Her Mother's Daughter (4 page)

“Meaning?”

“You.”

She blinked. That was the last thing she expected him to say, especially as his wife was ten feet away. Tansy drew her shoulders back. “Say that again and you'll regret it. You're not the only one who can run to your father with tittle-tattle.” She moved away.

“Blood is thicker than water,” Philip reminded her. “Who do you think he'll believe?”

Her head throbbed. She was so damn weary of the lot of them. “You know what, Philip? I really don't care.”

She left the room.

The next day, Tansy returned home with shopping bags filled with new summer clothes from Prada. The chauffeur was behind her with the bags she couldn't carry.

She took everything up to her suite and laid the clothes on the bed. Maria would put them away later. She fingered the silk camisoles and the linen suits. The wraparound dresses and party outfits were so beautiful that she was dying to show someone, but that would have to wait. When she glanced at the clock on the bedside table, it was four o'clock; time to get ready for this evening. The mayor was having an intimate dinner party and she wanted to look her best.

After a leisurely soak, she was wrapping herself up in a bath sheet when there was a knock on the bedroom door.

“Yes?”

She heard the door open. “Excuse me, Madam, you're wanted in the study.”

“Thank you, Maria.”

Charles never asked to see her in his study. The last time was when he presented her with keys to her very own Porsche. That's when it hit her. It was her birthday tomorrow. He'd remembered.

She took pains to look especially beautiful and didn't wear jewellery in case that was her gift. She pictured herself bending her neck to let Charles fasten the clasp of an exquisite necklace, or holding out her arm as he placed a diamond and sapphire bracelet on her wrist.

Tansy sprayed his favourite perfume, Chanel No. 5, on her throat. Taking one final look to make sure her lipstick was perfect, she jumped up from the vanity and hurried to the study. She knocked on the door softly.

Charles said, “Come in.”

She opened the door and gave him a smile. Charles sat behind his desk with papers in his hand. When he looked up, he frowned.

She was unsure what to do. “You wanted me?”

“Yes. Sit down.”

Closing the door, she walked toward him. “It's gloomy in here. Why don't you turn on a light?”

“Fine. If you would, Philip.”

Tansy spun around as the light came on. Philip sat in a wing chair beside a small table, the lamp chain in his hand.

“Tansy, I asked you to sit down.”

She looked back at Charles and then slowly walked to the chair in front of his desk. She sat. “What is this, Charles?”

“Philip told me something interesting last night, didn't you, Philip? Something about you entertaining a waiter instead of my guests at the party.”

Tansy turned her head to look at her accuser.

“Don't look so surprised. I told you I would.”

She glared him. “You've waited for this, haven't you? Why do you hate me so much? What have I ever done to you? It's not like I'm in line to inherit his money. I'm not a threat.”

Philip lit a cigarette. “Oh yes, you are.”

“How? I'm his lover, not his wife.”

“A lover who can get pregnant any time it suits her. And we can't have that.”

“Your father beds every woman he sees. If it's not me, it'll be someone else. Your inheritance isn't safe.”

Charles glowered at her. “What I do with my free time is my business. As you say, you're not my wife. But we've been together now for two years, the longest I've been with anyone other than his mother. And I expected loyalty.”

“Loyalty? Is it loyalty when your son asks me to go to bed with him?”

“I did no such thing. She's lying to save her own skin.”

Charles stood and came around the desk, then grabbed her arm and made her look at him. “You live a life most people can only dream of, and this is how you repay me? By screwing a waiter on my kitchen floor?”

“That's not true.”

He slapped her face. “Fifty bucks and a bottle of scotch loosened your waiter's tongue, so don't lie to me.”

She put her hand up to her stinging cheek. “I'm sorry.”

He turned away and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window, where the bright lights of New York shone in the dark. There he stood for quite a while before he said, “Leave us, Philip.”

“But Dad—”

“Go.”

Philip got up reluctantly and gave Tansy a disgusted look before he walked out the door.

Charles turned his head from the window. “Why, Tansy?”

She looked at her hands. “I was drunk and stupid and jealous of that young girl…”

“You hurt me.”

“I know that.”

His face softened. “Come here.”

Tansy got out of the chair and walked over to him. He took her hand.

“I love you, Tansy. You're the one I want by my side.”

“And I will be.”

Charles reached out and held her tight. “Let's go to your room.”

They left the study to walk to the bedroom. He kissed her once more before she opened the door and then quietly closed it behind them.

She dreamt she was running through the farmer's field behind their house, Bay in front of her laughing. She was happy and the sun shone brightly on her face. It was so bright it became uncomfortable.

