“That still doesn’t answer why you went looking for her mother or how you knew that what transpired would be the end result.”
“Like I said, it was easy to read between the lines. I wasn’t sure who Ann Winthrop was, or what she was about, but I knew that her daughter had a very healthy fear and dislike of her.”
“I figured at the very least if you saw that and maybe met the mother that your infatuation with her would change. You always seemed to have her on a pedestal, like you thought she was above everyone else. I never expected things to work out as well as they did.”
For a second, she seemed to forget that I was in the room and the sickening smile on her face was almost too much for me to handle. “If I’d known she would turn out to be such a threat, I would’ve gotten rid of her sooner.” She turned those eyes of near insanity on me again, but I couldn’t find any pity for her. It was obvious, at least now it was, that she’d gone off the deep end. Or maybe she’d always been like this, and I just never noticed.
“Why did you have to work so hard on changing her, building her confidence? Why couldn’t you have left her as she was? That insipid fool who barely spoke above a whisper? I knew you could never spend the rest of your life with someone like that, not to mention the fact that she’s poor.” She turned up her nose as if being poor was an offense.
“She’s not poor; in fact, she can buy and sell you twice over and still be a millionaire.”
“What’re you talking about?” I saw the first crack in her armor. Since she puts so much stock in wealth and family standings, I wasn’t surprised.
“Do you know who her father is? Sterling Winthrop, the famous architect.” I dropped the name and watched her blanch. “How did you find Ann Winthrop without learning that?”
“I don’t… you’re lying, she can’t be.” Watching her crumble at the fact that Giselle had a wealthier pedigree than her was satisfying but not satisfying enough. I want to make her bleed. It took everything in me not to put hands on her, but I knew of better ways to make her pay for what she did. I started to speak when I saw movement in the doorway and turned, thinking it was Giselle.
My heart dropped at the thought that she’d overheard all of the nasty things Dana had said about her. I never want her to face such ugliness again. But it wasn’t her who stepped into the doorway and walked across the room to stand in front of Dana before slapping her hard across the face. “Mom!” She lifted her other hand to smack the other cheek, and the sound reverberated around the room.
I took a step forward to get between the two of them. “Stay where you are. Someone needs to do this, and you’re not going to do it because of some archaic nonsense about hitting a woman, and my daughter is too much of a gentle soul to take out this trash.” She moved in even closer on a stunned Dana until there was barely a hair’s breadth between them.
“You are the reason I missed the first year of my grandson’s life. You are the reason my son almost lost his wife.” She poked her in the chest with each word, it seemed, making Dana take a step backward with each attack, which was no use since mom kept coming at her. “I want you out of this house; you’re not to go back to work, you’re fired.”
“You can’t fire me; I work for…”
“Calen?” Mom just said, my name.
“You’re fired,” I answered. What else was there for me to do? Mom was right; as much as I want to throttle Dana, I wouldn’t put hands on a female. Seeing mom tearing into her was very satisfying, though.
“There, you’re fired, you’re also no longer needed on the charity committee, that’s a place for my daughter. Is she connected to anything else with our name on it, Calen?”
“Uh, no, I don’t think so.”
“Good, we’ll keep looking, and if anything else pops up, we’ll take care of it. Now get out of here and forget you two ever knew each other.”
Dana looked at me as if expecting me to go against the tyrant, but I just shrugged my shoulders. “You got off easy. I’d have done a hell of a lot more.” And still plan to, but she doesn’t need to know that.
“Calen, how can you throw away our years of friendship? How can you choose her over me?” There were genuine tears in her eyes, and I admit I did feel a slight pang of pity because there was obviously something wrong with her wiring. Mom didn’t have that sympathy gene; it looked like.