Page 81 of These Summer Storms

“He was generous.” Well. That was a pretty nice thing to say if slightly arguable. Maybe the mushrooms weren’t so bad. And then her mother added, “In bed.”

“Oh. No.” Emily spoke without thinking.

“Ew.” Greta.

“Let’s never discuss this again,” Alice said. The suggestion was unnecessary. Everyone had taken a vow of eternal silence on the matter.

“You may not like it,” Elisabeth said to everyone and no one, “but it’s true.”

“All right.” Jack passed over the statement as though it hadn’t been said, adding, “I was going to suggest that you enjoy your day with Emily. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

That was nice, Alice thought. The kind of thing a person said to a grieving widow who wasn’t Elisabeth Storm.

But Elisabeth Storm wasn’t Elisabeth Storm in that moment, and maybe Jack saw that. Maybe he knew that she’d reply. “I know, you’ll take care of it.”

“I will.”

“Thank you,” their mother said, turning to her daughters. “And thank you three.”

“Of course.” Greta spoke for them.

“That’s why Franklin liked you the most.”

Pain flashed across Greta’s face. “If he liked us the most, Mom, he sure didn’t show it.”

“Maybe not,” Elisabeth said, distracted by another painting. “But maybe that’s why he didn’t. Didn’t want to play favorites.”

It was patently false. Franklin had loved to play favorites, pitting the children against one another and watching them fight. He’d pushed Alice out of the family and made no attempts to bring her back. And he’d left Greta the indisputably cruelest task in the inheritance game. But Emily…maybe she was the real favorite.

Or maybe it was all a mindfuck.

Whatever it was, Emily was practicing radical acceptance. “Come on, Mom. Let’s get some water. You need to stay hydrated.”

“I don’t need water,” Elisabeth said, the words trailing into silence for a beat before she added, “I think I might be thirsty.”

Unbelievable.

Emily spread her hands wide in the universal sign forSee?The two women disappeared down the hallway, Alice and Greta watching with wide eyes.

“I cannot believe…” Greta trailed off.

“I know,” Alice said.

“You’re sure they’ll be okay?” Greta said, the panic in her tone obvious. Not that she would admit to it. “What if she—”

“She’s going to be fine. Emily and Claudia are pros,” she quipped, laughing at Greta’s face before turning serious. “You should let people help. You don’t have to handle her all by yourself.”

Greta shook her head, her throat working, as though she had something to say.

When she didn’t, Alice added, teasing, “Think of it this way: If you go with her, I’ll have to deal with the company. And you know how I get around the company.”

Greta forced a little laugh. “The stock price is already down.”

“Exactly.”

Greta stood on the precipice known to children throughout time: Honor thy father? Or honor thy mother?

Or honor thyself?

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