mailed, along with contacting local vendors to secure their financial support.
Was Momma purposely trying to drive her crazy?
“You know the family’s gathering schedule. It’s tradition we count on.” Momma sounded disappointed, and but did she have to played the tradition card?
“I am the face of family tradition. I’m the one deeded the duty to keep all Fleur de Lis traditions alive—in the future. I can recite the schedule in my sleep, but I can’t put aside my work responsibilities here.” She wouldn’t allow Momma’s tone to sway her from her focus. She couldn’t be running back and forth to Mississippi if she ever intended to have a life of her own, to learn that she was strong enough and truly worthy of the Keeper’s role. Birth order didn’t guarantee she had the talent to protect the legacy.
“Branna Noël Lind, I can’t believe my ears. Are you suggesting that blood isn’t thicker than water? Being Keeper is an honor, not prison time. Do I need to remind you of the benefits you have reaped because you are the first great grandchild?”
“I moved. I didn’t lose my memory,” she muttered. “I have a job, Momma.” With the phone scrunched between her shoulder and ear, she put a milk carton in the fridge.
“Attitude? From you? I expect that from Camilla or one of your cousins, but you?”
The demure, compliant teenager Momma sent off to college years before had grown up. Unlike her siblings and cousins, she had never rebelled. Ever. She always did all that was expected of her. Including caving about going out-of-state for college. That scholarship she gave up had been a huge source of pride. It was awarded because of her work, not because of her family name or due to family influence. But Momma insisted that she had to keep with tradition and attend college in state.
In truth, the disappointment that shrouded her life came when she ended her engagement to Steven. She was still learning to live with embarrassment and humiliation. If she wanted to feel different, only she had the ability to change her life. And that’s what she was trying to do.
Yet, as far as her parents were concerned, her recent departure meant she’d said to hell with rules, and order, and decades of tradition. But that wasn’t true. She took the role of Keeper seriously. She’d worked hard to fulfill everyone’s expectations of an estate manager. But she wasn’t her mother, and she didn’t just love planning weddings. They were a necessary evil that brought in extra revenue to support the estate, which belonged to all of them, though the future care of it rested with her. Beneath her façade of self-confidence, she feared the weight of the entire family’s future on her shoulders.
She feared failure.
After all, she’d chosen poorly when accepting a proposal of marriage. Ending the engagement brought embarrassment to her entire family. Though folks in Bayou Petite had touted her wedding as the event of the decade, that wasn’t reason enough to marry misery. Wanting to spare her loved ones the pain of her humiliation, she had told no one, not Momma or even Biloxi, the reason she’d called it quits with Mr. Steven Sterling.
His betrayal had dumped chaos into her life and rocked the very core of her self-confidence. Would she ever trust herself to lead at Fleur de Lis? Would she ever trust a man again?
“Forgive me, Momma. My schedule is backwards from what the family’s accustomed to. Is Camilla coming home?” She didn’t wait for an answer. It didn’t matter. She’d forgiven her sister, but wasn’t ready for a face-to-face encounter. Camilla’s lack of sisterly loyalty hurt more than she’d ever imagined. It went beyond words. Like a bell, Camilla’s actions couldn’t be unrung. “I’ll be home for the Fourth July and Christmas, but I can’t make it for Memorial weekend, and unless a miracle happens, you can’t count on me for Thanksgiving. Hopefully, next year will be different. Be that as it may, how may I help now?” She pulled food from the grocery bags, setting the items on the counter.
“Design the flyers. I’ll get them printed here.”
“I can do that.”
“Two years, Branna. The clock is already ticking down.”
There was an unmistakable hint of glee in her mother’s voice. “We agreed on two years for your...sabbatical from home. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” She clicked the “end” button on the phone, but before she could put it down, it rang again. “What now?”
“Hmm. I’m guessing you’ve been talking with