mumbled.
Maureen
made her way out of the kitchen and stopped for
a moment to look back at her daughter. She just smiled. “Guess I know
who we’ll be voting for in the next election,” she mused.
***
“Mom?”
Michelle called to Candace.
“Hum?”
“You
know Marianne doesn’t mean to be such a…”
“Bitch?”
Candace finished her daughter’s statement. Michelle sniggered. “Yes, I know.”
“She
just wishes we were all closer, I think,” Michelle offered. Candace just
smiled. Michelle was the typical middle child. She had always been the
peacemaker. They had just returned from taking Jonah to the airport for his
flight home. Candace had enjoyed the weekend with her two younger children;
although they were no longer children. Pearl had joined them on Saturday
afternoon for a late lunch and some old movies. They had all agreed to an
internet chat with Marianne in the late afternoon that day. It had started out
well. The kids were catching up and cooing over little Spencer. Then it turned ugly.
Pearl
mentioned the remodel of the house and she and Candace began to talk about
Jameson and her plans. Marianne’s reaction was less than accommodating, and far
below interested. She had scolded her mother that it was a waste of time and
money. None of the children wanted to live in that house. Why on earth was she
so adamant about investing in something like an old house? After all, Candace
was in Washington the majority of the year. And, Marianne wondered what kind of
accomplished architect would accept such a project. Candace had grown used to
Marianne’s harsh criticisms regarding her choice of living arrangements, and
her desire to continue working until such time as she deemed retirement was
necessary or wanted. Candace did not appreciate her daughter’s freely given
assessments about her life, but it was not a battle she felt was worthy of her
energy. She had no intention of changing her home, nor any inclination to
change her career. Sooner or later, she was positive Marianne would give up the
ghost and learn to live with it all. Marianne’s comments and unsolicited
assumptions about Jameson had touched a nerve in Candace. No one anticipated
Candace’s reaction.
“An architect? Mother, are you sure this woman is an architect and not some scam artist?”
Candace held her temper in check. “I do know how
to check references, Marianne.”
“Yes, well; you also give everyone the benefit of
the doubt.”
“She’s a good friend of Dana and Steve’s; if you
must know. And, she is quite accomplished,” Candace said. She mentally pictured
Jameson and smiled.
“Why on earth would a successful person such as you
have described want to wander around some old house in the boonies? Are you
sure she isn’t after something else?”
Pearl was watching Candace from across the room
and immediately caught the senator’s change in expression. “Uh oh,” she
whispered to Michelle.
“And, just what do you think she might be after?”
Candace asked her daughter.
“Mother, please. You are a powerful, wealthy
woman. How is it that someone as educated and intelligent as you are, cannot
see the handwriting on the wall?”
“I see all the writing very clearly, Marianne.
Perhaps, you are reading in a different language than me.”
“I am simply trying to protect you.”
Candace took a deep breath and steadied herself.
She prided herself on maintaining control when arguments arose. She had always
guided her children with a firm yet gentle hand. Few times in the past had Candace ever raised her voice to one
of her children, even when she had been furious about one of their actions or
decisions. Marianne had just entered treacherous waters with her mother.
Candace was about to tell her daughter to tread lightly.
“I appreciate your concern. I am more than capable
of judging a person’s character and motives for myself,” Candace said.
“Oh, like Jessica?”
“Jameson is not Jessica,” Candace