Tansy woke with a start. Early morning light filled every corner of the room. She gave a great stretch and then relaxed with her arms over her head. She hadn't expected to see Charles this morning. He told her he had an early meeting but to get herself dolled up for dinner tonight. He was taking her somewhere special for her birthday.

Tansy turned over on her belly. She smoothed the satin sheets with her hand, but her limbs felt heavy, like they did after a session in the gym. There was a good reason for that. Last night Charles had surprised her. She'd never known him to be so imaginative or so demanding. Her cheeks grew hot when she thought of it.

She'd done it. She'd escaped by the skin of her teeth. The fright of last night made her realize that she had to work extra hard, but it would be worth it. Before they'd fallen asleep he'd mentioned a world cruise.

At the thought of it, she jumped out of bed and hummed as she went into the bathroom. She was pinning up her hair when she noticed it.

There was a hundred-dollar bill sticking out from under a can of hairspray.

And a note.

Get out of my house.

CHAPTER THREE

Bay watched Wendell Bonaparte stagger up the street towards the post office. As she sorted the mail, she kept her eye on him through the front window. Every morning Wendell lurched his way down Main Street and every morning Bay was sure he'd be hit by a car. But drunks and fools must have someone looking after them, because he always managed to make it.

She prepared herself. The door flew open and Wendell came flying in with it. The only reason he stayed on his feet was Verna Bradford's enormous bosom. He careened into her and steadied himself against her soft bulges.

“Morning, Verna. Grand day, wha'?”

Verna hit him with her newspaper. “Get off me, you great oaf.”

Wendell took several steps back and removed his ball cap to reveal his greasy comb-over. He waved his hat about with a flourish and bowed. “So sorry, me lady. No offence meant.”

Verna didn't look impressed. “Get yourself into detox, Wendell, for your poor ma's sake. I can't for the life of me figure out why she doesn't boot your arse all the way from here to Halifax.”

Wendell blinked several times as he swayed in front of his opponent. “Well, my dear, that may be because my arse isn't nearly as large a target as yours.”

Verna gave an indignant shout and tore off out the door.

Bay bit her lip to keep from laughing. Wendell weaved his way over to her. He leaned on the counter and winked.

“That wasn't very nice, Wendell.”

He put his ball cap back on. “No, sadly, it wasn't.”

“No cheque for you today, I'm afraid.”

He winced. “Goddamn government.”

“They don't come in until Thursday.”

Wendell's head went back. “Isn't today Thursday?”

“Nope.”

He sighed and the smell of alcohol almost made her eyes water.

“You better go home, Wendell. Your ma will be looking for you.”

He saluted her and did the two-step over to the post office door. He shouted over his shoulder, “When are you going to marry me, Bay?”

“When pigs fly.”

“Righto.” And out he went.

Bay shook her head and kept sorting. She was about to grab another bundle when she heard the school bus approach. Most days Ashley sat on the right side of the bus and would wave at her as they rumbled by. For the past week she was nowhere to be seen. There were only eight days left before both she and Matt graduated from high school, so this endearing ritual was quickly coming to a close. It hurt not to see her grinning face in the window.

Once more Bay steadied herself for Ashley's rejection, but there she was. She gave a small wave and a half-hearted smile, but they meant everything to Bay.

When her best friend, Gertie, came up the walk, Bay was smiling from ear to ear.

“Hey ho,” Gertie cried. Gertie was single and very pretty, but because she was a large gal, that's all people saw. Her uncontrollable frizzy hair didn't help matters. She was always on a diet, yet managed to gain more and more weight as the years went by. She told people she still had her baby weight on, but didn't tell them her baby was a cat named Jeffrey.

“Hi, Gertie. What's up with you?”

Gertie leaned her plump elbows on the counter. “Same old, same old. Ashley talking to ya yet?”

Bay nodded. “Well, sort of. She waved at me this morning.”

Gertie rolled her eyes, but Bay was used to it. Gertie didn't know how hard it was to be a mother and that you had to take your small victories when you could get them.

“What she needs to do is crawl on her hands and knees and beg your forgiveness for being so damn rude.”

“I did slap her.”

“Too right you did, and she deserved it.”

“Okay, let's drop it, shall we?”

Gertie always took the hint. She straightened up. “Any mail for me?”

Bay walked to the back of the postal boxes and took out a couple of grocery store flyers. “This is it.”

Gertie was the only one she knew who was happy to get them. Gertie grabbed them out of her hand and flipped through the pages.

“Oh, goodie. Ice cream's on sale this week.”