Page 71 of Country Mist

Celine sipped from the glass. “Liquid courage,” some said. Celine simply considered it to be a fluid way to deal with crap or just plain forget.

Meredith’s voice tugged Celine to the present. “I saw a gorgeous new pair of earrings at Tiffany’s.”

“I have to stay.” She wanted to cry at the thought of all the money she had to pay out, not counting the ransomware blackmailing thing. Instead, she swallowed the rest of her drink, then raised her empty glass. “Apparently, I need more wine.”

Meredith groaned. “Celine, what’s going on?”

“I’m okay.” Celine had never had a female friend like Meredith. She had made her way into Celine’s life until she had to admit that Meredith was a special person, and one of the best things that had happened in her life. “This is my career and I need to take care of business.”

Meredith’s sigh was audible over the phone. “I suppose you’re right. I just worry about you.”

“I know.” Celine smiled. “You’re a wonderful friend and I love you for it.” She set her wine glass on the nightstand. “I’m tired and I’m going to get some sleep.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Meredith yawned. “I didn’t realize it’s so late. It’s nearly midnight here.”

Celine laughed. “You knew exactly what time it is. You just wanted to check on me.”

“Busted.” Meredith’s grin was clear in her voice. “Good night, Celine. I’ll talk with you tomorrow. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Celine’s smile lasted until she said, “Good night,” and disconnected the call.

She looked at the wall across the bed while she sipped wine. She really didn’t know if she’d be able to sleep.

Maybe she needed to start going to a shrink. Mother had always thought therapists and psychiatrists, and the best possible meds, were the answer to everything. Mother would have been livid if she had known Celine spit out the meds they had forced her to take for so-called depression.

Celine had not been depressed. She’d been hurt, sad, in pain, and heartbroken…but mostly filled with devastating guilt. That didn’t mean she needed drugs. Some people did, and that was okay. But she hadn’t.

However, her mother had seen to it the psychiatrist prescribed some designer antidepressant that had cost a ridiculous amount every month.

And her mother’s voice—it rang in her head, as if she was in the room, with her correcting, criticizing, ordering, demanding.

Take your medicine, Celine. It’s for your own good.

Be calm and act like a lady.

Ladies do not cry.

Do what you’re told or you will regret crossing me.

Don’t wear that. You look fat in it.

A kindergartner could put on makeup better than that.

Celine gritted her teeth and closed her eyes. Stop it. Stop the mom-voice before it really gets up to speed. Her arm ached to throw her glass in the cold fireplace.

She took a deep, calming breath and let herself relax. She imagined tension leaving every part of her body.

In spite of brick walls she’d had to break through, she had started her own business from scratch and broke into a tough industry during a financial downturn. The success of her business had been amazing.

Now she needed to take amazing and boost it into incredible. She needed everyone’s eyes on her designs. With a successful launch of her latest line, her designs would be in stores across the country.

She smiled. She’d worked her butt off to get here without using the checking account Mother and Father had set up for her when she was young. She had taken what money she had used for college and repaid every cent back into that account, including interest.

It had been so important to pay her way, create, and become successful on her own.

And that was exactly what she’d done.

Celine set the wine glass on the nightstand and sank into her pillows. Part of her need for success was to be able to donate to a cause that meant more to her than anything. A charity that brought Arabian horses and underprivileged teenagers together.

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