Page 71 of Masked in Deception
We both laugh and dig into the chocolate cake Mom brought for dessert.
“Are you happy, darling? I know you mentioned one suitor in particular quite a few times in the last months before you moved back. I’ll admit I’ve been worried that perhaps you’ve been missing him since you’ve been home. Michel, was it? He was rather handsome in the photo you sent of the two of you at the opera.”
Aaanndddd there it is, folks.I knew she hadn’t been reminiscing and making grandbabies plural for no reason. I’m not sure what she knows or suspects, and I’m not giving her an inch. I’m definitely not broaching the subject of my favorite friend with benefits with her right now.
“What even is happiness, Mom? I’m creatively fulfilled, I have my health and a wonderful family. I’m making more friends in the city, and I listen to podcasts. What am I supposed to do to check the box that is happiness?”
This earns me a wan smile, like she was expecting exactly that answer. I swear, if she just knows what she wants us all to do, she should just come right out and tell us instead of her meddling machinations. Although her interference did work out well for Sloane and Ledger…
“I think it depends on what you want, sweetheart. Let me just say this, and then I’ll leave. My happiness came from having all of you kids while still helping your father run the company. I couldn’t have reached my full realization as a human without both. As much as I hated to miss a single game or recital, my time away from you all when I was working made me happier and a better mother when I came back. And now, as an older woman with children who have flown the coop, I’m lucky to still have those friends I made and contacts in the industry to dabble in projects now and again. It was a very privileged thing to be able to do.”
She’s gathering her things now, and I have no clue where she’s going with this.
“Ledger has now basically devoted himself to a domestic life with Sloane, and he’s happy. They work out, try new recipes, read, putter about in their garden, and he’s perfectly content. That’s a perfectly wonderful existence to aspire to as well.
“I want you to know that I’m proud of what you’ve built, Margot. It’s been amazing to watch you do it all on your own without using the family name once. And if it brings you utter fulfillment and joy, by all means, continue at the pace you’re going! Open all the stores! Do all the collabs. I’ll be right there with you.
“But if you feel like this was something you needed to do for yourself at a certain point in your life, and now you’re no longer in that place, maybe you have other things you aspire to. I think being here in the States and being around your family and themost important people from your past and present might help you feel out what happiness means for you right now.”
Why are there tears in my eyes? Jesus, is it period week again?
“Shoot, I’m late for my flight. Pickleball tournament!” After kissing my cheeks and giving me a big hug, Mom pauses on her way out the door. “Just think about it, Margot! Aggressively pursue happiness!”
And with that, my own personal psychic breezes out of my office. I swear, I think sometimes she just projects her daily horoscope email in the direction of whichever kid will listen. In any case, she’s given me a migraine and an excuse to get out of this damn construction zone. Pulling up my phone, I see new texts from both of the men who have been dominating my messages this week. Rolling my neck, I ignore them both. Instead, I place a grocery order for some fresh produce for tonight and call for the car, planning a long soak alone with my thoughts.And maybe my vibe.
Chapter fifty-three
I’ve sat throughSleeping Beautywith my own princess at my side more times than I can count. The ballet as a whole is nostalgic, but the Rose Adagio in particular brings me back. Margot had just started taking ballet classes, and when she found out that her favorite animated princess was actually based on Tchaikovsky’sSleeping Beauty, shehadto go. In true Sinclair fashion, Blanche loaded us all up and made Henry Sr. drive us to the ballet.
19 YEARS AGO
“Ugh, you aren’t doing it right, Ledger!” Margot whines from where she sits on the floor. I’ve lost count of how many times she’s fallen down, and with each failure, the tension in the air rises.
“Stop messing it up, son. We’ve been at this for hours, and some of us actually have things to be doing right now,” his dad says from his place in the line. It’s a rare occasion when Henry is home from boarding school, so she’s got all four of us lined up, just likeSleeping Beauty.
I’m behind Ledger, next up to greet the young princess, followed by Henry and Mr. Sinclair. “Dad, I don’t think Ledger is the problem.” Henry looks over at the pouting princess who’s still on the floor with arms folded across her chest. “Pretty sure it’s the six-year-old who just started taking ballet last month and is trying to accomplish what is commonly regarded as one of the most challenging sequences in the art.”
“Nonsense,” his father replies, walking over to lend Margot a hand. “Come on, Princess, let's try it one more time.”
It only takes one more failure before she’s decided that not only is she done with trying to master this particular move but she’s also done with ballet as a whole.
“Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart. It takesyearsto develop the skill required to stay en pointe long enough to successfully perform the Rose Adagio.” Ms. Blanche tries to console her daughter, to no avail.
“If she doesn’t want to do ballet anymore, I don’t see a reason to force her, Blanche. Lord knows she has enough extracurriculars at the moment,” Mr. Sinclair says before hugging both his wife and daughter and leaving the room, with Ms. Blanche soon to follow.
“Thank God. Let’s go.” Ledger slings his arm around Henry and leads him out, leaving me alone with the now crying princess.
I’m about to follow the guys to join in whatever they’re about to get up to when Margot lets out her most dramatic whimper yet. Sighing, I walk over to her instead.
“Hey, Princess,” I say, combing the hairs that have fallen out of her tight bun back behind her ear. “Look what I have. You want to go upstairs and watch a movie? I’ll even let you pickSleeping Beautyagain.”
She looks up at the chocolate truffles in my hand, and like magic, her tears disappear. “No!” She huffs as she grabs a chocolate out of my hand and pops it into her mouth. “I’m never watching that again.”
“Oh, come on, Princess. That’s your favoritest movie of all time, remember?”
“Not anymore, it’s not,” she huffs.
Before she can continue with some silly excuse, I pull her into a hug. “Margot, you don’t have to do ballet to be as good a princess as Aurora. You’re alreadyleaguesbetter than her or any other princess you come across. She can still be your favorite, even if you don’t loveeverythingabout her. It doesn’t have to be an all-or-nothing deal. You’ll find so many things in life that arealmostperfect, but just because it's not completely flawless doesn’t mean you should give it up.”
