SO YOU SMILED, SAID “THAT’S FINE, DEAR,” AND USED ONE SIGNATURE TO DESTROY THE SCHEME SHE DIDN’T KNOW YOU’D ALREADY SEEN COMING
You understand perfectly.
That is what you tell Megan while your heart beats so hard it makes your vision pulse. At seventy, you have learned that humiliation arrives hot, but power works cold. So you tighten your fingers around the handle of your suitcase, ignore the teenage girl who suggested a hotel as if you were some lonely stranger who took a wrong turn, and give your daughter-in-law the kind of small, polite smile that once helped you survive thirty-eight years of customers who wanted miracles finished by Thursday.
“Of course,” you say. “You all enjoy yourselves.”
Megan’s grin widens in triumph.
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