“Owen has the right to know his father.”

“He knows your son.”

“Not as a boy knows his dad. He needs a man in his life.”

Rachel wanted to call the woman out. Wanted to deck her for the pain she put in Owen’s face.

“Just because your son isn’t in my life doesn’t mean there aren’t men in my life.”

“Is that so?” Deyadria asked.

“Rachel has a boyfriend. He was here just this morning helping put up the Christmas lights. Something my father has never done.”

“A boyfriend?”

The word repeated in Rachel’s head, too. “He isn’t really a boyfriend.”

“What is he, if not a boyfriend?”

“A friend.”

“Just a friend? Isn’t that convenient. What kind of influence are you setting, bringing men around my grandson?”

Tereck stood. “Deyadria, honey. I think we should leave.”

“One minute, darling.” She glared at him, then back to Rachel. “This friend that isn’t a boyfriend . . . that has such a hold on my grandson that he defends the man . . . is he African American?”

Rachel didn’t see the question coming. “What? No, why?”

“Then he can’t possibly be the right man in Owen’s life. He needs a man with our culture and our values. Something Emily obviously didn’t nurture when she chose you as Owen’s guardian.”

Her jaw dropped. Words escaped Rachel’s reply.

Owen, on the other hand, used many.

“You mean sanctimonious and prejudicial values?”

“Owen!” Deyadria scolded.

“Not to mention rude.” Owen stood and walked to the door, grabbed Deyadria’s coat. “This is a nice coat. You should put it on before we kick you out of the house.” He tossed it on the floor and ran up the stairs.

“He is out of control.”

Rachel picked up the coat. “Actually, I think he used a lot of restraint.”

“Oh—”

She didn’t let the woman speak. “You’re out of line. Pick on me, my cooking, my home, my job . . . fine. But pick on that child’s mother, and you deserve whatever he throws at you.”

Deyadria had the good sense to shut up.

“When TJ is in town, have him call me.” Rachel thrust out the coat, making it clear she wanted them gone.

Tereck accepted it, held it open for his wife.

“TJ is planning on staying.” Deyadria pulled her collar high and buttoned the front.

“Good for him.” Rachel couldn’t care less.

“He wants to settle down.”

Her back tingled.

“Our boy wants to know his son,” Tereck said.

“Great.” Not great, not great at all. “Have him call me.”

“What, to ask your permission?” Deyadria didn’t know when to quit.

“No.” Rachel opened the door. “To ask Owen’s.”

She locked the door the second they were on the other side, and climbed the stairs. “Owen?” She rapped on the closed door twice.

“Yeah.”

He was on his bed.

“You okay?”

“I hate them.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, by his feet. “I don’t care for them either.”

He blinked at her a few times.

“I don’t care for pus-filled pimples on my ass either.” Rachel mimicked Owen’s voice.

Owen smiled through the pain.

She smiled back and started laughing.

His bright face was a relief to see.

“I about died when you said that.”

“I was proud of myself, too.”

He released a long sigh when they stopped giggling. “If they ever get custody, I’ll run away.”

She placed a hand on his leg. “You won’t have to run. I’ll be there with you.”

“Are you okay? They were pretty shitty to you tonight.”

“I’m not that bad. Although I might open a bottle of wine and be unfit to drive in about an hour.”

He smiled. “I’ll stay away from sharp objects and a need for the ER.”

Rachel patted his leg and left his room.

Once downstairs, she made good on her threat and opened a bottle of merlot.

Don’t leave me hanging. How did the rest of the night go?

It had been an hour since Owen’s last text, and Jason felt as if he was watching the last episode of the season and needed to know the outcome of the show.

They started a fight about my mom.

Jason was ready for a snarky remark and didn’t see Owen’s words coming.

No!

Yeah, the hag has no right.

No, she doesn’t. I’m sorry, Owen.

My mom and Rachel warned me about them. I didn’t expect adults to act like kids.

Jason started to give advice. You’re more grown up than a lot of people twice your age.

Don’t talk too soon. I might have told the hag and the hag’s husband that you were Rachel’s boyfriend just to get them to shut up about me needing a male influence in my life.

Jason smiled at that thought. I’d call that thinking on your toes and using the resources surrounding you. Very smart.

It kinda backfired. The hag tossed it back at Rachel, saying she was bringing men around the house.

He squeezed his eyes closed. Poor Rachel.

How is Rachel?

She said she was going to suck down a bottle of wine. I haven’t seen her do that since before my mom got really sick.

Should he call her?

What is the hag’s real name? Looking up hag on the Internet probably wouldn’t do any good. Owen gave him both their names, which Jason wrote down.

Let me know if you need me. I’m not far.

I will. Thanks.

Jason took his laptop from his office and settled into the den. He stretched out and typed in the old hag’s name.

Chapter Eleven

Two glasses of wine and Rachel’s head spun. Since when was she such a lightweight?

It didn’t help that she’d barely eaten, but still, the wine did the job of relaxing her shoulders. For an hour after the Colemans left, she researched custody cases in Connecticut. Just like in California, the favor would be for the Colemans, and most definitely TJ, if he in fact wanted to fight. If they were going to be complete assholes, she wouldn’t have a choice.

She knew they wouldn’t have kind things to say about Em, but she hadn’t expected them to put the woman down. Didn’t they realize they were ruining any relationship with Owen by doing that? Or were they that stupid? People used to getting their way all the time did tend to lack the common sense gene.

“I see why you didn’t nurture a relationship with these asshats,” Rachel said to the ceiling.

Emily had told her early on that Owen’s grandparents were opinionated snobs. Information she’d managed to get through TJ. They’d never attempted to know Emily or Owen until after her passing. Rachel often wondered why that was but couldn’t question Em now and certainly wasn’t going to quiz the Colemans.

Rachel yawned as her cell phone rang.

Jason’s name lit up and she smiled.

“Hello?”

“Hey, how was it?” he asked.

She closed her laptop and flopped back on her couch. “Awful. A zillion shades of horrid.”

“You want to talk about it?”

She did, for a good half an hour. And Jason listened. “It’s as if she didn’t get any reaction from any of her complaints until she hit the right button. Telling Owen his mother was anything but a saint, and wham. Game over. He beat me to it. I wanted to hit the woman.”