Chapter 4 - The Cracking Foundation
My mother finally found her voice, but unfortunately, she immediately threw her full weight onto Paige’s side of the scale.
"Kristen, be reasonable. This doesn’t have to become an ugly family fight," Mom said, stepping closer and wringing her hands.
"It’s already profoundly ugly, Mom."
"They’re just children; they won’t care where or what they eat today. Paige is under a lot of professional pressure with her business expansion."
Theo stared fixedly down at the shiny linoleum floor, his paper turkey clutched tightly against his chest. Norah slowly, silently folded Paige’s carefully crafted blue-flower place card in half until the cardboard snapped down the middle.
I turned my eyes back to my mother, my heart hardening like cold concrete. "Did you know they weren’t invited today?"
Mom’s mouth tightened into a thin, defensive line. "Paige just wanted one calm, peaceful adult holiday this year. Is that really such a crime?"
"Did you know?" I repeated, my voice dropping an octave.
"Yes, I knew," Mom admitted defensively, tossing her head back. "And I was going to help you figure something out."
"When, Mom? After I drove all the way over here with my kids standing in the cold?"
She had no valid answer. She just stood there looking put-upon.
I looked back at Paige. Just five months earlier, that exact same sister had sat across from me in a quiet bank branch, crying crocodile tears and telling me that family was the only reason she felt comfortable asking me to put my financial reputation on the line for $130,000. Now, apparently, family had a strict seating capacity and a dress code.
"Fine," I said evenly.
Mom visibly relaxed, letting out a long breath of relief. "Good. Excellent. So you’ll call a babysitter?"
"No," I replied, grabbing my purse off the counter. "We’re leaving."
Mom lunged forward, grabbing my forearm. "Kristen, don’t be so dramatic! Everyone is waiting!"
"I am taking my children home where they are actually wanted and loved. That is the least dramatic option currently available in this room."
As I turned sharply toward the front door, my eyes caught sight of a thick manila folder that Paige had carelessly tossed onto the counter right beside one of Mom’s heavy ceramic casseroles. A single sheet of paper was sticking halfway out of the top pocket.
At the very top of that protruding page was the distinct blue-and-gray corporate logo of my employer: Tideway Port Services.
Beneath it, in bold typed headings, I caught the words Corporate Housing Support and Exclusive Vendor Projections.
I froze in my tracks.
"Paige, why do you have Tideway paperwork in your possession?" I asked, my blood running instantly cold.
Paige lunged forward with surprising speed, snatching the folder off the counter and clutching it against her chest. "It’s nothing, Kristen. Just some routine bank projections."
"What in the world does my employer have to do with your business loan projections?"
"Nothing directly! It’s just market research."
"Then why is our corporate logo printed on your financial paperwork?"
"Kristen, can we please not discuss boring business stuff right now? People are coming over!" Paige hissed, her face flushing bright red.
Before I could demand an answer, a small hand tugged gently at the hem of my jacket.
May you like
"Mom, can we please just go home?" Norah whispered, her big eyes glistening with unshed tears.
That broke my paralysis. I turned my back on my mother and sister without another word, herded my children out to the car, and drove us away from that toxic house.
