This caused gasps all over, and no one gasped louder than Christabelle.
“Can this possibly be true?” Dad demanded. “Please tell me it’s all a misunderstanding and you couldn’t be such a feckless idiot to do anything to ruin the best thing that ever happened to you.”
“No—well—I didn’t mean to?—"
“He cheated on her,” Earnest put in, and I had never wanted to strangle him more. “With that woman in the crab costume.”
“Her?” my father cried out in horror as Christabelle attempted to flutter her eyelashes at him. “This ridiculous strumpet?”
“I NEVER,” gasped my mother as servants fanned her. “NEVER. I thought I raised you right.”
They looked at each out in undisguised horror, and I wanted to sink into the ground, especially as I could hear people along Main Street agreeing with them.
“Well spoken, sir!” Mrs. Greenberg chortled.
“We were planning to continue on to our late spring home,” Father said, “but I think we will stop in town here for a few days.”
“I need my smelling salts,” Mother said weakly as the servants attempted to fan her, and Father took her hand. “Come, Claudette.”
I leaped toward them as they turned away in angry majesty.
“Jillian, we are at your disposal,” Dad said, glaring at Christabelle. “If you would like, please, we would love to take you to lunch tomorrow.”
“You’re going to side with her over your own flesh and blood?” Christabelle shrieked, and I remembered, very unpleasantly, why we had split up in the first place. The endless shrieking scenes with the two of us yelling at each other.
When we had been together, I had drunk way too much. Been depressed, reckless.
But when I met Jillian, that all had changed. I stopped pulling my hair out, grew this full, robust mane of golden hair. Had success after success. Had been happy. How had I possibly forgotten this and let dumb misplaced nostalgia guide me?
“Of course,” my mother said coldly. “We will side with Jillian every time.”
Oh hell.
I hurried after them, trying to sneak between the servants.
“I know I did wrong, I’m trying to make it up to her.”
They only snorted.
“I—I’m going to have to leave the—house. Do you think you could—loan me some money for an apartment deposit?”
“Loanyoumoney?” Mom shrieked. “I do not loan idiots money.”
“Get a job,” Dad said without even looking back.
“You can rent a room from me,” Mrs. Greenberg called out. “There’s no air conditioning and I’ll require you to cook me three meals a day. Kosher only, of course. If I see you bring a strip of bacon into this house, I’ll trip you with my cane.”
I slumped my shoulders. Was this what I was reduced to now?
Could things get any worse? Unbridled stupidity, no home, no business, no beloved wife?
Then I saw Cash put a comforting arm around Jillian’s shoulder.
And instead of shrugging him off, she leaned into his touch.
CHAPTER 14
Frankie
