Page 69 of Enemies to Lobsters
“Mom,” Diana mutters like a warning.
I pull her against my side protectively, moving us to the edge of the floor toward our seats.
“A toast.” Charlotte stands at the edge of the floor, holding up her glass. “You know, as a mother, your one great hope is that your child will turn out better than you did. When I got the invitation to my daughter’s reception in the mail, I knew she turned out better than me. She fell in line with exactly what my parents always wanted—”
“Charlotte,” Charles cuts her off, standing.
“No, Dad.” Diana’s mother holds up a reassuring hand. “Let me say this. Then I’ll leave, and you can finish turning my daughter into the WASP-y Stepford Wife you always wanted me to be.” Her sharp laugh hangs in the tense air. “Congratulations,Diana, on snagging the perfect man and becoming the daughter my parents always dreamed of. To Diana.” She holds up her glass. “Oh, and Ike. The local who finally found a way to marry into York money. Kudos to you both.” She sneers. Then she takes a long drink from her glass, slams it onto the white tablecloth, and pushes through the sea of chairs to the tent door.
Oh, not a chance, lady. I start to follow her, but Diana snags my arm. She mutters, “No, Ike. Let her go.” She reaches up, pressing a kiss to my jaw and grasping my arm. “Not tonight.”
Should I wait to defend us when her mother comes back after another fifteen years? No. “I’ll be quick.”
“Ike, please—”
“Be right back.” I’m out of the tent in eight steps. I spot Charlotte’s long brown hair as she stomps through the dark toward the house. “Charlotte,” I bark across the lawn. I catch up to her quickly.
She spins. “What?”
“Say what you want about me. I know who I am and why I married your daughter—”
“For money.” She sneers. She’s trying to hurt me by lobbing cheap shots, but she doesn’t know me.
I straighten. “I don’t care what you think of me, but you will not come here and disrespect Diana and her grandparents.” I mentally pat myself on the back for keeping my voice even.
She doesn’t respond right away. Her eyes tighten. She looks me over, and her nose wrinkles in disgust exactly the way Diana’s used to. “You think this is what Diana wants?” she asks, heavy on the sarcasm.
I can’t tell if she’s referring to me, or the opulent reception and seaside estate. Either way. “Yes. I do.”
She smirks. “Then you don’t know my daughter.”
“You do?”
“I know who she is.”
Is she delusional? “How? Her grandparents raised her.” I may have accidentally raised my voice that time.
Charlotte’s grin is eerie. It’s so similar to Diana’s, but unsettlingly disingenuous. “I know my daughter. She isn’t built for that life. For marriage. Settling down. Raising a bunch of silver spoon brats and repeating the cycle.”
Hey, those are our silver spoon brats she’s talking about. “You seem to know a lot about the daughter you abandoned.”
“You don’t know anything. I didn’t abandon her.” She shakes her head. “I’m going to teach you something about the Yorks, new guy. They like to be in control.” She sighs heavily, like she’s bored and explaining the obvious. “When my parents couldn’t control me, they gave me two options: Fall in line, or I could leave, and they would raise my daughter.” She sniffs. “Without their help, I was broke. Raising Diana in poverty wasn’t a choice I was willing to make. So… I left.”
“That isn’t true.” Diana’s shaking voice comes from the darkness behind me.
My stomach drops. I hate that Diana heard any of that. Her world is being upended, and all I can do is stand here. Helplessness isn’t a feeling I enjoy. I want to make this right, but that’s her mother’s job.
Instead, Charlotte’s unapologetic smile makes my stomach sour. There is something seriously wrong with this woman. When Diana comes to stand beside me, I can’t help but angle myself between them.
“Poverty?” I’m impressed by the strength in Diana’s voice.
Charlotte nods. “I couldn’t do that to you. I need you to understand why I left—”
“That isn’t why you left.” She moves past me, taking a few steps toward her mother. “I know my grandparents. They raised me, after all.” She moves closer. “And I know a Cartier braceletwhen I see one. You haven’t been living in poverty. You’ve been taking good care of yourself.”
Charlotte scoffs. It’s as if Diana’s accusation bounces off of her. She seems incapable of acknowledging the truth, or admitting she was caught in a lie. “I wasted my time coming here.” She turns to leave, like she can’t physically abide being called out on her malarkey. “I should’ve known they’d have their hooks in you by now.” She calls over her shoulder, her voice cool and indifferent: “When you’re tired of playing by their rules, come find me.”
Diana’s chin drops to her chest. She shivers, and it finally occurs to me that it’s breezy and cold outside of the tent. I take a few steps toward her, pulling off my suit coat and wrapping it around her shoulders.
