Page 190 of Smooth Sailing

“Hardly after,” Mom said shakily, because the jig was up.

“Should we call Nicole?” Dad suggested. “See how her timeline matches up?”

“She’d lie too,” Mom snapped, finding her groove and sticking there.

“Margaret, what’s going on here?” Gram asked.

“Nothing, Mom. Nolan’s at his games again,” Mom stated.

“So you didn’t cheat on Dad with Brendon?” I requested clarity. “Dad hadn’t asked you for a divorce before Nicole and he became a thing? That didn’t happen? Even though you married Brendon within a few months of the divorce being final.”

“It was a whirlwind romance,” Mom said.

“You are honestly standing there lying to me in my own damned house?” I asked.

“Of course you believe him,” she complained. “It was always him and you against me.”

“No, it was always you and me against him, because you made it that way. What I failed to realize was that he was there for me and you were not!”

Okay, dang.

I was shouting.

But I couldn’t stop.

“You didn’t fight for custody! You didn’t help me pick my prom dress! You were never there for me! So I’m supposed to believe you were true to Dad?”

“He ruined our family!” Mom shouted back.

“Then why was he the one who kept us together after you left? Why were he and I still a family without you?”

“I didn’t have the means to look after you,” Mom sniped.

“You had healthy alimony. It would have been more with child support. You weren’t incapable of finding a job. You were in your thirties. You could build a life with your daughter.”

“It’s seems so easy when you say it, Diana,” she retorted. “It’s never that easy.”

I swung an arm out. “Look around, Mom. Do you think what I built here was easy? Newsflash, it wasn’t. But I did it anyway. Answer Dad. Should we call Nic and ask her how it went down? Maybe call Brendon, ask him?”

“Don’t you dare speak to that man,” Mom snapped.

“Why, because you hate him because he figured you out and scraped you off, or because he’ll verify Dad’s story? Or both?”

“I don’t need to put up with this,” Mom declared, turned on her expensive heel, and saw Hugger blocking the entrance to the dining room. “Step aside,” she demanded.

“Not until Di’s done with you,” Hugger replied.

“Step aside!” she shrieked.

“Margaret, look at me,” Gram demanded.

She did, to whine, “Tell this man to move, Mom.”

“Did you do what Diana said?” Gram asked.

Mom threw up both her hands. “Not you too.”

“Answer,” Gram demanded.

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