Unbuttoning my shirt before the mirror, I pause at the third button and turn her way. “Much. Thank you for asking.”
She knows me better than anyone, and the rolling feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me she sees clear through me.
“It’s that lawyer, isn’t it? You’re sweet on him.” Her words are choppy, displeased. “It’s like you’ve been walking on air since yesterday afternoon.”
I laugh and return to my buttons. “Not. At. All. You’re imagining things.”
She moves closer, examining me until I squirm slightly. “You’re blushing.”
“He’s a nice man,” I say. “And he’s easy on the eyes. But after everything that happened with Keir, I’m rather insulted by the fact that you’d accuse me of wanting to jump back into the dating scene. And he’s my conservator. It would violate his professional standards and my personal ethics. Please. No more frivolous indictments.”
She slaps her palms along her sides and huffs. “I’m just protective, that’s all.”
“Right. You said that before.” I pull my blouse off my shoulders, standing in nothing but a bra and black leather leggings that are a size too big and mourning my curves in the mirror. Food just hasn’t tasted the same in the last couple of months. I blame the medication.
“It’s just.” She stands beside me. “You’re a very beautiful young lady. He’s a handsome man who knows you’re richer than God. And he’s charming. Serena, he’s essentially a stranger, and you got in the car with him. What if he would’ve taken you somewhere?”
“Okay. That’s enough.” I chuckle. “I’m not a child climbing into a car with a candy-toting stranger. I’m grown woman. You saw me leave with him. We both know who he is. I didn’t see the harm. You know you sound ridiculous, right?”
I peel out of my leggings and yank a pair of matching satin pajamas from my middle bureau drawer. When I’m changed, I head to the bathroom to wash up. Eudora follows, leaning in the doorway.
“Just be smart about this,” she cautions. “I don’t care how sweet he is to you. How he makes you feel. You can’t trust him. You can’t trust any of them.”
I dab a line of toothpaste on my ultrasonic brush and shoot her a scrunch-faced look, debating whether to argue or appease for now.
“Got it,” I say. I’m too tired to fight with Eudora, and I know her stick-in-the-mud tendencies all too well. I’ve grown up with them. “He’s untrustworthy, and I won’t trust him.”
* * *
When I round the corner to the dining room Tuesday morning and spot Veronica and my father seated at the head of the table, it’s all I can do to not choke on my spit.
“Good morning, sweetheart.” Veronica rises, her glass-like forehead reflecting off the lit chandelier above. She’s dressed in head-to-toe daffodil yellow, my father’s favorite color, even though it looks horrid against her orange-glow skin. Someone that evil shouldn’t wear happy colors.
I shudder when she calls me any term of endearment, which only seems to happen when my father is present.
“Hi, Daddy.” I ignore Veronica and take the seat next to my father, who’s dressed in a navy velour tracksuit. It’s all he seems to wear anymore. Long gone are the days when he’d never be caught dead in anything besides his favorite Italian tailored suits. I slip my hand over my father’s, and he stares blankly ahead.
“He’s not quite himself today.” Veronica clears her throat and takes the seat on his other side. “He had another episode this morning. Kept calling me . . . Maggie.”
My chest tightens.
That was my mother’s name.
“It was like he’d completely forgotten which decade we’re in,” she laments, but I don’t think she cares about him. I think she’s more concerned with her window of opportunity fading.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
I find it interesting that she hasn’t visited in weeks, and now she’s here. A few days after I fled Belcourt for a couple of hours.
Eudora had to have mentioned something.
“I wanted to let you know.” She steps over her words carefully, her tight eyes jutting all over the room. “Your father gave me sole medical power of attorney. Our dual power of attorney is temporarily suspended, given your current state.”
“What? No. You can’t do that.”
“No, no, dear. Your father decided.” Her legs cross, and her expression is emotionless. Then again, it usually is. The woman’s face is so filled, she can hardly smile anymore.
“My father? The man who doesn’t even know who you are half the time?” My voice is raised. “He’s not in any condition to make changes like that, and you know it.”
“And you’re not in any condition to make decisions about anyone’s care, including yourself. I had to do what’s best for the family.”
I could slap her, and I’m not a violent person. A million words fly through my mind, threatening to take a detour to my lips.
But I remember Derek’s advice. We can’t let her know we’re onto her. It’ll only make things harder.
“The family?” I scoff. “You’re not a part of this family, Veronica.”
“I care about you, sweetheart.” She leans across the table, placing her hand over mine, but I yank it away. Her expression is a phony kind of warm, but her touch is cold as ice. “I know you don’t believe it, but I do. I love my Harold, and part of loving Harold is loving his daughter.”