When the lunch hours were over, I made my way back to my bag, checking my phone for the first time in what felt like ages. My plan had been to text Marcus—I’d been looking forward to getting off my feet for a little while now—but instead, I found a string of messages from my mother.
They started off cursory, shifted toward brusque, leaning into impatience before reaching her final stage—infuriation. Was I at my adorable little soup kitchen? How long of a lunch was I taking? Ignoring her wouldn’t get me any favors, she’d reminded me. And the final messages were a string of demands regarding my mandatory presence at a board meeting I’d never heard about.
With a sigh, I gathered my things and said my goodbyes, hurrying to the curb to hail a cab. I’d missed my lunch date with Marcus, too busy to message him, so on my way to whatever doom my mother had in store, I texted Marcus with my apologies and to chat about my day, lamenting over my mother in between. And by the time we pulled up to the building, I’d been sitting still in the quiet cab long enough to leave me exhausted, body and mind.
As I exited the taxi, I gave myself an inward slap to wake myself up.
Who knew what I was about to walk into, but I couldn’t imagine it would be pleasant. Not after ignoring my mother all day.
I wished terribly I was headed anywhere but to her, a wish not quieted by the opening and closing of the elevator doors that gave me glimpses to other floors, happier places. In a particularly mocking gesture, the universe made sure to stop at my floor—the charity floor.
I gave it a longing look until the doors closed again.
That tease was a direct representation of my mother’s intentions—give me a taste of what I wanted before taking it away.
The stark administrative floor hummed, its elitist occupants and the air they breathed sharp with pretentiousness and condescension. There seemed to be a permanent upward tilt of every nose paired with side-eyes and side-talk. Fitting that my mother had hand-picked every employee on this floor. I was sure she felt right at home.
I, on the other hand, felt the slime of this place clinging to me well after I’d gone.
Shelby greeted me, the only decent thing on the entire floor.
The concern on her face was not reassuring.
“She’s been waiting on you to get here. The front desk saw you and called up, so she knows you’re here. I—”
The double doors of Mother’s office flew open in a dramatic whoosh, and we flinched, turning to find her in the threshold. “Good,” she said on seeing me. “Come with me.”
Shelby and I shared a look when Mother’s back was to us, and I followed her as bidden. The doors closed behind us.
“I trust you’re enjoying yourself? Spending all day at that dirty, old building, feeding the unwashed masses.” She stilled, assessing me. “You’re filthy.”
I glanced down, noting an almost imperceptible splatter of sauce. I swiped at it uselessly. “We were making chili.”
With a disdainful look, she sat behind her desk, gesturing for me to take a seat of my own. “I’ve complied, let you do what you want.”
She waited expectantly.
I hesitated, unsure how to respond—she hadn’t exactly asked a question.
“Well,” I started, “it’s only been two weeks, but we’ve made a lot of progress. I think I’ve found a new site and appointed—”
“So you’re pleased with our bargain?”
I paused, recognizing a trap when I saw one, but there was no way out except through. “Yes,” was all I allowed.
“Unsurprisingly, I find myself disappointed.” Flat red lips to match her flat and furious voice. “Against my better judgment, I’ve stayed out of your way, given you the room you asked for. I’ve given you all you’ve asked for. But you haven’t given me what I want.”
My brows inched together. “I’ve sat in every meeting required of me, even when it conflicted with my schedule. Like today, for instance. What is this board meeting, and when was it called? Because it wasn’t on my calendar. But I came when you commanded, just like we agreed.”
“Never mind that.” She waved her hand, and I realized she’d lied to get me here. There was no meeting.
Only another manipulation.
“As much as you like to believe I’m overbearing and malicious, all I have ever done is to protect you. To protect my company. What you believe is exercised control is not to confine you. It is to save you from yourself. I let your father have too much influence, and the result is this.” She gestured to me. “A martyr without the constitution to run Bower. But there’s no choice for either of us. This is what you were born to do. And it’s my job to teach you how. Because you will never, ever survive without my deconstructing what your father has done to you.”
“What he’s done?” I asked, lungs locked and defenses ringing. “He gave me love. Hope. A heart and a conscience. Only you would see those as liabilities.”
“Because they are. You are so naive, Margaret. And the only way to teach you is to strip you of what makes you weak.”
“Of what makes me me. Your answer is to break my spirit? To strip me of the things I want?”
“You don’t know what you want,” she said.
“And you do?”
An angry flush climbed up her neck, her jaw. “Better than you. You will learn to bend. You will learn to kneel. And then you will learn to fight for this company properly, or you will fail miserably.”
I swallowed my emotion and shook my head, confused. “What does any of this have to do with our bargain? What have I not done? Because from where I’m sitting, I’ve bent just as much as you have.”
Everything about her hardened, her eyes most of all. “You are keeping something from me.”
My eyes flicked to the ceiling for the briefest request for divine intervention. “That has nothing to do with what I do for Bower, nor does it apply to our agreement.”
“I disagree. Your secrets are my secrets, and my secrets have everything to do with Bower. You love to remind me you’re not a child, but the only way to condition you is through the most basic consequences. Time-outs. Earning your rewards. Transparency. You are not allowed secrets because you are not smart or wise enough to be trusted, not even with something so simple as which shoes to wear with that dress.”
The jab was nothing next to her crooked perspective.
“How novel that you’d take interest in mothering me now, given that you were absent when it counted. How fascinating that we would fight like a domineering mother and a rebellious teenager. I was always obedient—always. And then you tore my world apart and sent me away.”
“If your world hadn’t been fairy tales and gullible denial, I wouldn’t have had to tear it apart. I don’t blame you, Margaret. I blame myself for not training you from the start.”
“Oh, I blame you for so much, but not for who I am.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “It’s my mess to undo, starting with this—I’ve allowed your affair to go on long enough. Either you tell me who you’re seeing or you put an end to it.”
“You’ve allowed me?” I asked, my voice shaky, low, furious. “I don’t think you’re in a place to give me ultimatums. And while we’re on the topic of transparency, let’s not pretend this has anything to do with the company or whether I’m fit to run it. It’s you who wants to know and for no other reason than I won’t tell you. Does it drive you crazy, not knowing something I do? Does my defiance drive you mad? Because I guarantee you, that will never stop.”