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“Except for the fact that the girls aren’t actually twins, Mom.”
“What do you mean? Of course they are. Sienna used to refer to them as her little twins all the time.”
“Sienna referred to them as herIrishtwins. They were born eleven months apart in the same year.”
“Oh.” She rallies fast. “See? This is what happens when you don’t bring the children over to visit their grandparents regularly.”
Wow. I forgot about Mom’s famous backhand. There’s no issue, big or small, that she can’t lob blame back on someone else. She’s an artist at it.
“Why don’t you bring them over this weekend? Saturday is perfect.”
“What’s happening on Saturday?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you only ever mention specific dates when you’re hosting some sort of event and you want to show the kids off like prize ponies.”
“EmmaLorraine!”That makes twice in one conversation that she’s whipped out the middle name. She’s in rare form. “Sometimes, you sound so much like—”
I can hear her breathing hitch up just a little. I wait for her to backpedal or make this out to be my fault, but apparently, she’s shocked even herself. Probably by managing to forget one of her two daughters is dead.
I’m tempted to call her out, but Phoebe is walking back to the table and I really don’t have the emotional bandwidth to keep this conversation going.
“Listen, Mom, I’ve gotta go.”
“Okay.” She actually sounds relieved. “And remember, the offer still stands.”
“What offer?”
“To take the kids. You said it yourself: you’re struggling to provide for them and you refuse to take our money—”
“I’m not interested in taking anything you try to give me with strings attached, Mom.”
Phoebe sits down opposite me, her eyebrows arching.
“Strings? What strings? There are no strings. Your father and I just want to be more involved in the children’s lives. We want to be able to introduce them to our circle of friends, expose them to new people, new opportunities.”
In other words: strings.
“I’ll think about it. Love you. Bye.”
The moment I hang up, Phoebe throws me a curious glance. “What selfless gesture is she offering up today?”
I roll my eyes. “Taking the kids off my hands.”
“That again? I thought you nipped that in the bud.”
“I thought I did, too, but my parents don’t give up that easily.”
Phoebe frowns. “Still—youdodeserve to get some help.”
“If I accept their help, they’ll own me. Beatrice and Barrett may look sweet, but those two are cold, hard gangsters when it comes to their investments. And trust me: the littles are nothing more than investments to them.”
Phoebe sighs. “I know. It’s just a shame. They have plenty of money.”
“They can keep their money. I have my own. And what I don’t have, I’ll earn. With blood, sweat, and tears if I have to.”
And sex.
