White Space Season 1

nowhere, with her arm suddenly around her granddaughter. “We’ve got to go,” she said, turning to Emma. “Please tell Mr. Conway to have a nice day.”
    Emma’s eyes went wide, then she turned to Jon. “Wait, are you the guy in the movies?”
    He laughed, still kneeling. “Yes.”
    “Oh my God! You knew my mom?”
    Vivian sliced the exchange to nothing, shot Jon a sour look, then led Emma past the dessert table, and to the bright light outside. Jon stood boiling, his hands twitching.
    He turned to leave, then crashed into Cassidy, standing behind him.
    “Sorry about my mom,” she said. “You know, old wounds and all.”
    Jon shook his head. “I understand. He held her eyes. I’m sorry about Sarah, Cassidy.” He held his arms open and Cassidy accepted, allowing him to pull her into an embrace. She cried softly against his chest for a minute, then pulled away.
    “Thanks for coming,” she said. “I didn’t know if you would.”
    He shook his head. “I wouldn’t have missed it.”
    After an awkward silence, Cassidy said, “Thank you. She would have wanted you here.”
    Jon swallowed, trying to work up the courage to ask the question on his mind.
    Cassidy looked back where her mother and niece went to, and said, “I should probably get going.”
    “Okay,” he said, saying goodbye with an awkward hug.
    He felt as if he were hugging a ghost.

    * * * *

CHAPTER 4 — Milo Anderson

    Wednesday
    September 6
    1:17 p.m.

    Milo sat in his bedroom, hating everything on the other side of the door.
    His dad was gone, like always. Beatrice, or “other mother,” as Milo called her, sometimes to her face and always when she wasn’t around, was left in charge of the house.
    Milo’s dad worked as an analyst for Conway Industries. While most people who worked for the company lived on the island, or on the mainland, Milo’s dad was out of the state more often than not. Milo figured his dad was good at his job given the money he made. Beatrice was good at hers, too, though her job was much easier since her main duties apparently were to spend his money and be a bitch.
    According to Beatrice, Milo just didn’t appreciate her or see things from her perspective. She said that as far as hard jobs went, being a stepmother was right up there with being an air-traffic controller. Milo thought that was bullshit, particularly since he was 17 and practically an adult. He wasn’t sure what she did on any given day that could be deemed a parental responsibility, save for the occasional dinner she made.
    He’d given her plenty of chances, but she’d blown every one, starting with the day his dad announced they were getting married. She stood beside him, smiling like she was standing in an open vault, and said, “You can call me Mom!”
    Thanks Beatrice, you evil bitch.
    She wasn’t his mother, and never would be.
    It was hard enough that his mom vanished without a trace when Milo was 12. Even harder when everyone thought she was one of many victims to jump from Tanner’s Pass, and her father had her declared dead.
    Perhaps his father could replace her, but that didn’t mean Milo had to accept Beatrice.
    He hated how she always tried to insert herself into his life and get her to call her “mom.” The worst was when she started her sentences with, “Your father and I always …” as though she had to constantly prove their union by broadcasting the great times they were having when Milo wasn’t around, making it all too easy to imagine doing everything from spending money Milo’s father actually had to work for, to doing things in the bedroom Milo didn’t even want to think about.
    Milo still remembered the minute he went from merely wishing she wasn’t in his life to actually hating her. He had been caught getting drunk with Manny, and the next day had come home to a “family meeting.”
    He sat on one couch while his “parents” sat on the other. Beatrice said, “Did your mother bring you up to do that?” while his dad sat beside her, either wondering the same thing or acting like too much of a coward to say otherwise.
    Milo had hated her ever since. His mother wasn’t an alcoholic. And she wasn’t a drug addict, despite the rumors. She was clinically depressed and on several medications, any of which might explain her disappearance.
    Beatrice called from the other side of the door. “Milo, honey, I’m making lasagna. Would you like it with sausage or without?”
    Milo ignored her, like he had for