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Mom adjusts her crocodile-leather, apricot-colored handbag over her forearm. She tilts her head to the right, facing our direction without actually looking at us. “Haven't we been waiting long enough, Edward?”
The dig is clear. We've been waiting a year to hear the results of Nana Jo's will.
“Yes, well, Remingtons are prompt and punctual,” my father says with a nod. He holds out his elbow, and my mom rests the tips of her fingers against his forearm. They head toward Robert's Law without a backward glance.
My father might not be as obvious about his general disdain for everyone and everything as my mother, but they're cut from the same cloth. They share philosophies on many, many things in life.
Including parenting.
I'm a fifth generation Carter girl, and proud of it. Growing up, I was embarrassed to not have the same last name as my dad. But now, I'm so grateful to always have a piece of Nana Jo and the generations of Carter women before me.
Nana Jo's grandmother, Ruby Faye Carter, decided she didn't want to take her husband Earl's last name and become Ruby Newby. Pretty revolutionary stuff for the time.
Mom pauses at the top of the steps, glancing at me over her shoulder. “Oh, and Evangeline. Maybe think about a different outfit, hm? That hemline isn't flattering for a woman with your shape. Don't forget, you're a direct reflection ofme.”
Her words hit me right where she intended. They sink into my chest, their poisoned letters embedding themselves into my bloodstream. With each pump of my heart, shame licks at my skin and my cheeks warm.
“Jesus, Eve. She's the fuckingworst,” Cora says, emphasizing the last word. “How you survived that for eighteen years is nothing short of a miracle.” She shakes her head as she takes a deep sip of her coffee.
“Yeah,” I reply, my voice quiet. I keep my gaze on my parents until the door closes and cuts off my view. I inhale and exhale in calm, measured breaths.
It takes effort to shape my mouth into some semblance of a smile. My fingers twitch with the urge to smooth down the fabric of my favorite black skirt.
“Alright, let's go try to eavesdrop on your parents.” She slides her arm around mine, hand curling around my bicep. Our shoulders bump together as we follow the same path as my parents. She leans in toward me like she's divulging a secret. “Is it bad if I hope she gets nothing?”
A laugh catches me by surprise. Not for the first time, gratitude fills my heart for Cora's steadying presence next to me.
I lean my head against her shoulder just for a moment. “Did anyone ever tell you that you're the best?”
“Yes, you. But probably not enough, so feel free to keep reminding me.” I hear the smile in her voice.
“You're the best,” I tell her, all cheek and sass. I reach out and grab the monogrammed door handle. One hefty tug, and the solid oak door swings open. Cool air conditioning pours over us, reminding me of the way a freezer froths over every time you open it when the house is hot.
“Perfect. Want to tell me tomorrow, over breakfast? At the diner?”
My stomach perks up at the mention of Honey Bee Cafe. They have some of the best Belgian waffles I've ever had. “Absolutely, but don't you have work?”
“I go in at four tomorrow, so let's meet at nine? Then I'll head back to the bakery and finish up afterward.”
“Sounds good.”
We both sit down at the navy blue plush loveseat in the waiting room to the right.
After a few moments, I break the silence. “You know, if Nana Jo didn't leave my mom anything, then I don't think they would even be here.”
“True, but a girl can dream, right?” Cora flashes me a cheeky grin.
I raise a brow at her. “Should we try to listen? We don't even know what floor they're taking meetings today. And not that it matters much, but she's going to be so mad if she catches us eavesdropping.”
“Then I guess we better not get caught.” She laughs, tugging me up to stand.
Before we take more than two steps, an assistant appears in the doorway, crushing our silly adventure dreams. “Coraline Carter? You're next.”
“See you after?” she asks me as she crosses the room to him.
“Yep. I'll meet you outside once the coast is clear and my parents are gone.”
Do I sometimes feel weird about the lengths I go to avoid sharing space with my parents? Yes.
