Read The Truth About Mallory Bain for Free Online

morning is routine for you. A slothful waste of time, Mallory Anne.”
    I kept quiet, not wanting to deal with the most sanctimonious woman on earth. A melancholy soul, always dressing in gray—not that I ever understood why. She’d worn her dull brown hair styled in a short bob with side-swept bangs since before I was born, according to the family album.
    The woman slithered to the table, and with an air of self-importance, seated herself beside Mom. Her bony forefinger poked at and slid around the puzzle pieces directly in front of her. She glanced down her nose at me now and then.
    More intimidated by Judith than strange voices or apparitions, I resolved to limit my interactions with her.
    Mom tapped the top of Judith’s hand. “Quit picking on my girl. She’s worn out from her long drive yesterday.”
    Judith sipped her coffee and sniffled. “Carpe diem, I always say.”
    I sniffled right back and rose from my chair. “Trite.”
    After giving a smile and a nod to Nora, she moved the vacuum into Rick’s former room without hesitation.
    I freshened up and dressed before lifting my suitcase onto my bed, which Nora had already made, although making beds was not expected. I pushed aside the divorce papers laying on the bed to make room for a pile of slacks and tops.
    Chad, with all his pent-up resentments, was no doubt feeling pleased today. He’d voiced enough regret and I’d cried my tears. No second thoughts or longing for what might have been with him. I was satisfied knowing because he cheated on me, in time he’d cheat on her.
    I’d taken back my birth name—Mallory Anne Bain—a last-minute decision, but smart to break more ties to Chad. Keeping Powers for Caleb was impractical because his biological father was that nice Canadian young man—Benjamin Caleb Holland. My next legal move was to give our son his proper surname, Holland.
    After setting up a coffee time and spending a few minutes on the phone with Dana, I tucked my laptop under my arm and jogged back downstairs.
    I saw Aunt Judith sitting on the veranda through the French doors, her head bent over a hardcover book. Mom leaned over the table beneath the umbrella opened wide. I stepped outside to join them.
    Judith had become morbidly thin over the years, her face gaunt and her unhealthy color drearier than her drab clothes. The September day was warm enough that she’d removed her vest and laid it across the back of her chair. When she bent over to retrieve a fallen napkin, her ribs pressed against the satiny fabric of her blouse.
    She once confessed that she fasted for cleansing purposes, almost always ate organic, and ate a vegan diet since her teens. Seeing ribs, I suspected fasting might happen more often than weekly. Tight finances or a pathological condition could be blamed for her thinness more than cleansing and low-calorie foods.
    Mom busied herself straightening plates and arranging napkins. Judith remained focused on her book. Caleb sat cross-leggedon the veranda’s stone floor. He lined up his cars, then vroomed a shiny silver one to make the first strike against the group of plastic dinosaurs standing a foot away.
    Mother greeted me with a cheery hug, the kind of Mom hug I’d missed.
    â€œWe decided on a picnic,” she beamed. “Such a sunny day.”
    â€œWe’ll have a white Thanksgiving this year.” Judith commented, her eyes glued to her book. “We’ve been saying how the leaves are already turning color here and there.”
    Mom interrupted. “Judith thinks we’ll have rain later on.”
    I looked upward to the sunlight streaming through the tree canopy. “No clouds now. Minnesota does have an early fall and a short fall. I mean, compared to Tennessee.”
    â€œNaturally, Mallory Anne,” grunted Judith. “Tennessee is south.”
    So much for conversation.
    I avoided those piercing brown eyes of hers and spoke