Her voice remained quiet.
“You had six years to explain.”
“Tomorrow you can explain it to the accountants.”
Olivia and Charlotte exchanged looks.
Samantha continued.
“It means you are not arranging either of them into marriages.”
Charlotte actually laughed through tears.
Victoria looked offended.
“I was not—”
“You ordered two custom gowns and ran a background check on Adrian Langford.”
Silence.
Samantha looked toward Olivia.
“If you want him, date him.”
“Don’t want him because Mom wants you to.”
Olivia nodded.
Samantha turned toward Charlotte.
“Same.”
Charlotte smiled weakly.
“Okay.”
Finally Samantha looked at Victoria.
“You can stay in the house for now.”
“For now?”
“Yes.”
Victoria seemed unable to comprehend being given conditional permission to remain in a mansion she had called hers for decades.
“What exactly do you expect me to do?”
Samantha thought.
“Nothing for me.”
The answer hurt.
Victoria’s face showed it.
“I mean it.”
“Don’t cook for me.”
“Don’t apologize every morning.”
“Don’t suddenly act like I’m the daughter you always wanted because I control a trust.”
Victoria’s lips trembled.
“Then how do I fix this?”
Samantha looked at her mother for a long time.
“You don’t.”
Silence.
“You change what you do next.”
Victoria cried.
Samantha did too.
Neither moved toward the other.
That night there was no grand dinner.
Evelyn ordered pizza.
Actual pizza.
Delivered to a mansion where several hundred dollars of catered food sat untouched in warming ovens.
They ate in the kitchen.
Malcolm stayed for one slice.
Olivia changed out of her burgundy gown and appeared wearing sweatpants.
Charlotte removed her diamonds.
Victoria did not come downstairs.
Samantha sat at the island where she had eaten standing up hundreds of times.
For once, someone else handed her a plate.
Evelyn.
Samantha took it.
Then said, “Sit.”
Evelyn blinked.
“What?”
“Sit down.”
“I’m working.”
“No.”
Samantha smiled through exhaustion.
“You’re eating.”
Evelyn slowly sat.
Nobody served anyone.
They passed the pizza box around.
It was the strangest birthday dinner Samantha could remember.
Also the best.
At eleven thirty, Samantha went upstairs.
She did not go to the seamstress room.
She stopped halfway down the hall.
The mansion had six empty guest suites.
She opened the largest one.
Ocean view.
Fireplace.
Balcony.
A bed large enough for three people.
She stood inside.
Olivia appeared behind her.
“You taking this one?”
Samantha looked around.
“I think so.”
Olivia leaned against the door.
“Good.”
A pause.
Then:
“Can I help you move your stuff?”
Samantha almost said no automatically.
Then stopped.