On purpose.
Well, it seems like my time has run out. When I slam my car door closed, a car which has seen better days considering I think I’m its third owner, the front door of the house opens.
Barbara appears and her clothes look expensive, even at a distance. Her blonde hair is teased high, and I have to wonder if the smell of hair spray follows her everywhere; like it never goes away kind of follows. Crystal’s hair is pulled back into a severe ponytail that has to be a miracle of modern gel with how slicked back the thing is.
She looks bald and the black ensemble she has on isn’t helping matters. Lots of angles. But it’s probably worth more than I make in a month. Or more.
They look ridiculous.
And terribly angry.
Barbara stomps down the porch steps, her fury palpable in the air. “And just who might you be? I hope you’re about to tell me Rosalie,” she spits the name with disdain, “has finally stopped sucking this family dry and you’re the new cook.” Her eyes roam over me and her mouth twists to the side. “We need to have a conversation about the dress code, clearly.”
“Ma’am,” I start and she gives me a blank look, “I’m not the new cook. Rosalie is visiting her new grandbaby.”
Barbara’s face twists up and Crystal scoffs from behind her. She barely made it down the stairs in the heels she’s wearing without falling on her face so I’m not sure what she has an attitude about.
She looks like Bambi with the way she’s walking. I don’t think she has anything to be all that smug about.
“Okay,” Barbara holds her head up and looks down her nose at me. Literally. “Then who are you?”
Of course, she wouldn’t know someone who has lived in this town right alongside her. Honestly, I didn’t expect her to know me, but the rudeness is more than a little uncalled for.
I’m not sure Ford even knows they’re here. Our plan was to meet in the barn. I’ve never ridden before and I’m a little afraid of horses.
We’re starting small with introductions today. This way everyone involved can get comfortable. Have you seen how big horses are? I want them to be comfortable too.
Maybe the horses won’t even like me. I’ve seen it in dogs, why not horses?
“My name is Arden Mathis.” I stick my hand out between us, but I’m not surprised when neither woman takes me up on the offer to shake.
I wasn’t really expecting they would, but it would have been rude not to offer. They might not have a problem being rude, but that’s on them, not me.
“I see.” Barbara’s lip curls up as she looks me over again. She shifts while superiority she thinks is real drips off her. “Isn’t your mother named Ginger?”
“Yes, she is. She’s a nurse in town,” I remind her because how can you really have something nasty to say about people who devote their lives to the health of others?
Barbara has no such issue.
“Sad thing,” her voice is dripping with fake sincerity that is sickly sweet, “the lot of you. I remember when you arrived in town. The gossip mill was full of pity, but I always figured you stick it out when you’re married.” She waves a hand at the beautiful land beyond the house; the land I would live a thousand lives to see over and over again. “Look at what I had to put up with because of who I married. I didn’t realize what being a rancher’s wife meant, and I was the one who ended up being trapped.”
My eyes widen and I sputter, “W-wh-what?”
Crystal shifts uncomfortably, which is a feat in the heels she’s toddling around in.
“Oh,” Barbra bats her hand in my direction, her tone dismissive, “you heard me perfectly fine.”
I clear my throat, my love for Ford keeping my feet in place because there is no way I would ever leave him to deal with these women alone. Well, Crystal has yet to show her true face. There could be hope for her still.
“I think your situation and my mom’s situation were a little different,” I point out, my jaw clenching and making the words taste like glass.
“Yes,” she sighs, her voice seeming to ring out much farther than the space between us, “but then she shouldn’t have kept giving him a reason to remind her of her place.”
The look on her face is full of pity that is just as fake as her breasts. Crystal’s mouth drops open before she snaps it shut. For a moment, I’ll admit, I don’t quite know what to do.
Having this kind of conversation, if you can call it that, is not something I’m used to having. I’m unprepared, even I can admit as much. And I might be out of my depth.
But the audacity of this woman, the venom and barbed personality is shocking.
