Chapter 1

My mother, Angela Turner, is a forty-two-year-old widow who occasionally dates. Her dates consist of dinner at the finest restaurants, a trip to an art museum, a theater date and occasionally the ballet, an opera or the symphony at the concert hall. That was about it. She was never out later than midnight unless the play or ballet ran long. As a matter of fact, four dates were about as many as she ever had with any man since my father passed away. Once they wined and dined her, took her to art exhibitions and concerts featuring Mozart and Brahms, which she insisted she just had to attend and then found out my mother wouldn’t put out, they looked for easier and cheaper prey.

That was until Mr. Michael Brennan came to call. Oh, he wined and dined her, took her to the places she wanted to go and brought her home by midnight. This was their fifth date. I figured he had his run at her. It was time to drop her at the curb instead of opening the car door and walking her to the door.

My mother never came home late, so I always waited up for her. I watched from the window as Mr. Brennan came around and opened the car door for her. He helped her out of the car and walked her toward the house. Okay, here was a guy who was a little slow on the uptake. Then my jaw dropped. They turned toward each other just as they stepped onto the porch, fell into each other’s arms, and kissed ... and then kissed again. My mother was on her tiptoes with her arms tightly wrapped around his neck like she was actually enjoying it as she pressed herself against him. I watched in awe as his hand slid up my mother’s side and cupped my mother’s breast. I couldn’t understand why she didn’t slap him or pull away. She just kept kissing him.