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My eyes knit together in confusion and I quip, “You’ve got one.”
My mother rolls her eyes and I swear in that moment I’ll never do it again. And then I roll my eyes at myself.
I really hate sharing any similarities with her.
“I know about the business in Bristol; I haven’t shared that information with Ed yet,” she says, shocking me.
“I…what?”
My mother drums her pink nails against the teacup before taking a sip. “I admire you, Grace.”
A keening sound which could be mistaken for a laugh leaves my throat.
“I do. I know I haven’t always shown it, and maybe it’s because for years I didn’t understand the validity that came from doing something for yourself, and not just from a man’s affections.”
The amount of self-reflection in that statement is shocking. “Okay,” I say, my eyebrow lifting up for her to go on.
“I want a seat at the table in your business. I want to work with you—like Marion got to. I want us to have that kind of relationship. I want to know my granddaughter and be in her life…I want to be in your life.”
As a child I would have jumped at these words, as a teenager I would have grudgingly admitted I wanted my mother’s love, and as an adult, I craved it. But now, after everything, after learning who she really is and what she’s been all these years, it feels like a ploy. Another prank. And even if it isn’t, it’s devious and cunning just like her.
“If you wanted a relationship with me, all you had to do was ask. I was giving you that chance, Mom. I gave you chance after chance. But this…”—I motion to the room we’re in, to the life she’s been leading—“it’s too much. And what happens if I say no?”
My mother’s eyes dip in challenge, ayou’ve got to be fucking stupid if you don’t know the answer to that. “I’ll tell Edward everything.”
A puff of a laugh escapes, and I look away, trying to keep the pressure behind my eyes in place. “So you think blackmailing me will win over my affection?”
“I don’t want your affection; I want your respect. I want my granddaughter’s respect. I want tobesomeone, Grace.”
“I’ll give you everything I received in the divorce settlement. Go make something of yourself.”
She bites the inside of her mouth, considering, and then gives it a firm shake. “Half the divorce settlement and half the company.”
I raise my eyes to the ceiling. “This isn’t a negotiation, Mom.”
Her lip tips up at the side, almost in a smile but it’s far more sinister. “Oh, but it is. You’re negotiating for your boyfriend’s business. It’s yours or his. Which do you choose?”
The breath seeps from my mouth as I realize she has me. For years I’ve picked my business over everything else.Myhopes,mydreams,myfuture. All of those things were wrapped up in one place—a building, a career.
But she doesn’t realize that it’s not even a choice now. I don’t have to consider what my hopes and dreams are because every single one of them centers around two people, Cash and my daughter.
A business I can rebuild, a reputation I can restore, but our love, our family, Cash’s trust—those are invaluable and irreplaceable.
She can have whatever she wants as long as I protect him. As long as I protect my family.
“Fine.”
My mother’s eyes shoot up to mine, clear surprise even Botox can’t hide.
“Really?”
Over this conversation, I sigh, “Yes, Mother. Now if you don’t mind, I want to get home to Cash. Remember your promise—Edward knows nothing. If he finds out about the business, if you breathe so much as a word—the deal is off.”
She nods.
I move to stand, and the sound of the door slamming makes me jump instead. But it’s my mother’s eyes that lead me to drop my teacup. When the cup hits the table, the hot liquid splashes onto my shirt, and I feel a slight burn against my chest. “Oh fuck,” I mutter, pulling my top away from my skin.
My mother remains focused on the living room, as if she’s waiting for something to happen.
“Don’t just stand there, get me a towel,” I cry, finally giving up and walking to the counter to grab one myself.
Steps echo from the living room in our direction, the staccato of the shoe announcing the impending arrival.
My eyes dart up at the figure which looms between the rooms, his familiar eyes dancing between my mother and me.
I glance at my mother, waiting for her to make the awkward introductions between me and my daughter’s grandfather, when I see the look in her eyes. It’s not one of indifference, or even the fake happiness I’ve watched her exude over the years. No, right now my mother is unable to hide her true emotion, and it’s one of fear.
