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It was that every slight she received seemed to only go one place. She never gave it back to my mother.
Instead, she passed it on. To my girl.
"Mother," I said loudly, my tone curt. "Enough. Get away from her."
"Stay out of this," she snarled at me, looking deranged.
"No," I said firmly. "Let the woman do her job and leave her be."
"This woman is too stupid and simple to do her job," my mother told me tremulously, and I wondered which personality I was dealing with today. "That is my problem. This is what I get for hiring trash to clean my house."
"Just stop. Go to your room," I softened my tone, because sometimes that worked with her, though nothing inside of me remained soft toward my mother. She'd stomped out every tender feeling I had for her a very long time ago. "I think you need to lie down. Maybe take something? This isn't like you." That was a lie, but sometimes lies worked with her too.
My mother studied me like I studied her—like she wasn't quite sure how to handle me today.
"Perhaps I will." She dropped the spoon and moved to me, taking my arm. "Walk me. I feel a bit weak."
I walked her dutifully to her room, because I knew well to keep up appearances, even in front of the staff.
I thought that was the end of it, but as I began to move down the hallway, she called me back into her room.
"Yes, Mother?" I asked her. She was lying on her bed now, looking like a delicate doll against the pillows.
She smiled serenely at me. "If you correct me in front of the help again you will be sorry. Scarlett will be even sorrier. I'll make sure of it. You're little cum-dumpster will pay the price for your insolence."
Fucking triggered. I went for the jugular. "Stay the hell away from Scarlett. If I catch you saying or doing one fowl thing to, or about her, here's what's going to happen: Your friends at the country club are all going to hear every awful thing you've ever said about them. I've been paying attention, Mother. I've been taking notes. I'll tell them everything. Who will even talk to you again after they've heard what you think of them? It's bad enough you're stuck holding court in this rinky-dink nowhere town—you think if you get ostracized here, that you will ever live it down?"
I had her, I saw it. Still, I took it a step further. "And leave Glenda alone. Quit abusing the staff. I catch you doing it again, I will tell at least one of your friends something interesting that you've said about them. Is that clear?"
She nodded, her face a careful mask.
Round for me.
I went back to packing. My dad was supposed to pick me up at two, and I had to rush to be ready on time.
Still, I was ready at two. Two came and went, then three. Then four.
At five o'clock a car and driver showed up.
"Do I really have to go?" I asked my mother, who had only just emerged from her wing of the house.
"Of course you do. It's part of the deal."
"He didn't bother to show up himself, and even his driver is three hours late."
She shrugged, completely unaffected. "So? A deal's a deal. He has you for the weekend. Go."
"I don't want to go. I want to stay with Gram instead."
"It's interesting that you think any of us care what you want. Now go."
It was hopeless. My mother had never been any help in dealing with my father, and she clearly wasn't interested in changing that.
I went with the driver.
I hated visiting my father. Living with my mother was obviously no picnic, but I'd learned how to deal with her and stay largely out of her way.
Leo was a different and less familiar challenge. Who knew what awful things he had planned for me this time?
