whatever you think you’re doing, it’s not going to work.’
‘Yet you’re here.’ A self-righteous smile spread across her mother’s face and Jane’s hand itched with the urge to slap it.
‘If all you wanted was to get me to come home, Mother, you could’ve asked.’
‘I could have, but I doubt you would’ve responded because you persist in this weird vendetta.’
‘No vendetta, Mum, I’m just tired.’ She pinched the bridge of her nose; it did little to ease the pressure building between her eyes. She never got migraines but any clash with her mother always resulted in a headache. ‘During our last conversation many years ago, I gave you the option of salvaging something out of our broken relationship. Instead, you chose to pretend nothing was wrong, then proceeded to make my life miserable.’ She tilted her chin up, defiant. ‘Newsflash, Mum, I’ve wasted enough time trying to get you to acknowledge me let alone open up to me, and I’m done.’
A flicker of remorse flickered in Gladys’s eyes before she blinked, and Jane wondered if she’d imagined it. ‘During our last confrontation, that day when you yelled at me and wouldn’t hear reason, you made it more than clear what you thought of me.’ Her lips thinned. ‘You said you wanted nothing to do with me and if you know me at all you know I never grovel to anyone, least of all my spoilt brat daughter.’
Jane could say so much but what was the point? The yawning gap between them was growing wider every day and it would take a miracle for them to reconcile.
‘I’m not the one with hidden motives, never have been.’ Jane eyed the door, desperate to escape. ‘Stop toying with decent people in this town. Betty’s Bakery is an institution and she’s a good woman.’ And more of a mother to Jane than Gladys had ever been. ‘Their proposed expansion can only be good for Brockenridge, so why would you want to interfere with that?’
Gladys stood slowly, poised and elegant and poisonous. ‘Because I heard you were involved in the revamp and I knew this would get your attention.’
Confused, Jane shook her head. It did little to clear it. ‘Why? You could’ve picked up the phone to do that.’
‘Would you have answered?’
‘This is ridiculous. What’s really going on, Mum?’
Gladys waggled a finger in Jane’s direction. ‘That’s always been the problem with us. You have no idea what makes me tick when I know you better than I know myself.’
Jane glared at her mother, who regarded her with that infuriatingly serene gaze. A small part of her wondered if this was some warped cry for attention. Her mother had already said she’d never grovel. Was this her way of wanting to thrash out their problems after all this time?
‘You need to stop believing the worst about me, Jane. I wish you could understand I’m not the bad guy here.’
Jane had given up trying to figure out what went through her mum’s head a long time ago so she had no hope of understanding what had motivated her mother’s latest showdown. For now, she wanted Betty’s plans to come to fruition and that meant Gladys needed to back down and butt out.
‘Get that sale done,’ she said, her tone frigid.
The woman she’d once idolised stared at her with indifference, then had the audacity to chuckle. ‘Or what?’
Jane could say so much but she swallowed her threats. Antagonising Gladys was not the way to go. ‘Please, Mum, it’s important.’
By her haughty expression, Gladys thought she’d won this round and Jane let her have her victory. If it meant Betty got to build her new bakery, it was worth it.
Jane should’ve waited until the morning to speak to Mason but she wanted to sit down with him and Betty and convince them she’d had no knowledge of her mother’s tactics. Before she could change her mind, Jane parked around the back of the bakery, in front of a quaint cottage where widowed Betty lived. She assumed Mason would be staying with his mum. Nobody returning home would choose to bunk down at the hotel over the pub or the motel behind The Watering Hole. Local folk valued family. Pity her mum had never got the memo.
She marched to the front door, shaking out residual tension like a dog drying off after a bath, and took a deep breath before stabbing at the doorbell. She hoped Betty would answer the door. But when it swung open, Mason stood there, wearing nothing