He held up an emerald ring the size of a doughnut, and my mother was already snapping her fingers as servants began to bring out boxes of high-end luxury clothing and bags.
“My dear, everything looks good at you, I simply could NOT resist.”
Jillian smiled at them, but I noticed her face was a little pale. A little weary. And I felt a horrible stab of guilt at what I had done.
I struggled to justify my own behavior, but there was no defense for it. Young love. . . the one that got away. . . it had been natural to. . .
But no, I couldn’t.
I had been a dog.
“It’s so wonderful to see you,” she said in her sweet voice, as my mother revealed a golden purse covered entirely with diamonds.
“Darling, this old thing was in the Guinness Book of Records! Might be a fun accessory if Frankie ever takes you somewhere NICE.”
She shot a sharp glance at me.
Dad was tutting in disgust as he held Jillian’s hand.
“Maybe she should just go with us on the yacht next time, Claudette. Frankie has not quite been stepping up as he ought lately. When was the last time he even took her to Paris?”
Christabelle was looking more and more outraged, her face turning a mottled beet-red.
Jillian was getting everythingshewanted.
“I guess Frankie hasn’t had a chance to talk to you yet,” she said, laughing in a brittle way. “He’s not with her anymore.”
No!This was not how I wanted them to find out.
I wanted to speak. But there seemed to be something choking me.
Their jaws dropped and my mother staggered backwards and had to be caught by a group of servants, while my father clutched his chest.
“WHAT? Is this true, Franklin?”
“I made a mistake,” I gasped. “I’m—trying to make it right.”
“Frankie and I are soulmates,” Christabelle said, striking a pose and running her hands down her curves in an obnoxious manner that could not have been less seductive. “Our love is timeless and eternal and cannot be bound by any such document like a marriage license.”
I thought I would die of shame to see my parents’ faces at this speech, and Cash’s snicker at it didn’t help.
“Are you telling me you are choosing this. . . person over Jillian?” my father barked out impatiently.
“Yes he is,” Christabelle put in indignantly, “and Jillian’s being very bitter about it. Acting like SHE owns the coffee shop! But I know you’ll help Frankie send her away. Dear Mama and Dear Papa.”
“No, no,” I began to garble weakly and desperately. “That’s not at all what I want.”
But my parents were looking at me with repugnance, as if I was a counterfeit Chanel bag.
“You will never getone pennyfrom me,” Dad said angrily. “Using my money to try to intimidate Jillian? I will never lift a finger to help you try and take the coffee shop from her. Never.”
“He wouldn’t have a leg to stand on,” Earnest put in, as Augustus helpfully scribbled behind him.
Heads began to pop out all down Main Street at this commotion. There was very little privacy in Ramshackle Bay, but this was a new low.
Mrs. Greenberg was even sitting on her porch with a glass of wine and her latest knitting project. The humiliation burned me.
“Your allowance is cut off,” Mom said, vibrating with age. “The stock options, the complimentary Jaguars, everything!”
