Chapter 6 - The Erupting Volcano
Elections had consequences, and family tyranny had finally hit a brick wall.
Catching sight of Gladys stepping gracefully onto the terrace with a fresh glass of champagne in her hand, Evelyn lost whatever fragile grip she had left on her composure.
"Gladys!" Evelyn screamed, throwing her hands up in the air. "Gladys, tell these thugs to move! What is going on?! Where is the decorator?! The sun is setting and Abigail’s photographer needs the coastal light!"
Gladys took a slow, deliberate sip of her champagne. She walked down the short flight of stone steps, stopping just behind the iron railing, looking down at them as though they were exhibits in a bizarre anthropological museum.
"Why would the decorator be waiting for you, Evelyn?" Gladys asked, her voice calm, level, and carrying effortlessly over the gentle ocean breeze.
Eleanor physically shoved Evelyn aside, lunging forward and gripping the iron bars of the gate like a caged animal.
"Gladys! You told me you understood! You agreed to give Abigail the date!"
"No, Mom," Gladys replied softly, her tone laced with chilling sweetness. "I said, ‘Whatever you say.’ I never canceled a single vendor, I never gave up my contract, and I sure as hell didn’t pay ninety thousand dollars so your golden child could play dress-up for the third time."
Abigail let out an ear-piercing, banshee-like shriek, clutching her massive tulle train in the dirt.
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"Aunt Gladys, you ruined my life!" Abigail wailed, tears carving thick black tracks through her heavy makeup. "I told everyone on Instagram that I was having an oceanfront sunset gala at Port Harbor! The bus was supposed to drop my guests directly at the pavilion! Where are my guests supposed to go?!"
Gladys didn't blink. "I don't know, Abigail. Try a local diner. I hear they don’t require an eighteen-month deposit."
