Monica mimicked her. Usually, she loved amusing her daughter, but something felt off.
Could it be the way Isabella looked at her as if she had won this round of chess?
“She’s a thorn in everyone’s sides,” Henry agreed later that night, “but she just wants to feel involved in the family. We’ve been over this quite a few times.”
His tone implied that he wanted one night where they didn’t talk about what asinine thing Isabella had said or done that day. Monica attacked her hair in front of her vanity while holding back what she wasreallythinking.
Your mother did that on purpose. She wanted to scare me. Prove that she could interfere without getting into trouble.
Monica knew Isabella’s type long before she met the woman with that name. They weren’t just the kind of women with enough bravado to visit the Château – alone. They were a part of every garden party, country club, and church service. They threw galas for attention and made every wedding aboutthem,whether they knew the bride or not. (And Heaven forbid if they were the mother of the bride. Absolute anarchy once the woman in the white dress got the most attention for ten minutes.)
Picking up Abigail without notice, let alone permission, was a power move. Isabella had warned that she was more involved in Abigail’s life and development than her own parents knew, and here it was, staring them in the face.
“Would you at least entertain my worries?” Monica slammed her hairbrush onto her vanity. Henry, who had just wandered out of the bedroom in his pajama pants and not much else, was alerted to her direction. “Your mother is not a trustworthy woman. Maybe she won’thurtAbigail, but you see what happened with your sister. Withme.If you don’t fit into the perfect mold of what she considers a ‘proper’ woman, you might as well be dead to her. And when Isabella Warren thinks someone in her family is worthy of death, that’s it. Therapy time.”
“Monica.” Hands in pockets, Henry stood just to her side, both cajoling her with his voice and distracting her with his bare chest. “I know as well as anyone else in this family what a monster my mother can be. Remember, I got a good taste of it once I came of age and started going against her commands. Not to mention the mess I’ve cleaned up around here…”
“I don’t want her having so much influence over Abigail. It’s not good news.”
“What’s the worst you’re thinking can happen? She teaches her etiquette? All right, so I know you’re worried about what happens when Abby hits puberty and starts popping zits andgaining some weight. Mom can be ruthless about a woman’s appearance. Just ask Eva…”
“That should be more than enough, honestly.”
“But aren’t we also teaching our daughter boundaries and how to stick up for herself? She knows Grandma loves hernow,but there will, unfortunately, come a day when Abby has to learn that GramGram isn’t all presents and pleasantries.”
Monica hadn’t wanted to mention this, but her husband wasn’t seeing enough sense. “Your mother is communicating with the Beaumonts of Nice about our daughter’s marriage potential. Doesthatsound mostly harmless to you?”
Henry slightly shuddered. “Not ideal, but what’s she going to do? Try to introduce Abigail to Leon, Pierre, whatever that kid’s name is…”
“Louis. That’s the oldest boy.”
“Right. Louis. So, my mom will want them to get to know each other with the hopes of them falling in love or something. It might happen. Maybe it won’t. Honestly, Abigail is seven. Why would we even entertain her potentially falling in lovenow?”
“I’m thinking something more terrifying, Henry. Like her trying to arrange marriage.”
“You’re kidding. She didn’t get anywhere with me and the Nicholsons, and she got nowhere with Eva and the Monroes. This is no different. Obnoxiously meddlesome, but at the end of the day,we’rethe parents. Not to mention that in ten years Abigail will be eighteen.”
“Don’t remind me, Henry. She’s already growing up so fast.”
He stood behind her, hands on her shoulders. “I know,” he said into the top of her head before kissing it. “Savor each day we have with her as a child. That way, we’ll have plenty of memories when she becomes a lovely woman.”
Damn him for always knowing the sweetest thing to say.Monica couldn’t help but smile as her husband’s knuckles grazed her cheek.
“Do you have any big events at the Château this weekend?”
She slowly emerged from her romantic reverie. Now? Lost in a world of IRS bullshit. “No. Not to my knowledge. This time of year is usually slow for bachelor and birthday parties.”
“Why don’t we put something together, then? It’s been forever since we had a private party of our own up in the mountains. Might be good to be around some friends who want to take their minds off things.” He squeezed her shoulder, hitting her right in the spot that made her crumple over in delight.Squeeze me harder. Kiss me. Take me to bed…Weren’t they in the middle of a conversation? “I know how much you love to throw a party. Even better if it’s not around my parents.”
She chuckled. “Sounds likeyouwant to get away from them.” Ah, there was the annoying reminder of what she did… and what Isabella thought of it. “Who will watch Abby? I thought your sister was traveling next week.”
The look on Henry’s reflection told her what he was thinking… and that he dreaded bringing it up.
“My mother would be more than happy, I’m sure. Maybe I can convince her to take Abigail to the aquarium. That was one of her approved activities when I was a kid, and that hasn’t changed.”
“Abigail does love aquariums…” Sighing, Monica weighed leaving her daughter with Isabella – who might be a worse influence than was worth entertaining – to have a weekend full of Henry and their friends in a judgment-free place.
“At least think about it. I’ve got a few people in mind that we could invite up to the Château.”
