freely to local causes now.
She tried to mentally rehearse what she’d say. I know the truth about you yet I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt regardless. I have a reason to be mad at you because you drove Dad to his death, what’s your excuse? Why do you hate me so much?
All valid questions but she knew when she came face to face with Gladys, her calmly rehearsed questions would mean nothing unless her mother actually wanted to listen to reason for once.
As she turned into the circular driveway, her hands gripped the steering wheel tighter so she wouldn’t be tempted to keep going and drive out the other side. Every muscle tensed and she broke out in a sweat, a typical fight-or-flight reaction she’d had since she was a kid and Gladys would glare at her like she was a giant inconvenience.
Gladys must spend her entire day looking out the window because Jane had barely parked and stepped from her car before the front door opened. Today her mother wore a bottle green jumpsuit that made her look like she’d stepped off a catwalk. Her hair was styled in a chignon, showing off the emerald studs in her earlobes. And she wore heels, three-inch stilettos. Who did that when lounging around at home? Gladys Jefferson did, because life was all about looks for her. She didn’t care about anybody else.
‘Jane, what a lovely surprise—’
‘Save your pleasantries,’ Jane said, pushing past her. ‘I’ve got something to say and it’s long overdue.’
‘By all means, make yourself at home,’ Gladys muttered, her sarcasm something Jane was well used to.
Jane stomped into the study because it was the nearest room. When Gladys entered, Jane slammed the door.
‘These theatrics are beneath you—’
‘I know!’ Jane yelled, immediately regretting the outburst. She’d vowed to be calm for this, knowing indifference would hurt Gladys more than drama. ‘I know why you never bonded with me and why you drove Dad to his death.’
‘I don’t know what you think you know—’
‘I heard that last argument you had with Dad before he drove into that tree.’
‘That’s nonsense. Your father didn’t kill himself. It was an accident.’
‘Was it?’ She pinned her mother with a disgusted glare but, predictably, Gladys didn’t flinch. She’d put in too many years presenting a perfectly poised front to let her mask slip now.
Her mother waved her away like a bothersome fly. ‘I don’t know why you’re bringing up all this pointless speculation now.’
‘Because this is the end, Mother. I’m done playing your game.’ She snorted, an unladylike sound she knew Gladys hated. ‘Haven’t you ever wondered why I never moved away? Why I stay in this dead-end town where everyone knows everyone else’s business?’
Gladys opened her mouth to respond and Jane held up her hand. ‘I’m not interested in anything you have to say. I stayed because the moment I heard that argument between you and Dad, I knew I couldn’t leave.’ Jane jabbed a finger at her mother, surprised when she flinched. ‘Because I wanted to make your life a misery, exactly like you made mine and Dad’s.’
For the first time in a long time, Gladys appeared uncertain. Her gaze darted away, only to return to Jane, before sliding away again. Jane supposed she was trying to come up with some plausible excuse for what Jane had heard on the day her perfect world came tumbling down.
‘Even after that awful night, I gave you a chance. I thought you might need time to grieve, to get past your guilt, so I left you alone out of respect. Then I came to you later, thinking it was long enough for you to deal with everything, hoping you’d open up to me. I wanted you to confide in me, to say it had all been a horrendous mistake, an argument that had gone horribly awry. And what did you do?’ Bitterness tightened Jane’s throat. ‘You made me feel bad for staying away. And you blamed me for the crappy relationship we’ve had since I could walk.’
Gladys blanched, her pallor more startling than before. ‘You’re right, I did feel guilty.’
‘So why did you take it out on me? I heard everything. How you only had a child as an adjunct to secure your perfect life. As a way to keep your rich husband, when you’d never wanted a child in the first place. How I meant nothing to you. How you despised Dad for fawning over me. That you hated him and wished