The Ignore Daughter Have True Honor Chapter 09
“About what?” I asked.
She reached out and caught my sleeve. Her fingertips were cold.
“Hazel, can you —” Her throat moved. Her voice caught. “Can you just talk to me? For a few minutes.”
I’d never seen Serena like this before.
“Okay. Ten minutes.”
We crossed the street and went into a Blue Bottle Coffee.
“The Instagram post from last night, that was me,” she said, worrying her lower lip. “I didn’t want people talking. The truth is the wedding fell apart.”
“After Mr. Ashford left, Julian’s father called him back to the estate. He hasn’t called me. Not once. Hazel, I don’t know what to do.”
I tapped the table and looked at her.
“Say what you actually came to say. You have eight minutes.”
Her eyes filled again.
“Hazel, could you talk to Mr. Ashford? Julian is just scared his grandfather is going to hold this against him. That’s why he hasn’t come to me. It’s not that he doesn’t want to marry me. Please just say something. Tell Mr. Ashford not to blame him —”
“First,” I said, cutting her off.
“I didn’t ask Mr. Ashford to do anything to you or Julian. I haven’t got the time or interest.”
Serena froze.
“Second.” I looked her in the eye. “When things went sideways yesterday, Julian’s choice was to leave you alone at your own wedding and walk out the door. Whether or not he has any spine is something you’ll want to sit with.”
Her whole face locked in place.
The soft shell she’d been holding together started to crack, and something sharper began to show through the seams.
“Hazel Whitmore.”
She said the whole name.
“You must be enjoying this.”
“You were never as good as any of us. Not the grades. Not with Mom and Dad. In every family photo you’re pushed to the edge.”
“And now you’re standing over all of us watching us crash and burn. You must be loving every second of it.”
She stared at me, her eyes bloodshot.
I stood up.
“Serena. Instead of guessing what I’m thinking, why don’t you use the energy on figuring out how to save your marriage.”
Her pupils contracted.
“Making Julian want you back. Keeping the Mrs. Ashford title. That’s what you should be worrying about. Anything you spend on me is wasted.”
I walked around her and out of the café.
Behind me I heard a raw, ragged shriek.
Then the muffled thud of a Chanel bag hitting the floor and the sharp crack of an iPhone screen.
“Hazel! You’ve got a few patents, so what! Who do you think you are!”
“You think you’re something special?!”
I didn’t look back.
—
A few days later.
Someone knocked on the door of the Presidential Suite.
I opened it.
My parents stood there with gift bags in hand, their faces stretched into wide, ingratiating smiles.
Elliot pulled out his iPhone the moment he stepped in and started filming an Instagram Story.
“The Presidential Suite! What is this a night?”
Melanie linked her arm through mine, smiling. “Hazel, you’re really living, aren’t you? Not like the rest of us grinding out our nine-to-fives. I’m honestly so jealous.”
I pulled my arm free.
“Why are you here.”
My mother nudged Serena forward.
Serena stumbled a half step ahead of the group and her voice came out small, thin. “Hazel, about the café, and about the wedding… I was wrong.”
“I shouldn’t have tried to set you up at my wedding, and I shouldn’t have said the things I said. I was upset. I lashed out. Please don’t hold it against me.”
“That’s right, that’s right,” my mother chimed in eagerly. “She knows she messed up. She’s been crying at home, not eating, not sleeping. You two are sisters. Blood is thicker than water. Hazel, please. Just this once.”
My father nodded from behind her. “Yes, Hazel. If it makes you feel better, you can scold her a little. Really let her have it.”
For twenty-eight years, every time Serena and I had a conflict, this had always been the line.
“You’re the older one. You have to set an example for her.”
“She’s still young. You shouldn’t stoop to her level.”
Serena had never once been asked to apologize.
Not asked to apologize. Not even asked to tone it down.
And now they’d brought her over to apologize to me in person.
Which taught me something, I suppose.
Favoritism can, in fact, be reversed.
Not because anyone realized they were wrong.
But because I no longer stood in the same place I used to.
The moment you’re heavy enough, standing high enough, whatever preferences seemed permanent in that family turn out to be paper thin.
“Apology received.”
“You can leave now. I’m heading back to New York in a couple of days. I have things to handle.”
“New York?” Elliot’s eyes lit up. He pocketed his phone. “Hazel, we’ve never been to New York. We should come visit.”
“Sure,” I said. “You come, I’ll take you out to dinner. I’ll cover the hotel.”
My mother’s smile flickered.
“Hotel?” She frowned. “You can’t just put us up at your place? A single licensing deal netted you ten million. You must have some huge place in New York. What kind of family stays in a hotel when you have a home right there? That’s cold.”
Elliot backed her up. “Right. Your place has to be huge. Why waste it standing empty when family’s in town?”
I looked at them, and I smiled.
“I do have a home.”
“But it’s my home. It has nothing to do with any of you.”
The temperature in the room dropped.
My mother’s smile froze on her face.
“When I came back to Newport, didn’t I stay at a hotel?”
Nobody had a response for that.
My mother’s face went through several colors, but nothing came out of her mouth.
Elliot pretended to be very interested in the hotel welcome packet. My father cleared his throat.
I pulled the door open. “If there’s nothing else, please. I’m busy.”
Before she left, my mother paused. Her voice was low.
“Hazel… you’re not going to forgive me, are you.”
I said, “No.”
And I closed the door.