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“Say hi,” Carly parrots.
I’m about to lose my cool and give her a lecture about proper manners, but Dorothy lays her hand on my arm.
“You can call me Dorothy.” She takes the chair opposite Carly and looks up at me expectantly.
I get it. She wants me to leave. “Coffee, tea?”
“No, thank you.” She’s pleasant, but firm.
“All right, then.” I close the door, hoping to God Dorothy will accomplish what neither me nor Sylvia is able to do––get Carly to open up.
While the women are talking, or hopefully talking, I clear the table from our late breakfast, and feed Oscar. He’s got a new brand of food, the same as Bruno. With the price on the tag, they must put gold flakes in the kibbles. The brand’s worth its weight in gold, though, because Bruno’s allergies have disappeared, and Oscar’s coat is thick and glossy. Bruno’s food is delivered to our door from our local vet. I pay the bill. No cat food is included. The specialty food isn’t available at supermarkets. If Valentina doesn’t order it with our daily groceries, where does it come from?
Magda walks into the kitchen, dressed up in her black and white Chanel suit. “Where’s Carly? I want to invite her for lunch.”
I cross my arms, and lean on the counter. “Where?”
“The McKenzies.”
My back immediately turns rigid. “Not interested.”
“Come on, Gabriel.” She props her clutch bag on her hip. “Carly’s never going to take your place. She hasn’t got it in her. Our only chance is finding her the right husband.”
“I said no.”
She advances two steps, stopping short of me. “Do you have a cleverer idea? What if something happens to you? Or me? Who’s going to take over our business? Not that gold-digging, ex-wife of yours. Word’s going around she’s got her sights set on Francois. If she marries him and we can’t provide a successor, that slimy rat will take over as Carly’s stepdad. Is that what you want?”
Acid burns my mouth. Francois is a pretty boy five years Sylvia’s junior, but that’s not what’s bothering me. It’s the idea of him playing stepdad to Carly that I can’t digest.
“Answer me. Is that what you want?”
“Is that all you care about, finding a successor for the business? What about Carly’s happiness?”
“Happiness?” She laughs. “Carly is my granddaughter, but by God, she’s a spoiled child. You got her used to this.” She waves her arms around the room. “You give her everything her heart desires. You think she’s going to ever settle for less? I don’t think so.”
“Don’t project your sentiments on Carly.”
“Oh, money is as important to her as it is to me. Let’s face it, even if she’s not a leader, she’s a Louw. She’ll do her duty for our name.”
“Don’t you dare treat her like a pawn in your business. Carly’s not going to lead the life I live.”
“The life you live? You want to live the life of one of our debtors? Want to see what it’s like on the poor side of the fence? Do you know what happens to you and your daughter at night when you don’t have enough money for an alarm system that criminals can’t break through?”
“I know what happens. I’ve seen it.”
“You haven’t felt it. Believe me, you don’t want to live any other life than this life.” She scrutinizes me. “You’re getting soft, Gabriel. It’s that girl, isn’t it?”
My hackles rise. “She’s got nothing to do with this. Valentina or no Valentina, I’ll never marry Carly off to Benjamin McKenzie.”
“I hope for your sake you’re growing tired of fucking your toy.”
Every muscle in my body tenses. My injured leg protests against the strain. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“A cat only plays with a mouse for so long before he goes for the kill. Why isn’t she dead, yet?”
My heart drops like an ax splitting wood. “I’m not ready.”
“I’ve been patient with you. I gave you the toy you so badly wanted. We made a deal. Now I’m giving you a direct order. Kill her, or I’ll do it for you.”
I almost jump on her. I’m a hairbreadth away from her face before I stop myself. “You’ll do nothing for me, do you hear me?”
“You have one last chance. Make it sooner than later.” She smiles sweetly. “You’re not twelve any more. Don’t make me shoot you in the foot.”
My vision goes blurry. I’m about to strangle my own mother in our kitchen. The only thing that stops me from reaching for her scrawny, white, wrinkled neck, is Carly’s figure that appears in the doorframe.
There’s a chill in her voice. “We’re done.”
“I’m going out for lunch, Carly dear. Why don’t you join me?”
“Magda is having lunch at the McKenzies,” I say, knowing how much Carly hates Benjamin.
“No thanks, Gran. I’ve got homework.” She trots down the hallway, pretending I don’t exist.
