Page 19 of The Heiress
Six months after Mom and Dad split up, Dad’s dental hygienist, Courtney, moved in with him. A year later they married, and he opened a new practice in Rosemont. In hindsight, we were all able to put two and two together.
Mom had thrown herself into her business and in the last eighteen months, since she planned the wedding for Harriet Holbrun, Bianca’s older sister, it had really taken off. She was always working, but she made time for my tournaments. Even if I got a ride with Max, she’d turn up at some point to watch me play.
Mom put my crutches on the passenger seat and pulled me in for an embrace. “Drive safely,” she said, squeezing me tight. I stiffened, not liking the feel of the sharp ridges of bone.
“I will.”
“If you get tired, take a break.” I nodded, trying to pull away. “I’ll miss you,” she whispered, her voice shaky with emotion.
“It’s one night, Mom,” I said, not successful in suppressing the sarcasm in my tone. Luckily she was spared from seeing my eye roll.
“Yes, I know,” Mom said, pulling back and reaching up to smooth my hair, “but it’s your first time driving out of town on your own.”
“I’ll get going,” I said, trying hard to avert my eyes from how sunken her cheeks were. I eased into the seat and buckled myself in.
“Drive safely, Phoe,” Mom said, leaning in to kiss my cheek, but I’d already reached for the door, causing her to hastily step back.
I gave an impatient nod as I pulled the door shut.
There was a slight tug at my heart as I saw Mom waving in the rear view mirror, her puffer coat swamping her. I’d always felt bad about leaving her, hating that she’d be on her own, especially at holidays, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s. But I brushed it aside—that selfish side of me rearing its ugly head again, wanting her to suffer, and what better way than being alone on Thanksgiving. Actually, worse than that, she had to work on Thanksgiving Day. She was co-ordinating a family luncheon atLa Maison, the hotel in Covington Heights that she worked closely with. Usually an assistant would cover it, but Mom had decided to do it herself.
Courtney and the girls were busy in the kitchen when I arrived, the smell of baking filled the air. Katy and Willow were decorating cookies under Courtney’s supervision.
“Mom says hi,” I said, placing the gift hamper on the counter, the girls scrambling to see the goodies in it. It was mainly food but there were cute stickers and notepads and girly things, and they excitedly shared them.
“Ah, she shouldn’t have,” Courtney said as if she was a little embarrassed. “How’s Laura?”
“Good,” I said, though I would have liked to say that she wasn’t eating properly and losing weight. I think Courtney would understand. But that would be a betrayal to Mom.
The whole step-mother dynamic was a weird one. I wanted to get along with Courtney for Dad’s sake, but I also didn’t want to like hertoomuch because that would show disloyalty to Mom. It was always a balancing act about knowing how much to reveal to each party about the other.
“How’s your mother?” Dad asked as he arrived with my duffle bag, dropping it down on the floor.
“She’s good,” I repeated, swallowing the urge to tell him about Mom’s weight loss. Mom would hate it if I did, but what if it became so serious that she was endangering her health and I never asked for help?
The day became what I deemed typical whenever I visited Dad, and that involved family activities. Growing up as an only child, I’d never experienced family time like this, and I kind of liked it. Before my accident, it had been all about day hikes, bike rides and picnics; now it was board games, videos and craft making. With Courtney, making sandwiches became a group effort.
Katy and Willow had me folding napkins into different shapes, turkeys, flowers and fish, my attempts pretty basic, and after lunch, we sat down to watch the first football game of the day, Dad and Courtney snuggled up together on the couch. It didn’t faze me anymore, seeing the two of them being close, but in the early days I hated it. The girls had a variety of crafts set out on the floor and every so often I’d have to thread some beads or make a puzzle or color a page. When Willow lined up a packet of crayons and ordered me to color a picture of a farm scene, it made me think of Elisha. I wondered if she was home with her family for Thanksgiving; I wondered where her home was.
It was during half time of the second football game that Courtney made a move. “Let’s go and make popcorn and hot chocolate,” she said, encouraging the girls into the kitchen. My protests of not being able to eat another thing were ignored. As if it was an orchestrated move, Dad quickly got up to close the door and muted the television.
“Phoe, I have something to tell you.” He sat down on the edge of the couch, leaning forward. That was ominous in itself and I mentally braced myself. For some reason the first thing that sprung to mind was that Courtney was pregnant, that I was going to have a half-sibling. Surely that could be the only thing that required a ‘talk.’ A baby brother or sister would be a bit of a change for Dad being in his mid-40s, but Courtney was ten years younger.
“I’m filing a personal injury claim against your mother.”
The words didn’t register, well not totally. A personal injury claim meant he was suing my mother and I had to wonder why—and then he finished his sentence, “On your behalf.”
My eyes widened as I stared back into his brown eyes, my heart beat fluttering. “What?”
“You’re a minor, so I’m filing against your mother on your behalf,” Dad said.
“Wh-why?” I stuttered back.
“We need to make sure you’re taken care of,” Dad said, wringing his hands. “I know it sounds like it’s...it’s harsh for your mother, but we have to look out for you.”
“But I’m fine,” I said. “I’m doing okay. I’m just about back to normal.” To prove it, I stood up without my crutches. My left hip jarred but there was no pain.
Dad blew out a prolonged breath as if he’d anticipated my reaction, his tone lowering. “Phoe, it’s nothing personal against Mom. It’s just how things work. It’ll be covered by her insurance company.”
