dramatically say something about her heart not being up to taking this sort of stress and worry.
Yohanna resigned herself to the fact that she might as well answer her phone and get the inevitable over with.
Taking a deep, bracing breath, she yanked the receiver from its cradle and placed it against her ear—praying for a wrong number.
“Hello?”
“It’s about time you answered. Where were you? Never mind,” Elizabeth Andrzejewski said dismissively. “I’m calling you to tell you that I’ve got your room all ready.”
Yohanna closed her eyes, gathering together the strength she sensed she was going to need to get through this phone call.
Until just a minute ago she’d been walking on air, still extremely excited about being hired. She would have been relieved landing any job so quickly, on practically the heels of her recent layoff, but landing a job with Lukkas Spader, well, that was just the whip cream and the cherry on her sundae.
However, dealing with her mother always seemed to somehow diminish her triumphs and magnify everything that currently wasn’t going well in her life. Her mother had a way of talking to her that made her feel as if she was a child again. A child incapable of doing anything right without her mother’s help.
Yohanna knew that, deep down, her mother really meant well; she just wished the woman could mean well less often.
“Why would you do that, Mother?” she finally asked. She hadn’t used her room since she’d left for college and moved out on her own.
“So you’ll have somewhere to sleep, of course,” her mother said impatiently.
“I have somewhere to sleep. I sleep in my bedroom, which is in my condo, Mother, remember?” Yohanna asked tactfully.
She heard her mother sigh deeply before the woman launched into her explanation.
“Well, now that you’ve lost your job, you’re not going to be able to hang on to that overpriced apartment of yours. You should sell it now before the bank forecloses on it.”
Yohanna was stunned. Where was all this coming from? She’d had this so-called “discussion” with her mother several years ago when she’d first bought her condo. Her mother couldn’t understand why “a daughter of mine” would “waste” her money buying a “glorified apartment” when she had a perfectly good room right in her house. She’d thought that argument had finally been laid to rest.
Obviously she had thought wrong.
“The bank isn’t going to foreclose on me, Mother,” Yohanna informed her. “My mortgage payments are all up-to-date.”
“Well, they won’t be now that you’ve been fired,” her mother predicted with a jarring certainty.
“Laid off, Mother,” Yohanna corrected, trying not to grit her teeth. But there was no one who could make her crazier faster than her mother. “I wasn’t fired, I was laid off.”
“Whatever.” The woman cavalierly dismissed the correction.
“There is a difference, Mother,” Yohanna insisted. “One has to do with job performance. The other is a sad fact of modern life. In my case, it was the latter.”
“Potato, potato,” her mother said in a singsong voice. “The bottom line at the end of the day is that you don’t have a job.”
The words suddenly hit her for the first time. “How did you find out?” Yohanna asked.
She hadn’t told anyone about her layoff except for Mrs. Parnell, bless her. Granted, the people that she’d worked with knew, but a lot of them had been laid off, as well. She didn’t see any of them sending her mother a news bulletin. They didn’t even know her mother.
So how had her mother found out?
“I’m your mother,” Elizabeth Andrzejewski replied proudly, as if that alone should have been enough of an explanation. “I know everything.”
“You’re not omnipotent, Mother,” Yohanna told her mother wearily. “Spill it,” she ordered. “Just how did you find out about the layoff?”
The silence on the other end of the line began to stretch out.
“Mother...” Yohanna began insistently.
Elizabeth huffed. “If you must know, I went to the office to surprise you and take you out for lunch today. Imagine my surprise when I walked in and found out that you didn’t work there anymore. Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, sounding as if she had been deeply wounded by this omission of information.
“I didn’t want you to worry—or get upset,” Yohanna answered.
That part was true, although there were many more reasons than that why she had kept the news to herself. Specifically, she didn’t want to have to fend off her mother’s offers for “help,” all of which revolved around getting her to move back home. She’d moved out once, but she had a feeling that next time would be a great deal more difficult.
“You didn’t want me to worry.” Elizabeth practically sneered at the words. “I’m your mother. It’s my job to worry about you. Now, I won’t take no for an answer. I’ll come over tomorrow morning to help you pack up your things and—”
Her mother was more relentless than a class-five hurricane, Yohanna thought. But she was not about to throw up her hands and surrender.
“I’m not selling the condo, Mother,” she began patiently.
“All right, rent it out, then,” her mother advised, frustrated. “That’ll help you cover the cost of the exorbitant mortgage until you’re about to get back on your feet again—”
“Mother, I am on my feet.”
She heard her mother sigh again. This time, instead of sounding dramatic, there was pity in her mother’s voice.
Irritating pity.
“There’s no need to put up a brave front, Yohanna. Lots of people lose their jobs these days. Of course, if you had married Alicia Connolly’s son, that nice young doctor, you wouldn’t be in this predicament, wondering where your next dollar is coming from.”
Her mother was referring to a setup she’d had her hand in. As Yohanna recalled the entire excruciating event, it had truly been the blind date from hell as well as ultimately being the reason she had vowed to never allow her mother to set her up with a date again.
“For your information, Mother,” she said, enunciating each word so that her mother would absorb them, “I am not wondering where my next dollar is coming from.”
“Well, then, you should be,” Elizabeth told her with more than a touch of indignation in her voice. “The bank isn’t going to let you slide because of your good looks, which, as you know, you’re not going to have forever,” she added, unable, apparently, to keep from twisting the knife a little bit. “Which reminds me. My friend Sheila has this nephew—”
Although
