Chapter 6 - The Rental CarWe were carrying her suitcase outside when a rental car pulled up. Owen got out — he must have taken the first flight after seeing my message.
Marguerite groaned. "Oh, for goodness sake."
He rushed toward us. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
He looked at me. "What happened?" Then he saw Desmond. His face hardened. "I knew this was a bad idea."
I closed my eyes. Wrong sentence.
"I knew it," Owen said. "I told you."
Marguerite turned toward him. "And that is exactly why I didn't call you."
He blinked. "What?"
"You think I'm embarrassed because Desmond disappointed me."
"Aren't you?"
"No. I'm angry."
"At him?"
"At you."
Owen looked genuinely confused. Marguerite stepped closer. "Since your father died, you question everything I do."
"I'm worried about you."
"You check whether I've eaten. You ask where I'm going. You call my friends if I don't answer."
"Because I care."
Her voice softened. "But sometimes your concern feels like supervision."
Owen said nothing.
"I stayed here longer than I wanted partly because I knew what you'd say if I left."
"Mom—"
"I wanted to prove I could make one bold decision without needing your approval."
Owen looked crushed. "I never wanted you to feel incapable."
"I know. But I did." She took a breath. "And changing my mind doesn't mean you were right to make the decision for me in the first place."
For once, Owen didn't defend himself. Marguerite looked at him. "Leaving doesn't make staying here stupid. It just means I learned something and changed my mind."
Owen glanced at the suitcase, then Desmond, then his mother. Finally he asked, "What do you want to do now?"
Marguerite blinked. It was probably the first useful question he'd asked all morning. "I want my own hotel, son."
May you like
Owen nodded. His hand moved toward his phone, then stopped. "Okay. Tell me if you want help booking it."
"I will." She booked the room herself.
