Page 89 of Why Cheese?
“Half-naked delivery men? This city is deplorable,” my mother huffs. She sinks her withering glare on Cheddy and Brie. “Well? Are you going to clean or not? My daughter’s not paying you to stand around.”
“Yes. Right.” Brie dashes to the back to snatch up a broom. He thrusts the mop into Cheddy’s hands.
“Are we being paid?” Cheddy whispers before he salutes with the handle, and starts to mop without any water.
This is bad. This is so bad.
My mother watches it all with her usual condescending eye. I can’t stop itching my arm, my nails digging deeper into my skin so the anxiety can drip out of me. “Here, let me…” I try to rush over to help Cheddy, but my mom steps in the way.
“Why are you having milk delivered?” she asks.
“To make cheese.”
“Stand up straight,” she commands and I fling my shoulders back. “Why are you making more cheese? I thought the point of this charade was for you to sell off your”—her lip twitches in a sneer—“uncle’s stocks before we rid ourselves of this place.”
“It…I, I am. I just, you can’t only sell cheddar.”
“Why not?”
“Because people want mozzarella or camembert. Fresher cheeses to go with…” As my brain tumbles the words, my mouth stills.That doesn’t make any sense.
“Violette, you’re not making any sense,” my mother says. “Besides, you don’t know the first thing about cheesemaking. You’re probably poisoning people with your incompetence. That ends now.”
“Yes, Mother,” I whisper.
She stretches back her arms and inspects the store again. “It’s a lucky thing I came out here. You’d have let this place fall to ruin, blown the deal, and lost all your money in the process. You there, skinny one.”
Brie pauses in sweeping the trash into a dustbin to turn to my mom. “Me?”
“You missed a spot.” She points to one of the tables then turns away from him. “Honestly, Violette, what are you thinking making cheese? I hope you weren’t under some delusion you could run this place by yourself.” As she finishes, tears bubble in her eyes. My mom sniffs, breaking my heart.
“No,” I assure her. “I would never. This was only for three months. Really. We can, I can sell off whatever remains, and then come home.”
What are you doing? What happened to forty days with them? Are you going to give all of that up just to appease Mom?
My mother lays a soothing palm on my cheek and lightly pinches the skin. “You’re not using your creams.” She drops her touch and wipes her hand off. “It’s like touching crepe paper.”
“Oh.” I jerk back and try to cover my skin. “I’m sorry. I’ve been putting them on after my shower, but…”
“But you need to try harder, Violette. Honestly, you would be dead in a ditch without me.”
“That’s not funny to joke about,” Cheddy leaps in. I try to wave him off, insisting I don’t deserve defending, but he wields his broom like a sword and confronts my mother.
“I’m sorry, why aren’t you working?”
“Cause you were being mean to—”
“Get back to work or you’re fired,” she threatens.
Cheddy’s eyes go wide and he leans back. “Are you a witch?” he whispers. “Brie, she’s gonna set me on fire.”
My mother shrugs off the coat she didn’t need in this June heat. “Now that I’m here, this place should run much more efficiently. I bet you’ll sell off all of this stock in three, no, two weeks. Isn’t that wonderful?”
She’s staying?I thought she’d see I’m alive, make me swear to call more, then go back home.She hates this city. Why is she staying?
“Violette?” she prompts.
Instead of looking at her, I glance back at the men watching me with worried eyes. They’re facing an eviction my mother wants to cut to just fourteen days. What do I tell them? How do I stop this? They don’t deserve this.
