Wild Swans - Jessica Spotswood Page 0,49
it out.
“I didn’t have a choice! You were smothering me. I can’t breathe in this house. In this town. I was always Dorothea’s granddaughter, the Professor’s daughter, poor Grace’s—” Her voice breaks on her mother’s name. “New York, DC—they were perfect. No one knows what a Milbourn is supposed to be. No one gives a damn.”
“And that’s how you want to live your life? In places where no one cares about you? Don’t you find that a little bit sad?” Granddad is a man of strong opinions. He hates comic books and broccoli and people who answer their phones during meals. But I’ve never heard him like this. Not when I took Alex’s “damn fool” dare and jumped from the sunroom roof. Not when one of his favorite students got caught plagiarizing a paper. Not even when he read a biography of Dorothea that included very unflattering things about the history of mental illness in the Milbourn family.
And I see what he’s saying, but I also see what Erica’s saying about not getting the room you need to grow and change and be without the weight of Milbourn history crushing you. I wouldn’t put it like she does, but that anonymity…sometimes it looks real appealing.
“I didn’t say no one cares about me. I said they don’t care that I’m a Milbourn. But I can see how you might have trouble telling the difference.” Erica gives him a serpentine smile. “Who would you even be without your wife’s name? Without your famous mother-in-law? Some nobody professor in some nothing town.”
Granddad takes a deep breath, holding on to his temper by the thinnest leash. “I have never claimed to be a perfect husband or a perfect father.” Erica howls with laughter at this, but he plows on. “Or a brilliant scholar, for that matter. Studying Dorothea led me to your mother, and for that I will always be grateful. It gave me three beautiful grandchildren, after all.”
“And one fucked-up daughter you’d rather forget,” Erica snaps. “It’s not hard to read between those lines. You’ll use my girls as your second chance. Your third and fourth chances if I let you. I’ve got a mind to leave before you sink your claws into them any more than you already have. Did you think I wouldn’t find out about the classes you signed my baby up for? Drawing? Gymnastics? Wouldn’t want her to get bored, would we? And you’re so sorry Iz is missing out on her theater camp. Yeah, right.” She turns to Isobel. “Don’t believe a word out of his mouth, Iz. It all comes with strings attached. Every goddamn word.”
“I don’t trust any of you. I want to go home.” Iz fishes her phone out of her pocket. “I’m calling Dad.”
Erica leans over her and plucks the phone from Isobel’s hands. “Absolutely not.”
Iz gawks at her. “Give it back!”
“Not until you’ve calmed down.” Erica shoves the phone in the back pocket of her jeans. “Rick driving over here tonight is the last thing I need.”
“Fine. Whatever.” Iz glares. “I’ll tell him everything when we see him on Saturday. Then he’ll take us home. Gracie and me both.”
“Actually,” Erica says, “I rescheduled your visit.”
Isobel’s face falls. “What? Why? When did you even talk to him?”
“I called while you were putting the movie on for Grace. Told him we have fun plans with your granddad and it would be disruptive for him to come visit. He was glad to hear you were settling in so well.” Erica puts a hand on her daughter’s shoulder.
Iz jerks away. “He’ll know something’s wrong if you don’t let us call him. We call him every night before Gracie goes to bed.”
“Or he’ll think you’re busy, having fun with your new friends.”
“What new friends?” Iz shouts. “All I do is take care of Gracie while you go off and drink!”
I shrink back. Expect Erica to call her a bitch or slap her or something equally terrible.
Instead Erica shrugs. “Whose fault is that? I didn’t ask you to stay in every night. I’m sure Ivy would love to take you to the bonfire this weekend. Wouldn’t you, Ivy? Is it Friday or Saturday?”
“I’m not going anywhere with her,” Iz snaps.
“Isobel isn’t old enough to go to a bonfire party,” Granddad says. As if that is the important thing here, asserting family rules.
“Lucky for you, Iz, your grandfather doesn’t get to decide that.” Erica puts a hand on her daughter’s shoulder again. Laying claim. This time Iz sits stiffly beneath