“Whatisn’tyour sister upset about?” Isabellatsked.“She’s even so upset about your father and I being here that she refuses to come home.”
The corner of Henry’s mouth twitched. “Neither she nor Nadia knew you were coming early. Friday night is their big date night after Nadia gets off work.”
“The fact that the wife of any of my children still works is an insult in itself,” Gerald proclaimed, before looking at Monica. “No offense. You at least own your own enterprise.”
“Nadia enjoys her job and making some money for herself,” Monica tentatively explained. “As someone from a similar background as hers, I understand the urge. Nothing wrong with any wife in this family making her own money.”
“Really, Gerald, we should be grateful that our daughters-in-law aren’t mooches.”
He flopped into a large armchair and pulled a cigar out of his inside pocket. Gerald knew better than to light it in front of anyone, least of all his wife. “Not like there isthatmuch money to go around.”
Isabella sniffed her displeasure at money talk. Henry attempted to change the subject. Monica was stuck in between, taking her mind off things by instinctively refilling glasses and brewing herself some herbal tea in the adjacent kitchenette. The only one who wanted any was Isabella, of course.So I have to serve her.
That was something Monica had noticed about the woman over the years. Isabellawantedher daughter-in-law to serve her, and Monica was all too ready to do it. Too many years did it take for Monica to realize that it got her nothing with Isabella. The woman looked down at her like a cat looked down at the mouse it cornered.I’m a plaything to her. When I’m not disgusting her, anyway.
But Monica couldn’t help herself. If she was hosting, she served… something. It kept her busy and made her feel useful. Even in her own house.
And thiswasher manor now. Her name was on the deed alongside Henry’s. Eva stood to inherit if anything happened to the couple before Abigail came of age, but the point was that Isabella and Gerald wiped their hands of the family manor when they were on the verge of bankruptcy. Anything to get away from the high taxes of New England.And away from the social class that would certainly judge them.Like Henry had hustled to save his family business and investments from insolvency, Monica had worked overtime salvaging their social credit. Not just for the leverage during future disasters, either.For the love of God, we need friends.
And her daughter needed as normal of a life as possible. The last thing Monica wanted was for Abigail to grow up too isolated from other kids, be they heiresses or the third daughter of a working-class family. Monica knew how to move through the wealthy class without drawing too much attention to herself, but she still remembered where she came from.
“How is Abigail’s schooling going?” Isabella expertly steered the conversation. “She’s growing so quickly, Henry. Soon, she’ll be as tall as you.”
It was rare to see that woman smile like that. Nevertheless, Monica didn’t trust it. “She’s getting straight-As so far,” she said. “Her teacher adores her. The choir teacher likewise sees promise in her singing and dancing skills. Abigail’s recently asked if she may start taking ballet.”
Isabella’s countenance waged war between insolence that Monicadaredspeak in her husband’s place, and satisfaction toward the information she heard. Monica would have laughed if it wouldn’t have sparked another battle between mother and daughter-in-law.
“Ballet is a wonderful hobby for her to have. Honestly, I don’t know why you didn’t have her enrolled when she was four. That’s the perfect time to start. She’s so far behind already…”
Henry saw the look on his wife’s face and curtly nodded in understanding. “We’re letting Abigail decide what hobbies she wants and when to start. You ask me, this will be a flash-in-the-pan thing until something else catches her attention. We’re just grateful to be in a position to let her do something like this.”
“What else could a girl like her possibly be doing?”
“Sports, for one thing,” Monica said. “She loves sprinting.”
“Of course she does! She’s a child. That’s all they do.”
“She’s quite into arts and crafts as well,” Henry continued. “She mostly asked for drawing supplies this past Christmas. We got her a lightbox to practice her tracing. You should see her coloring prowess already.” He sounded like the proudest father in the world when he said, “Always right in the lines.”
“Well… suppose it’s high time we got that girl a calligraphy set,” Isabella said to her husband, who was lost in his phone. “It’s important for children to learn finesse and fine motor skills. Plus, calligraphy is a proper hobby for a young lady.”
Monica pursed her lips. “She would probably enjoy that. She’s slated to start learning cursive next year.”
“Why not now? What’s the point of that fancy academy if my granddaughter isn’t learning important things like cursive in first grade?”
“Even when I went to Winchester,” Henry said, “I didn’t learn cursive until second grade. I think that’s fairly standard.”
“The whole point of private schooling as rigorous as Winchester Academy’s is that it’snotstandard.” Isabellatsked.“She should be challenged from the moment she started kindergarten. Don’t you want her to go somewhere like St. Ignatius?”
She referred to the boarding school for girls an hour outside of town, and the sister school to St. Mary’s, where Henry received his high school diploma.Eva was supposed to go to St. Ignatius…She finished school at Winchester Academy so herparents could keep an eye on the wild child who was always in trouble because she wasjustdifferent enough.
“That’s so far away. We still don’t even know what kind of student Abigail will be,” Monica said. “For all we know, she’ll skew toward STEM and be a better candidate for Curie High School.”
Isabella scoffed. “Isn’t that apublicschool?”
“It’s the best science-based school in the whole state, Mother,” Henry explained. “Many of our contemporaries send their kids there now. There’s no better way to live in this area and be set up for a school like MIT.”
From the look on Isabella’s face, she abhorred the idea of any of her progeny going toMIT!It was Ivy League like Henry or bust.Eva went to a local university…Private, of course, but she claimed that she preferred to stay close to home and picked that institution for its burgeoning business program. Considering she stuck around for her masters…
