Chapter 4

That evening, my apartment felt like a pressure cooker.

My father, Uncle Frank, and Aunt Susan were waiting for me. They sat on my sofa, a tribunal of disapproval.

Robert spoke first, his voice tight with controlled anger. "Sarah, your mother is devastated. Absolutely beside herself."

Aunt Susan chimed in, her tone sharp. "Frank and I heard what happened at your office. Honestly, Sarah, creating such a public spectacle. Your mother was just trying to show she cares."

"She embarrassed herself, and by extension, the entire family," Uncle Frank added, his jowls quivering. "You need to be more considerate of her feelings. She' s not young."

They were ganging up on me, just like they always did. Brenda had clearly fed them her version of events, where she was the loving mother and I was the ungrateful, difficult daughter.

"I understand she was upset," I said, keeping my voice even. "But her actions had serious consequences for my career."

"Career, career, is that all you think about?" Aunt Susan sniffed. "Family is what matters. And you humiliated your mother."

Robert sighed heavily. "Sarah, you need to apologize to her. Smooth things over. For the sake of peace."

For the sake of his peace, he meant. So he wouldn' t have to deal with Brenda' s hysterics.

I looked at their determined faces. Arguing was pointless. They wouldn't believe me, or they wouldn't care.

This was a script I knew well.

So, I decided to play my part.

I let my shoulders slump. I conjured a look of remorse.

"You're right," I said, my voice soft and contrite. "I wasn't thinking about her feelings. I've been selfish."

They exchanged satisfied glances.

"I'll go talk to her," I said. "I'll apologize."

Brenda was in my guest room, supposedly too overwrought to go home. She was lying on the bed, a damp cloth on her forehead.

She peeked at me when I entered. "Oh, Sarah. I just don't understand why you're so angry with me."

Her voice was weak, tremulous.

I sat on the edge of the bed. I took her hand. It felt limp and cool.

"Mom," I said, injecting as much fake sincerity as I could muster. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Her eyes widened slightly.

"I'm sorry for embarrassing you," I continued. "I'm sorry for being difficult. I should always listen to you. You always know best."

A small, triumphant smile played on her lips. It was fleeting, but I saw it.

"Oh, honey," she said, patting my hand. "I knew you'd understand. I only want what's best for you. A mother always knows."

She thought she had me back under her thumb.

Little did she know, her "victory" was exactly what I needed for the next stage of my plan.

The apology cost me nothing. But it bought me leverage.