Chapter 3

The locket incident had shaken my father, but Brenda' s patterns were too ingrained to disappear.

A few weeks later, back in Austin, I was a finalist for a transfer to my company' s European headquarters. It was a dream opportunity, a way out.

I kept it quiet, especially from Brenda.

But she had a sixth sense for when I was trying to escape her orbit.

Suddenly, she started showing up unannounced at my high-security office building.

"Sarah, honey, I brought you lunch!" she' d chirp, holding up a container of something elaborate and messy, usually smelling strongly of garlic.

My office had a strict policy about visitors and food deliveries.

"Mom, you can't just come here like this," I' d say, trying to usher her out discreetly. "It's a secure building."

"Oh, don't be silly! I'm your mother! I just want to make sure you're eating properly. You work too hard."

Her "concern" was a weapon.

She' d bring stews that sloshed, pies that crumbled, and once, a whole roasted chicken.

My colleagues would stare. My manager looked increasingly annoyed.

I tried reasoning with her. "Mom, please, call before you come. Or better yet, let's meet for lunch outside the office."

"But it' s no trouble! I love cooking for you."

Her visits became more frequent, more disruptive. She' d try to chat with my coworkers, telling them embarrassing childhood stories about me.

The final straw came during a crucial week. The European CEO was visiting our Austin office. It was my chance to make a final, strong impression.

I had a meeting scheduled with him and my direct supervisors.

Just as we were heading into the conference room, Brenda appeared in the lobby.

This time, she wasn't carrying food. She looked distraught, her hair messy, her eyes red.

She spotted me and burst into loud, theatrical sobs.

"Sarah! My baby girl! How can you do this to your family?"

Heads turned. The European CEO, a distinguished older gentleman, stopped and looked on with a mixture of surprise and alarm.

Brenda rushed towards me, grabbing my arm. "These heartless corporations! Tearing families apart! Don't let them send you so far away! We need you here!"

She was wailing, clinging to me, making a huge scene.

"Mom, please, not now," I hissed, my face burning with humiliation.

My manager tried to intervene. "Mrs. Miller, perhaps this isn't the time or place..."

"You don't understand!" Brenda cried, turning to the CEO. "She's all I have! And you're trying to take her away from me, across the ocean!"

The CEO looked extremely uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. "Perhaps, Miss Miller, we should postpone our discussion."

My heart sank.

Security eventually escorted a "grieving" Brenda out of the building.

Later that day, my manager called me into his office.

"Sarah," he said, his face grim. "About the European transfer... it's been put on hold. Indefinitely."

The official reason was "concerns about focus and potential personal distractions."

Brenda had won. Again.

Or so she thought.