AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I told you. Your father always spoke about wanting to continue his legacy. I’m surprised he didn’t insist you take his last name after marriage,” she replied and got up quickly, moving to leave the room.
Something is off.
“Yeah, but Yvonne just brought Dad’s new will today. You should at least be surprised.” She should be angrier than me, in fact.
“I was surprised, which is why Yvonne and I fought before you came back from your abnormally long bathroom break,” she said as we walked down the staircase.
“You always had fights, so that was normal for you, Mom. You didn’t say anything as Mr. Greensboro explained the will. You just kept texting. Who were you texting?”
“You know, it’s very rude for you to question your mother like this. You’re making me feel like some sort of criminal.” She huffed and rubbed her earlobe.
That was her tell! She always did that when she was up to something or knew she’d get in a little bit of trouble.
“Mom, what did you do!”
“Nothing! So stop accusing me,” she snapped before marching into the living room and taking her seat on her chaise lounge, which overlooked all of Seattle.
The view always took my breath away, but right now, it was the anxiousness that made my chest constrict. I thought back throughout the day, trying to see if there was anything she could have done if she’d left any clues—wait.
“Oh, don’t just stand there, Odette. I think the chef made us some yogurt for an evening snack. Why don’t we have that and—”
“This afternoon, you said, ‘The plan is to trust your mother.’ You weren’t expecting Yvonne to show today, but you knew about the new will, didn’t you?”
“Odette.”
“I know you, Mom—better than anyone—so, I know you won’t stop until I have that money. If you’re this calm, if you tell me to trust you, it’s because you have a plan.”
She lifted her issue of Vogue, flipping the pages casually. “Will you please uncover the yogurt, Sherlock Holmes, instead of interrogating me?”
“Okay, then.” I pulled out my phone, already dialing.
“What are you doing?” she questioned.
Ignoring her, I lifted the phone to my ear.
“Odette.”
“Mr. Greensboro, I’m sorry for calling so late, but I’ve decided to give up on—”
“Have you lost your mind!” She snatched the phone. “Charles, she’s just kidding...” Her face fell when she realized I hadn’t actually hit call. “You are not funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny,” I said back. “I’m just trying to remind you that it’s my money, it’s my life, and if you’re making plans, you need to tell me. I’m not a kid anymore.”
She exhaled and rolled her eyes, sitting back down. “Where is all this boldness when we’re in front of other people? You are always too timid and quiet with them. Then you come and act all tough in front of me.”
“You steal all the oxygen in the room. How can I get a word in?” I shot back. “Now, what are you planning?”
“Will you get the yogurt first? Then we’ll talk.”
“Fine.” I reached for my phone back, but she just held it to herself.
“I’m confiscating this for now.”
“Whatever, and take off the mask already, Mom. Your face is fine,” I replied, then walked around the coffee table and out of the living room to the kitchen to get her beloved fat-free, vanilla and fruit-blended yogurt.
I was about seven when I realized my mom wasn’t like other moms. Maybe it was because I was around that same age when I stopped doing pageants and spent time with “regular” kids, as regular as they could be, anyway. She’d had me at twenty, but my dad said she sometimes acted like a teenager. She was goofy, stubborn, vain, loud, and blunt—unapologetically blunt. When I gained weight, she was the first to let me know. If I were getting too skinny, she’d let me know that, too. If I woke up late for school because she’d let me stay up all night with her to watch a movie, she’d refuse to let me go to school until I was perfectly presentable. There was no such thing as a bad hair day. It was just something that stressed and lazy people made up so as not to put in any effort. She was strict in only one thing, appearance.
If I got a bad grade, all she would ask was whether or not I had tried, and when I said yes, she’d say, “Well, that’s all you can do. Good job.” My father, on the other hand, would lecture me for a solid hour until my mom came to save me.
