Page 110

“No.”

It comes out flat and doesn’t shake. I have no idea where it came from.

“This is my home now. These people are my family. And if my choosing them means you forget you ever had a daughter…then forget me.”

It stings to say it out loud. She thinks she wants me happy. What she wants is for me to be the thing that makes her happy, and she’s never once been able to tell the difference. “Don’t come back here.”

She looks at me, really looks, and her polish slips. Underneath it, I catch something that isn’t anger at all. It’s closer to fear.

“You have no idea what you’re turning your back on.” She reaches up and tugs at her earring, and stops. “Or what you’re walking into.”

I don’t ask. Three months ago, I would have.

“Ellery.” She says it quietly, the way she did when I was small and had pleased her. “I see now that you’re a strong, capable woman. You’ve done everything we asked and excelled. I’m proud of who you’ve become. We haven’t told you that enough.” Her smile is tender as she leans in. “Give us a chance to show you what you could achieve with the company, prepare you, and if you still don’t want it, you can pick your own successor when the time comes.”

And God help me, I want it.

Twenty-four years of reaching, and the door finally swings open. See? They were watching after all. I have to put both hands flat on the table.

My throat tightens. I almost say yes.

Then I see it for what it is. A lie. The same placating performance I used to give her, turned around and aimed at me. It’s a lure, baited to catch me and pull me in before the switch. She isn’t seeing me. She’s seeing the moves between here and what she wants.

Letting that secret desire go is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Accepting I’ll never be good enough for her as I am. I will never hear her praise me without an agenda behind it—that takes its toll. Setting adrift a part of me that’s been the core of my identity for so long comes with its own kind of grief.

“No.” I hold her stare. “Maybe you do finally see me, but you’ll never want anything for me that isn’t also for you. I’m done trying to be good enough.”

The urge to apologize is missing.

She sits back, recalculating, and puts me down with the same resignation she’d have for a dress that doesn’t fit or an appliance that’s broken. My mother has nothing to offer me and nothing to threaten me with.

A couple of the regulars near the window have set down their forks. Marthe stands a few tables off, pad and pencil forgotten in her hand. Nobody is pretending to eat anymore.

My mother takes them in one by one. The door, the kitchen, the four people at the counter, the door again. I expect her to chastise me for making a scene, airing our business so publicly, but whatever sum she arrives at, it’s final.

“How nice.” Her chin lifts. “You’ve made friends.” She says it lightly, but she’s gathering her purse and coat.

“I’m sure you have a car waiting,” I say, “and a flight to catch.”

“I do.” She drops some bills on the table. At the edge of the booth, she pauses and looks down at me. “When you change your mind, darling, you know where we are.”

“I won’t.”

She doesn’t respond. Then she’s walking out the door. I watch the window until I’ve lost sight of her.

Marthe slides in across from me. “You okay, hon? That can’t have been easy.”

“No,” I admit. “But it’s done.” For once, I’m not bracing for the next blow, not running the angles of how she’ll come at me again. I said the truest thing I’ve ever said out loud, and the sky didn’t fall.

Marthe reaches over the table and covers my hand with hers, and the last of the tremor in me eases.

“You stood up for yourself.” She nods at the door. “Not many could. Most would’ve folded to make her stop talking.”

I let out a wet laugh. “I almost did.”

“But you didn’t.” She glances around at the cafe, at the regulars easing back into their meals and their conversation like nothing happened. “And you’re not doing the next part by yourself. That’s not the same as someone doing it for you.”

The knot in my chest loosens.