The Touch of a Woman by K.G. MacGregor Page A

the place. He comes in practically every afternoon and tells me so-and-so is coming for dinner, or we’re going to their place. I have to drop whatever I’m doing and get ready.”
    Though it sounded like a complaint, Ellis recognized the familiar dynamic. Her father was king of the castle—his plans, his preferences, his rules. In all her life, she couldn’t name a single time her mother had pushed back.
    Her brother Stan, two years older, ruled his family the same way. While his wife Peggy acquiesced to his dictates, they’d struggled with their four children, all of whom resisted the rigid discipline. It was a constant source of friction in their home, one Ellis had worried would spill over with her own children.
    She told herself often she was nothing like her mother, that she would have stood up to Bruce had he been too strict or selfish. As it was, he’d left the major child-rearing decisions to her.
    “You should think about staying then, Mom. Or at least consider parking the RV and driving home in the car.”
    “It’s up to your father…whatever he wants to do.”
    It was silly to worry about her parents. Though her mom was quick to harp on her life, she didn’t want advice on how to make it better.
    “I wish you could be here for Christmas. All the kids are coming to Sacramento. Bruno too. You remember him…Jeremy’s boyfriend.” She added that just to get under her mother’s skin. They’d never accepted the fact that their grandson was gay.
    “Your father’s smoking a turkey. Did I tell you he bought a smoker?” She completely ignored the reference to Bruno, and launched into a detailed description of their latest cooking fad, followed by a rundown of their menu and the various neighbors who would be in attendance.
    Ellis set her phone to its speaker function and listened politely, all the while touching up her nails with a fresh coat of polish. The monthly call gave her a chance to keep track of her parents’ well-being. Though her father repeated himself more often and her mom complained of arthritis, their health was generally good.
    “That’s all I have on this end, Ellis. Tell everyone Merry Christmas from us, okay?”
    She ended the call, noting as usual that her mother hadn’t asked how she was doing. Her parents had erected a wall between themselves and the shooting and its devastating aftermath. No regard for the suffering of their daughter and grandchildren, no concern for their financial struggles. As if it hadn’t happened at all.
    Waving her hands to dry the polish, Ellis returned to the living room and peeked through the blinds. Summer’s car was in its space. She’d missed their workout, which was unusual for a weeknight. What else was there to do in Sacramento on a Monday evening?
    Her interest in Summer had grown over the weekend as she considered whether or not to confide in her about what brought her to Sacramento. Sometimes she wished she could follow her parents’ cue—forget it all, pretend it never happened. In a way, that’s what she’d intended when she reverted to her maiden name. Gil had promised not to share her story with anyone at Vista , so there was no reason for her to bring it up.
    Except the suffering continued, and would until every single party involved in the shooting agreed on a financial settlement. The insurance adjusters, the building management, the security company. The attorneys seemed hellbent on dragging out the process, whatever it took to justify their fee. All she really needed was enough to provide for her children—get Jonathan and Allison through college, and help Jeremy get his business off the ground. A nest egg would be nice. Until the lawsuit was settled, she faced nothing but grief and uncertainty.
    Summer had known misery too, and surely had grieved her relationship with Rita. No matter how serious their problems, a person couldn’t spend that many years with someone and not feel a hole once she was gone.
    It was interesting