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Emma halted in the middle of the living room, thinking, processing this new theory. She could see her parents through the French doors that led out to the professionally landscaped backyard, her mother’s spine uncomfortably straight, her father looking less stern than she ever remembered seeing him.
She took a deep breath and turned the knob on the French doors. Her parents whirled around, her mother exclaiming, “You almost gave me a heart attack! Why didn’t you ring the doorbell?” while her father simultaneously stood and said, “I’m glad you’re here.”
Emma went to her father and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks, Daddy,” she said, smiling into blue eyes so like her own.
“Have you eaten?” he asked and she knew he was trying to tell her she was welcome in their house, no matter how her mother reacted. She loved him for that, glad to have him on her side as she treaded into muddy waters with her mother.
“I’m not hungry, Daddy. I wanted to come and talk to both of you, that’s why I’m here.”
Jane’s mouth was a firm, tight line. “Unless you have come to apologize, young lady, we have nothing to talk about.”
Emma stared at her mother. It was like looking in a mirror. Apart from her father’s eyes, she’d inherited everything else from Jane. The same height, the same bone structure, the same light hair.
And all of that was okay, just as long as she could put a stop to inheriting her mother’s snobbery and fear of living life. If Emma ever had a daughter, she didn’t want to ever make the mistake of trying to groom her to be a perfect little lady who lived in the shadows of real happiness her entire life. Jason sprang to mind—she’d always thought he’d be a great father—but she couldn’t think about him now.
Rather than crying, storming off, or even automatically apologizing to get back into her mother’s favor, she asked, “What do you want me to apologize for?”
By the way Jane’s hands trembled on her wineglass Emma knew she’d caught her mother off guard. “You know exactly what you’ve done to make your father and me so upset.”
Walter spoke directly to Emma. “I’m not upset with our daughter, Jane.”
Two spots of color splatted onto Jane’s cheeks. “Of course you are.”
Instead of backing down from his formidable wife like he usually did, Walter shook his head. “No. I’m not. What I am upset about is that fact that you two can’t seem to work things out.”
Emma bit the inside of her lip. He had a point.
“Do you know why that is?” Jane spat at Walter. “It’s because your child is willful and spoiled and won’t listen to reason.”
Sadness, rather than anger, bubbled up inside Emma. “Do you really feel that way about me, Mother?”
Jane opened her mouth, but then closed it. “I’ve never been disappointed in you before.”
“Even when Steven and I got divorced?”
“That was a different circumstance entirely,” Jane said in her usual crisp tones. Emma could tell that her mother had composed herself again as she began listing off her daughter’s transgressions. “But this week when we found out that you went chasing off after some boy from college, that you left your business in tatters, that you turned Steven away when he was concerned about you, I could hardly believe you were my daughter. And then, when you treated your father and me so despicably…”
Emma held one hand up to stop her mother from saying anything more. She hoped she could keep track of everything she needed to get off her chest, rather than falling back into her regular pattern of kowtowing to her mother on absolutely everything.
“Jason came to the reunion on Saturday night.”
Jane waved a bony hand in front of her face. “I don’t want to hear all the sordid details.”
“They’re not sordid, Mother. I love him. I’ve always loved him. Marrying Steven was a huge mistake.”
“How can you say that? He was perfect for you. Successful, charming—”
Emma cut Jane off. “I know that’s what you thought, Mother. I married him because I wanted you to be proud of me. I wanted you to be happy. I wanted Steven to be happy. And I figured that I could somehow learn to be happy, since it was what everyone else wanted for me.”
Walter didn’t say anything, but he looked miserable. Guilty, even.
“It’s hard for me to admit, but I’m angry with both of you. For what you’ve done. For the way you treated Jason.” She softened her tone. “But Daddy,” she said, reaching for his hands, “I know you were only doing what you thought was right for me. What father doesn’t want his daughter to marry the best man?
The one with all the right qualifications? I know Jason didn’t look like he was the best man for me. He didn’t have money or connections or even direction. But I loved him anyway.”
Walter cleared his throat. “He certainly seems to have done very well for himself.”
Emma smiled. “If that’s your way of saying you approve, thank you. Although”—her smile fell away
—“there isn’t anything to approve of right now. But that’s not why I’m here. I mean, it is, but only a small part.”
She turned back her mother, who quite surprisingly was sitting quietly and listening, albeit with a vice grip on her rapidly emptying glass of wine. “As for leaving my business in tatters for a week, you’re right. I should have thought things through, made a plan. But at least I learned something important: I’ve made the mistake of not delegating. I could have hired good people and trained them to take care of the office in my absence. Maybe then I could have had a life. Gotten out and met people. Made more friends.
Had some fun. But I wanted to think I was the only one good enough to do the job right.”
Jane spoke up then, her voice a tad gravelly. “No one does as good a job as you can.”
Emma felt a softening behind her breastbone. “Thank you, Mother. Thank you for always telling me I was smart. That I could do anything. It was a great gift. But I’m finally ready to learn to pass on some responsibility to others.”
Walter cleared his throat again. “Very good thinking, Emma.”
Emma beamed at her father. All this time she’d been vying for their praise, but she’d never been able to enjoy it. Simply because she hadn’t learned how to be proud of herself as well.
“As for Steven coming to Napa.” She giggled at the ghastly memory. She couldn’t help it, even though it wasn’t remotely funny. “We all know he doesn’t want to get back together with me.”
