Her home was large and sterile, and Macy hated it. She hadn't bothered to change anything other than one wall, even though her friends had urged her to, because no amount of paint could disguise how ugly it was. Unfortunately, other than her mother, no one else liked the place enough to buy it, so for now, she had to stay here. She'd shut off rooms, and tried to make the ones she and Billy lived in comfortable, but it was still his home. Brian Delray’s palace.
“What have you done to that wall?”
Delany Reynolds looked in horror at the yellow wall she and Newman had painted. He'd urged her to try, and she had, but the house felt the same after so she hadn't done anything else.
“You may have to live here, Macy, but damned if you have to keep it exactly as it was when that bastard was around” had been Newman's words.
“I painted it, Mother. Do you like it?”
“I do not. It's a disgrace. This is the best house in Howling, and you should take pride in it.”
“Just as well you don't live here then, because I have dirty laundry all over my bedroom floor. I’m not even sure I’ve made my bed yet.” She didn't back down to her mother now. Jillian had told her not to, but it was hard. She'd always been intimidated by Delany Reynolds, plus she was her mother, and therefore deserved some respect. “Now what was the reason for you visit, Mother?”
“Is it not bad enough that I have suffered the humiliation of this business with Brian, and my own daughter starting a shop in the main street, I have to see this, in the house that Brian decorated perfectly.”
And just like that the leash on her temper slipped.
“Would that be the same man who beat and raped me. The same man who shot Branna McBride?”
Delany sniffed and lifted her nose in the air. They'd had this particular conversation in many different forms over the last four years. Each one had left her raw and disbelieving. How could her own mother blame her for what was clearly not her fault but that of a madman?
“Branna McBride is a bad influence on you, daughter, as are the rest of that rabble. Why look at you.” She waved a hand at Macy. “Your hair is too long and not styled, your clothes terrible, and your face almost bare.”
“What do you want, Mother?” Macy snapped the words. She would not bother defending herself, she had tried and failed many times.
“I want you to check in on your father later, as I have to go to bridge and the doctor called and said his condition was worsening.”
“And you could not have told me this by phone? Isn’t this your half day looking after dad so Helen can take a break?”
“Helen is staying until I return, and I needed to run some errands. Besides, she is paid to care for him.”
“I cannot believe you are so cold and unfeeling.”
“You would never had spoken to me like that before. It’s the influence of your friends.”
“No.” Macy gritted her teeth. “It’s finally realizing that I actually want to have people like me.”
“I have no time for your theatrics, Macy. Just see that you visit your father.”
Delany Reynolds then sailed from the room, leaving a trail of scent that Macy loathed. Her mother had worn it for as long as she could remember.
Feeling like a tree ravaged by wind after the encounter, Macy headed to the stairs to pack some things to take to Annabelle and Ethan’s. They were having their friends over to celebrate their wedding, and she was looking forward to it.
Buster was waiting in her lounge when she came back downstairs carrying Billy’s bag.
“Hey, you.”
“You all ready to go?”
“I can drive myself there, Buster.”
Her friend wore shorts, a checkered short-sleeved shirt that had the collar turned in, and worn sneakers. His hair was short and spiky and he looked like he’d stepped out of bed in those clothes and kept walking.
“You run that outfit past Willow before you left the house?”
“I can dress myself, so don’t get all smart-mouthed on me.”
“Aha, sure you can.”
