Chapter 93

Dear Jason,

The blinds in your bedroom have strings. Honestly, the things you don't tell me! This is the most fascinating form of amusement. How dare you keep this toy from me? I shall play with it endlessly.

Sincerely,

Storm

Jason grinned and set his cell facedown on the oak table where he'd eaten hundreds of meals as a boy. Shaking his head, he went back to the meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and peas on his plate. The latter he did under duress. Peas were gross. Only for his mama would he force them down his gullet.

Her kitchen had remained unchanged since childhood, as well. Yellow wallpaper with snapdragons in a vertical row that had faded from white to ivory over time. Light oak cabinets matched the table and the formica countertops were an eyesore. The Swedish Chef cookie jar still had a chip in the lid from when he'd been caught sneaking baked goodness. Wear patterns were in the linoleum in front of the sink from her washing dishes.

"Was that her?"