Immediate Family by Eileen Goudge Read Free Book Online Page B

“How nice of you to drop by,” she said, with the practiced ease of a seasoned pro.
    “I was in the neighborhood.” He grinned at his own joke, looking not the least bit surprised to see her. Was he in on the setup? Knowing her mother, it wouldn’t surprise her.
    Marjorie cocked her head, eyeing Emerson with such fervent brightness there could be no mistaking her intent. “Mr. Stancliffe was just telling me he lived next door to the Lyttons on Martha’s Vineyard. Isn’t that the most amazing coincidence?”
    That would be the Lyttons who were second cousins on Emerson’s father’s side. “I only met them once. To be honest, I thought they were kind of stuck-up,” she commented with a shrug.
    Marjorie darted her a black look before bringing her bright, fixed gaze back to Mr. Stancliffe. “Nonsense. They’re perfectly lovely people. Isn’t that what you were just telling me, Mr. Stancliffe.”
    “Actually, I didn’t know them all that well,” he confessed, darting Emerson an uncomfortably chummy look, as if they were in solidarity somehow. “Old Mr. Lytton invited me sailing once, but the wind kicked up and we had to call it off. I haven’t seen them since then.” He’d sold the house when he and his wife divorced, he explained.
    They chatted briefly about other things, familiar haunts and acquaintances they had in common. The white-shoe world was like a small town in that way: Everybody knew everybody, and if you went back far enough, chances were they were related to you. Emerson would have been bored silly if she hadn’t been seething inside. Just when she’d begun to think that all her efforts with her mother, not to mention the bills she paid, had accrued some sort of interest, she was reminded of what little value her mother placed on her wants and needs. It was Marjorie, after all, who’d pushed her to marry Briggs, then insisted she’d be a fool to divorce him when it was clear the marriage wasn’t working. And now, not content with ruining Emerson’s life once, she was aiming for a second time.
    Her thoughts were interrupted by Reggie appearing with the tea tray. She found her gaze straying toward him as he poured the tea, touched that he’d brought an extra cup in case she’d changed her mind. He moved with an almost balletic grace that was soothing to watch. Courteous without seeming subservient, he attended to her mother, making sure she had enough pillows to support her back and that she’d taken her medication.
    “You’ll see Mr. Stancliffe out, won’t you, darling?” Marjorie said when it was time for him to go, giving Emerson a pointed look as she rose to comply.
    At the door, when he once more pressed her to have dinner with him, Emerson told him she was sorry but she was devoting all her spare time to Marjorie these days. A devoted daughter who wanted nothing more than to throttle her mother right then.
    “How could you do that to me?” she berated Marjorie afterward. “You purposely set me up!”
    Her mother, sitting up in bed sipping her tea, appeared unruffled. “Honestly, darling, you’re making much too much of it. The man was just being neighborly.”
    “Then why did I feel like a sitting duck?”
    “Don’t be so dramatic.” Marjorie set her cup down on the night table, wincing at the effort. She was so frail, the tiniest movement was a strain. “Even if I did have an ulterior motive, is it a crime to look out for your only child?”
    “You could have at least warned me,” Emerson said.
    “If I had, you’d have invented some excuse not to come.”
    “You’re damn right!”
    “Darling, please.” Marjorie squeezed her eyes shut, as if in pain.
    Emerson felt her anger deflate, giving way to sadness. All her life, she’d wanted only to be loved for herself, not the ideal daughter she tried to be. Was that too much to ask?
    Abruptly, Marjorie changed the subject. “So what do you make of Reggie?”
    “He seems nice.” Emerson knew better than to reveal