“Yeah, but it’s better than him getting away with it again. Too many get away with shit like this.”
“True, it’s better than nothing, I guess.”
We both grow silent, engrossed in the documentary playing on screen, only occasionally speaking. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, quite the opposite. I’m comfortable enough to relax and let my guard down around Margaret.
“Well, that’s one fucked-up story,” is her only reply once the documentary is over and the credits are rolling up the screen.
“Yeah. Narcissists are scary people,” I mutter and think, just like my mother. But I don’t say this, all that would do is open me up to even more questions I’m not ready to face yet.
I can feel her eyes on me, trying to look past my façade, so I keep looking at the screen like the credits are the most interesting part of the movie.
I hear her sigh, deep and long. “You’ll come back next week with Lizzie.” Her tone is final, clearly letting me know this isn’t a question but a command she expects to be obeyed. “Next up is Mommy Dead and Dearest. Make sure you get here on time.”
For a minute, I sit here stunned speechless. Even though she’s being rather demanding and bossy, it doesn’t feel like it. Her attitude is underlying with love and affection, respect even, and not the mean and condescending arrogance I’m used to from my mother and her entourage.
Before I have time to respond though, Lizzie walks up. “Ready to go, Montana?”
Standing up, I look at Margaret. “Thank you for a lovely morning. And I’ll be back next week. I wouldn’t want to miss Mommy Dead and Dearest.”
Her smile is one of satisfaction. Like she knew exactly what I’d do before I did. “Good.”
I turn around to leave when her last words cause me to trip over my own feet and reconsider the promise I just made. “And don’t take Kade’s attitude to heart. My stubborn grandson will get over being a jackass eventually.”
I don’t answer, I’m unable to form a reply, and only stare at Lizzie with big eyes, my face no doubt letting her know just how shocked I am.
“Yeah.” She nods. “That’s Kade’s grandmother. Isn’t she lovely?”
I narrow my eyes at her self-satisfied smirk, like she planned this for some reason. But I don’t understand how making me like Kade’s grandma would suddenly endear me to him? That’s highly unlikely after everything that happened.
“Yeah, she is,” I answer while internally I wonder how the hell it happened that I ended up adoring Kade’s grandmother when I swore—at least in my head—to dislike anything to do with Kade. Despite how childish that might sound.
Chapter Nine
“You seemed to have a good time back there with Gram,” Lizzie notes, as soon as we step into the freezing March air and start walking toward her truck.
“Yeah, I did.” And I’m not lying, Gram’s a hoot. She’s as obsessed with anything true crime as me, which means she’s not weirded out by me talking incessantly about a case like Maura Murray.
“You realize she was serious about you having to come back next week, right? She won’t let you out of coming by again.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
Her laugh is light and infectious. Like she barely has a care in the world. Must be nice. “She likes you, which is more than most other people in this town can say.”
I shrug, unsure of what to think about this whole situation. “I guess. At least one person in that family can tolerate my presence.”
She’s about to start the car but turns toward me and squeezes my forearm lightly. “I know you think Kade hates you, but he doesn’t. He’s just… dealing with some personal issues right now. He’ll come around as soon as he sees you’re not the person he thinks you are.”
There it is again.
Because I’ve made mistakes in the past—mistakes that unfortunately were publicized due to my mother, and the success I was having at a young age—I have to redeem myself to everyone I encounter, regardless of whether or not my actions had any kind of effect on them. The bad person I used to be will always be the one they see first, not who I am now, seven years later.
The people in this town, without knowing the full story, will always look at me to make it right with them. They’ll always see me as my mother’s daughter, the woman who left one of their own for her own selfish reasons. They’ll always equate me to her and her actions, regardless of the fact that I was ten years old when we left and had zero say in the decision that was made.
What none of them realize is that I would happily do whatever it takes to change their opinion of me if they’d show me they actually care about me and not just my drama, which so far no one’s done but Margaret. Even Lizzie accepts the rumors about me as facts without bothering to ask me about their veracity.
She starts the car and pulls out onto the road while I dismiss her reassurance. “I guess.” I’m past caring what that man thinks of me, or so I tell myself. “I don’t care if Kade likes me as long as he takes care of Whisky and is able to get him ready for this summer.”
“He will,” her voice is filled with conviction. It makes me wish I could share her confidence. “You’ll compete
