the ultimate hypocrite, preaching about drunk driving to my child then acting like the rules didn’t apply to me.
My mother and I never had a good relationship to begin with. Being an only child, and a daughter to boot, my father petted and pampered me. Mother never forgave me for distracting my father from her. So, of course she wouldn’t have dreamed of letting me decorate my bathroom or have even considered changing it to fit my personality. Her tastes should be my tastes. Her opinions my own. Her beliefs my own. It took me years to realize how manipulative and controlling she was, and that the root of it all was her jealousy towards me for taking a little bit of my father’s love and attention from her. I hated to admit it, and I would only do it grudgingly to myself, but there were times when Logan and Charlie’s close relationship made me seethe with jealousy. I usually recognized it quickly and pushed the emotion away. I was not going to become my mother. Over the years it had become a delicate balance to distance myself, and my daughter, from my mother’s influence without her, or anyone else, cottoning on to it.
I sighed. “Just get it over with, you coward.”
When I returned, my mother had made me a sandwich (served on a china plate now, naturally) with plain Lay’s potato chips (my favorite) and a glass of ice tea with a sprig of mint in it. I knew the tea would be cloyingly sweet, just the way I liked it. Brenda was pulling out all of the stops.
“I should get back to work.”
“I hear Ray left everything to Nora.” My mom put her napkin in her lap.
Finally. The tension of dread released slowly, like air through a pinprick in a balloon. I sat down on the edge of the chair, telling myself I wasn’t committing to anything and ate a chip, the salt making my mouth water for more. “Apparently.”
“What does she plan to do?”
“She mentioned lighting a match to it, but I think she was joking.”
“She isn’t staying then?”
“In Lynchfield?” My voice rose at the end of the question, but my mother took a dainty bite of her sandwich, seemingly oblivious. “Why would she do that?”
“Emmadean.”
I sipped my tea. It was delicious, dammit. “I don’t think Nora knows.”
My mother raised her penciled-on eyebrows. “I suppose Emmadean doesn’t want to guilt her into staying.”
I traced the letter N into the condensation on the side of my glass. I’d argued with Emmadean about her decision not to tell Nora about her diagnosis, but that sweet, accommodating, loving woman wouldn’t budge. The stubborn streak in the Noakes ran deep. Dormer couldn’t even convince Emmadean, and if he couldn’t do it, God himself wouldn’t change her mind. I expected Mary would be the one to blab so she wouldn’t feel obligated to be in Lynchfield as often. Though I suppose it would be as likely that Mary wouldn’t tell her sister so Nora would feel guilty for the rest of her life for not being here for Emmadean.
“You two seem to be spending a lot of time together.” My mother’s lips puckered but her eyes were downcast as if it took a lot for her to admit it.
“Emmadean’s a good friend.”
“I wasn’t speaking of Emmadean. I saw you drive by with Nora the other day, and you’ve had lunch together and played tennis last night.”
“Wow, I didn’t realize your network of spies was so extensive, Mother.”
“You really should be careful with that woman, Sophia. You know what she does to you.”
“No, Mother. What does she do to me?”
My mother twisted her napkin. “Manipulates you into doing things you know are an abomination against God.”
“How does she do that?”
“Oh, Sophie, don’t say such things. I can’t bear to think of it.”
“On the contrary, I think you’ve put a lot of thought into it. What exactly do you think she does?”
My mother glared at me. “I never trusted that girl.”
“Oh, please. You loved her. Sometimes I think you liked her more than me.”
“She wasn’t as disrespectful as you, that’s for certain.”
I sat back in my chair. “You know, Nora and I probably wouldn’t have become best friends if not for your Christian charity.” My mother scoffed, but I could tell the idea had crossed her mind before. “This all happened because you gave a motherless girl a scholarship for tennis lessons at the club.”
“Coach Cress asked us to.”
“And, it was a very Christian