Page 73 of What the Wife Knew

Poor Wyatt, always stuck in the middle of his parents’ tirades. They seemed to drag the kid out whenever they needed cover, reinforcements, or a witness. He served as both security guard and accomplice. I was ready for him to go back to school. When was that happening?

Mom asked a question before I could ask mine. “Why did you bring your mother with you today? You have to know it’s uncomfortable for Addison to have her here.”

Wyatt shrugged. “She asked.”

Mother loyalty. Kathryn insisted and Wyatt put aside his discomfort out of a warped sense ofI owe you. He grew up in a household where parenthood was an unspoken tit-for-tat battle. I got it because I’d lived it, too.

Time for them to leave. “Doesn’t matter. You can take these boxes, Wyatt.”

Mom eyed up Kathryn. “We can send over whatever else you need. There’s no reason for continued family visits.”

Mom really was a ray of sunshine. She also wasn’t wrong... about this. “For the record, Kathryn, I will not be putting out a statement of support for Richmond or saying anything to help his reputation. The public bashing appears to be deserved.”

Kathryn gasped on cue. “You are the worst decision Richmond ever made.”

“No. My daughter wasn’t Richmond’s biggest mistake.” Momsmiled in a way that gave off horror movie vibes. “I think we both know what that was.”

The mood of minimal tolerance shattered. Every word ratcheted up the stark energy in the room. A seething anger, targeted, the kind that comes from a trail of broken promises and personal disappointments, choked the entryway. The conversation had shifted from an annoying game of one-upmanship to an epic standoff between two women with what sounded like a secret shared past and palpable anger that had festered for decades.

Tension clawed at the back of my throat as I attempted to swallow and breathe without gasping. My mother had little more than a passing acquaintance with the truth. I’d had that epiphany a long time ago as I watched her live her life and plan out mine. This was a whole other level ofwhat the fuck.

Kathryn returned Mom’s stare. “Lizzy. That’s short for Elizabeth, right? Interesting because I once knew an Elizabeth. Horrid creature.”

“Aren’t you the charming socialite?”

“In my defense, some people come into your life who aren’t worth remembering. Then they pop up again and the bad memories come flooding back. You have no choice but to deal with them.”

The voice in my head that saidstop thisgot outvoted by my curiosity. Neither of these women were built to back down, which meant this could end up in a verbal massacre.

“I’m trying to imagine you as a young girl, Lizzy.” Kathryn’s smile promised trouble. “Pathetic and craving attention. Flirting, hanging around where you weren’t wanted. Generallybeing a nuisance as you begged for attention. Any kind of attention.”

Mom shrugged. “It’s better than being a spoiled little bitch with no personality or dreams. You know, the kind that might become a washed-up trophy wife who can’t hold her man.”

Oh, shit.

“What’s happening?” Wyatt asked.

You don’t want to know, kid.

“Your mother is talking, Wyatt. Let her speak.” Mom’s voice shifted to taunting. “Do you have something to ask me, Kathryn?”

If she didn’t, I did. But Kathryn didn’t say a word.

“I didn’t think so.” Mom shifted her gaze to Wyatt. She looked from him to the boxes stacked in front of him. “Lift with your knees.”

Mom delivered her line as if she’d been practicing the dismissal for years. She headed for the stairs, leaving Kathryn staring after her and Wyatt juggling the boxes. No one said another word until I shut the front door after our unwanted guests left.

“Want to tell me what that was about?” I asked.

Mom stopped halfway up the grand staircase. “Women like Kathryn need to have the last word. I refused to give it to her.”

The answer didn’t have anything to do with my question. I knew a little about Mom’s upbringing. The few bits she shared because they fit her agenda or furthered her you-owe-me narrative. Her submissive mom, out-of-the-picture dad, and distant stepfather. The volatile household exploded when her stepfather found the pregnancy test.

Getting kicked out of her house and bouncing around distant relatives’ couches started the pattern that would repeat throughout her life—alone even when in a relationship and openly hostile to any form of affection. She expected rejection, almost welcomed it. She kept me at a distance, silently blaming me for the crashing of her dreams.

Then there was my dad. The boy who was gone from Mom’s life long before she went into labor. The free ticket out of her unhappy existence who disappointed her in the end just like everyone else.

Very few of those stories mentioned Kathryn and even then only as an afterthought. “You worked at the Doughertys’ country club.”

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