Free Too Close to the Sun by Diana Dempsey

until she and Porter took it over. They
transformed it into a light-filled oasis, airy and elegant and yet
supremely comfortable. And it was very California, with skylights
and huge windows and French doors in nearly every room, so the
gardens and terraces were always mere steps away.
    She was just loping around the side of the
house toward the pool and the pergola—where Mrs. Finchley always
had waiting for her a chilled post-run sport drink—when a shiny red
Mercedes convertible careened noisily onto the driveway behind her
and sent up a spray of pebbles, several of which struck her naked
legs.
    Max beamed at her from the driver's seat.
"Like it?"
    She was so taken aback, it took her a moment
to approach the car. It was a sleek conveyance, indeed. She eyed
her son. "Did you purchase this vehicle?"
    His face was aglow. "I most certainly
did."
    "Is buying this supposed to convince me
you're ready to run Suncrest?"
    "What does this have to do with Suncrest?" He
laughed, his smile open and wide, his dark eyes dancing, and for a
moment her heart clenched. She remembered the little boy he had
been—cheerful, rambunctious, and unscathed. Nothing had ever gone
wrong and it seemed that nothing ever could.
    In those golden years, she believed she'd
been a good mother. It hadn't been so much of a burden then, like
it was when he was a baby and it was again when he was a teenager.
During those tumultuous phases it was either more drudgery than she
could take, or more angst—more fights, more disappointments, more
sulks.
    She hadn't enjoyed it. She got into a cycle
she wasn't proud of. Pushing Max onto nannies and into boarding
schools, then feeling guilty and going hugely overboard in the
opposite direction, buying him extravagances, taking him on trips.
When he behaved like any spoiled boy would, how could she be
surprised or angry?
    It was what she had trained him to be.
    She shook her head, suddenly bone tired. "I
just want to know what spending an exorbitant amount of money on a
sports car has to do with Suncrest."
    He shook his head, still smiling, then got
out of the car and approached her across the pebbled drive. "It
doesn't have anything to do with Suncrest." Then he held out the
key. "It has to do with you."
    She frowned. "What?"
    "I bought the car for you." He came closer
and pressed the key into her hand. "Come on, give her a spin."
    It was as though the synapses weren't firing
in her brain. "Max … "
    "Mom." His gaze was steady. "I noticed when I
was driving your car the other night that it's getting old. I
wanted to do something to make up a little bit for the other night,
and I thought of this."
    "But it's too much! It's . . ." Her voice
failed her. It misses the point , she wanted to say, it's
too much, it's not what I need. It's not what I need to see
from you .
    But he wouldn't be dissuaded. "Look, now that
I'm back, we need a second set of wheels anyway. I thought I'd use
your car and you can tool around in this. Don't look so stunned!"
He laughed again and lowered his voice. "It's just you and me now,
Mom. I want us to stick together—I want us to be on the same page.
I know I've screwed up a lot in the past, but I want you to believe
that I'm going to try harder. Say you'll take it, as a token of
goodwill if nothing else."
    She looked for deception in his eyes and
found none. She wanted to believe him. Nothing would give her more
relief or satisfaction.
    Ava eyed the car warily, like it might
explode or take off suddenly on its own. It was beautiful—sleek and
sexy and cherry red, much flashier than anything she'd pick out for
herself. But who wouldn't agree that Ava Winsted was due for a bit
of fun?
    "Come on." Max cocked his head at the car,
grinning.
    "But I'm so dirty, I'll make a mess."
    "You won't make a mess," and he nudged her
toward the driver's door.
    It drove like a dream. She loved the wind
blowing through her hair, and it was such fun to blare the radio
while screaming down the Trail, feeling 21