five and your father had been gone four years. Did I have time to be young? No. I had responsibilities. I had to work two jobs. Did I complain? Never. You lacked for nothing.”
“You were good to me, Mama,” she said dutifully. “You still are.”
“Of course I am. I’m your mother. You need to take care of me.”
Which was what had happened a few years ago. Aurelia had graduated, gotten her first job and moved out. A year or so later, her mother had mentioned money was a little short and asked her to help her out. A few dollars here and there had become the reality of nearly supporting her mother.
While her accounting job paid well, paying rent on two places, not to mention utilities and groceries, didn’t leave very much left over.
Other parents seemed proud of their children’s successes. Not her mother. She complained that Aurelia took horrible care of her. In this household, being a child meant a never-ending debt that only grew with time.
Aurelia stared out the kitchen window at the backyard beyond. Instead of a neat garden, she saw a giant balance sheet covered in red. Near-physical proof that she was trapped forever.
It wasn’t supposed to have been like this, she thought sadly. She’d always had dreams of finding someone special, of falling in love. She just wanted to belong without having to feel there was always a payment to be made.
An impossible fantasy, she reminded herself. She wasn’t especially pretty or interesting. She was an accountant who actually loved her work. She didn’t go to clubs or bars, and should a man ever speak to her, she wouldn’t have a clue what to say back.
“If you get picked for that show,” her mother warned, “don’t embarrass me by saying or doing something stupid. Be on your best behavior.”
“I’ll try.”
“Try!” Her mother, a small woman with penetrating dark eyes, threw her arms in the air. “It’s always try with you. Never do. You try and then fail.”
Not exactly a pep talk designed to make her feel better, Aurelia thought, walking through the kitchen to the small living room. She hadn’t wanted to audition
