fees were due.”
Clenching her jaw, Mary Beth paced the length of her living room. The floorboards of the old Victorian squeaked the protest she couldn’t voice. Give me strength , she prayed.
“Mom,” she said slowly. “You know money’s tight right now. I can barely pay your mortgage and living expenses. The hospital is hounding me about the bills from your surgery last year. There isn’t extra for frivolous garden club fees.”
“Well…If you had taken that job at the bank instead of insisting on running your own business, we wouldn’t be in this fix now.”
Mary Beth breathed deeply and stared out of the floor-to-ceiling windows at bustling Trolley Square two floors below. How many of those pedestrians scurrying by on the street had a clinging, ungrateful mother who…She bit back her unkind thoughts.
“I don’t want to be a banker, Mom. I’m a chef. It’s what I do. What I’m happiest at.”
“Happy?” Dorothy sniffed. “I sacrificed my happiness to put you through that fancy prep school and college.”
“I got scholarships, Mom. To all the schools.”
“So, I didn’t make any sacrifices?”
“I didn’t say you didn’t make some sacrifices. It’s just that things would have been easier had you gotten a job.”
Damn! Too late. She should have kept her mouth shut. Flinching, Mary Beth held the phone away from her ear and prepared for the tirade to come.
“My job was to stay home and raise you, and I did that well. Your father’s duty was to provide for his family. He shirked his responsibilities, running off with that woman and gallivanting around the world.” Her mother’s soft sobs stabbed Mary Beth like an ice pick to the heart.
She collapsed onto the softness of her sofa and grabbed one of the silk throw pillows, pressing it to her stomach as if it could blot out years of humiliation and unhappiness.
Her mother had been screeching this same lament since Mary Beth was eight and Brian Kendrick walked out on them. Born to wealth, a wealth he’d squandered by the time he met Dorothy, Brian had left them for a woman with the money and social standing he’d grown to feel was his right. Her father’s betrayal still made her stomach clench and bile rise in her throat.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I know you sacrificed a lot for me. You even taught me to cook.” The time spent with her mother in the kitchen had brightened her bleak childhood. Mary Beth blinked away tears. “We’re getting on our feet again. Sackett Industries bought controlling interest in our company. Things should be better.”
“Sackett?” her mother said. “Didn’t you have a crush on that wealthy Sackett boy? If you hadn’t been so darn stubborn and independent, you could have snagged yourself a rich husband. Someone who could take care of you. And me. Why do you think I sent you to that fancy school?”
Mary Beth squeezed her eyes shut at the bitter accusation in her mother’s voice. Tom. He had betrayed her too. Just like her father.
“I can take care of myself, Mom.”
“Just like you’ve taken care of yourself so far,” her mother snapped.
Mary Beth counted slowly to ten. “Things will get better. I promise. I just don’t have money for extras right now. Why don’t you find a little job for a while? You’re good with plants. Mrs. Price has been after you to work in her florist shop.”
“I am very good with flowers and greenery,” her mother sniffed.
“Think about it, Mom. I have to go now. I’ll try to scrape together some money for you.”
Mary Beth hung up the phone and clutched the pillow closer, bunching the smooth fabric in her fist and rocking back and forth. Never, ever would she be like her mother, so dependent on a man that she couldn’t function when he left.
An image of Tom pushed into her mind. She had let him get too close the other day in the kitchen. That wouldn’t happen again.
<><><>
Mary Beth transferred warm crabmeat balls and mushrooms stuffed with spinach
Clenching her jaw, Mary Beth paced the length of her living room. The floorboards of the old Victorian squeaked the protest she couldn’t voice. Give me strength , she prayed.
“Mom,” she said slowly. “You know money’s tight right now. I can barely pay your mortgage and living expenses. The hospital is hounding me about the bills from your surgery last year. There isn’t extra for frivolous garden club fees.”
“Well…If you had taken that job at the bank instead of insisting on running your own business, we wouldn’t be in this fix now.”
Mary Beth breathed deeply and stared out of the floor-to-ceiling windows at bustling Trolley Square two floors below. How many of those pedestrians scurrying by on the street had a clinging, ungrateful mother who…She bit back her unkind thoughts.
“I don’t want to be a banker, Mom. I’m a chef. It’s what I do. What I’m happiest at.”
“Happy?” Dorothy sniffed. “I sacrificed my happiness to put you through that fancy prep school and college.”
“I got scholarships, Mom. To all the schools.”
“So, I didn’t make any sacrifices?”
“I didn’t say you didn’t make some sacrifices. It’s just that things would have been easier had you gotten a job.”
Damn! Too late. She should have kept her mouth shut. Flinching, Mary Beth held the phone away from her ear and prepared for the tirade to come.
“My job was to stay home and raise you, and I did that well. Your father’s duty was to provide for his family. He shirked his responsibilities, running off with that woman and gallivanting around the world.” Her mother’s soft sobs stabbed Mary Beth like an ice pick to the heart.
She collapsed onto the softness of her sofa and grabbed one of the silk throw pillows, pressing it to her stomach as if it could blot out years of humiliation and unhappiness.
Her mother had been screeching this same lament since Mary Beth was eight and Brian Kendrick walked out on them. Born to wealth, a wealth he’d squandered by the time he met Dorothy, Brian had left them for a woman with the money and social standing he’d grown to feel was his right. Her father’s betrayal still made her stomach clench and bile rise in her throat.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I know you sacrificed a lot for me. You even taught me to cook.” The time spent with her mother in the kitchen had brightened her bleak childhood. Mary Beth blinked away tears. “We’re getting on our feet again. Sackett Industries bought controlling interest in our company. Things should be better.”
“Sackett?” her mother said. “Didn’t you have a crush on that wealthy Sackett boy? If you hadn’t been so darn stubborn and independent, you could have snagged yourself a rich husband. Someone who could take care of you. And me. Why do you think I sent you to that fancy school?”
Mary Beth squeezed her eyes shut at the bitter accusation in her mother’s voice. Tom. He had betrayed her too. Just like her father.
“I can take care of myself, Mom.”
“Just like you’ve taken care of yourself so far,” her mother snapped.
Mary Beth counted slowly to ten. “Things will get better. I promise. I just don’t have money for extras right now. Why don’t you find a little job for a while? You’re good with plants. Mrs. Price has been after you to work in her florist shop.”
“I am very good with flowers and greenery,” her mother sniffed.
“Think about it, Mom. I have to go now. I’ll try to scrape together some money for you.”
Mary Beth hung up the phone and clutched the pillow closer, bunching the smooth fabric in her fist and rocking back and forth. Never, ever would she be like her mother, so dependent on a man that she couldn’t function when he left.
An image of Tom pushed into her mind. She had let him get too close the other day in the kitchen. That wouldn’t happen again.
<><><>
Mary Beth transferred warm crabmeat balls and mushrooms stuffed with spinach
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