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“Hello, Beth.” I never realized how much my husband sounded like his father until this moment.
“We were hoping we could speak to you.” My mother-in-law, Camilla, stands from where she sits at her husband’s side. When she takes a step in my direction, I take one back. She was always kind to me—as kind as anyone can be in that family. I mean, she advised me on what concealer works best after her son put bruises on my face.
Camilla’s hands are trembling at her side, and I hate when I recognize a small piece of myself in there. It’s the faraway look. The look when you want to be anywhere else but where you are. You become robotic. Your limbs move. You smile when you should. You might even answer some questions when asked. But you are somewhere else entirely in your head.
In your head you can escape.
“Please, sit down, Beth.” Jared nods towards an empty chair.
I don’t want to sit. I want to run, but my legs have turned to lead.
The knife twists when I look at my mother, but her expression is blank, and her eyes never meet mine.
“What have you done?” I whisper, my lungs burning for air.
“There’s things you need to discuss with your family,” she insists.
“My family?”
“Don’t be difficult. Sit and we will speak.”
“I am not sitting down.” With a ragged breath, I close my eyes and pray for some composure. “What do you want?”
“How are the girls?” Camilla asks, her chin quivering.
I laugh when I want to scream. I look around the room but there’s no answer in the walls. “How are the girls?”
They haven’t set eyes on Hannah in two years, and they’ve never met Isabel. Even when I was married to their son, they only saw the girls at family gatherings.
He wasn’t brought up in the warmest environment, but that’s not a surprise.
A knot forms in my stomach, and I want to be sick.
But I can’t let my anger get to me. I knew something was going on before I came today.
Despite the fear turning my blood to acid, I force a smile and say, “They’re good. Happy.”
She seems content with the answer.
“I need to get back to them.”
Jared’s finger taps against the table.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“The business,” he says.
“What about it?”
“What are you doing with it? It’s been two years.”
I try to hide the flinch of shock. They haven’t heard.
Lie and get out of here.
“I haven’t decided.”
“We think it’s in everyone’s best interests if you keep it. The partners will essentially maintain control, and you will take home a monthly salary for the privilege of having your name on the door.” His lips are tilted in a smile, but it’s not warm. “Robert worked hard for that firm. We want to keep it in the family.”
