As always, Patricia answered the phone with a brusque, “Yes?”
“Mom,” Emily said, inhaling, trying to hold onto her courage. “I have something to tell you.”
There was little point in pretending to make polite conversation. Neither of them wanted that. May as well cut to the chase.
“Oh?” Patricia said flatly.
Emily had thrown a few curveballs her mom’s way over the last year, from upping and leaving her home in New York, breaking up with Ben after seven years together, running off to Sunset Harbor, opening a B&B, and falling so madly in love with Daniel that she’d agreed to help raise his child. Her mom had, unsurprisingly, disapproved of every single one of Emily’s choices. The chances of her accepting the engagement were slim to none.
“Daniel asked me to marry him,” Emily finally managed to say. “And I agreed.”
There was a pause, one that Emily had predicted. Her mom used silence like a weapon, always providing Emily with enough time to worry about the thoughts that were crossing her mind.
“And you’ve been dating this man for how long?” Patricia finally said.
“Coming up to a year now,” Emily replied.
“One year. When you have fifty or so to spend together.”
Emily let out a huge sigh. “I thought you’d be happy I was finally settling down. You always loved rubbing it in my face how long you’d been married by my age.” Emily could hear the tone of her voice and cringed. Why did her mom always bring out the belligerent child in her? Why did she care so much about getting her approval when Patricia herself seemed to care so little about her daughter?
“I suppose he needs a mother for that child of his,” Patricia said.
Emily spoke between her teeth. “Her name is Chantelle. And that’s not why he asked. He asked because he loves me. And I said yes because I love him. We want to spend forever together so you should just get used to it.”
“We’ll see,” Patricia replied in a monotone way.
“I wish you could just be happy for me,” Emily said, her voice beginning to waver. “You’re going to be the mother of the bride, after all. People will expect to see you proud and cordial.”
“Who says I’m coming?” Patricia snapped back.
The words stung Emily like a slap. “What do you mean? Of course you’re coming, Mom, it’s my wedding!”
“There’s no of course about it,” Patricia replied. “I’ll RSVP to my wedding invitation when I receive it.”