Linda heard.
“At least she takes after our side of the family in most ways.”
Sarah raised her head.
There it was.
That line.
Not quite direct enough that Daniel could not explain it away later.
Direct enough that everyone understood.
Sarah stared at Linda.
“Don’t talk about my daughter like that.”
Melissa’s smile vanished.
Daniel froze.
Linda very slowly set down her wineglass.
“What did you say?”
Sarah felt Emma gripping her hand.
“I said don’t talk about Emma like that.”
Linda leaned back.
“This is my house.”
Sarah’s voice remained quiet.
“She is my daughter.”
“And my granddaughter.”
“That doesn’t give you permission to use her to insult me.”
Linda’s mouth hardened.
“I was complimenting her.”
“No.”
Sarah said it firmly.
“You weren’t.”
Daniel whispered, “Sarah.”
She turned.
“Not now.”
His eyebrows rose.
Linda noticed.
Of course she noticed.
Every family had a center of gravity.
In the Harrington family, it was Linda.
People adjusted their emotional orbit around her moods.
Daniel had done it since childhood.
Melissa did it automatically.
Linda’s younger brother, Peter, had spent dinner nodding before she finished sentences.
Even Linda’s widowed cousin Diane, who lived in Wisconsin and only came south for holidays, had somehow learned when to laugh.
Sarah had never learned.
Or perhaps she had simply refused.
Linda pushed her chair away from the table.
“Do not speak to my son that way.”
Sarah stared at her.
“I’m speaking to my husband.”
“In my home.”
“Yes.”
“Everything you do is disrespectful.”
Daniel rubbed his forehead.
“Mom, please.”
That was the first time he had addressed Linda directly.
But even then it was not a defense.
It was an attempt to lower the temperature.
Linda stood.
Sarah noticed the shift in Emma instantly.
Her daughter moved closer.
Linda walked around the table.
“I have spent three years trying to welcome you into this family.”
Sarah almost laughed.
Three years?
They had been married eleven.
Perhaps Linda meant three years since the latest phase of her campaign began.
Maybe that was when she stopped pretending.
Sarah stood too.
“I’m taking Emma home.”
Daniel finally pushed back his chair.
“Sarah, come on.”
“No.”
“It’s Christmas Eve.”
“I know.”
“You’re really going to walk out?”
Sarah stared at him.
His concern was still about the evening.
The holiday.
The embarrassment.
Not about what had been said.
Linda reached Sarah first.
Her hand closed around Sarah’s wrist.
Hard.
“Sit down.”
Sarah looked at her hand.
“Let go of me.”
Linda tightened her fingers.
“You do not storm out of my dinner because someone told you the truth.”
Emma began crying.
“Grandma, stop.”
Sarah pulled backward.
“Linda, let go.”
Linda’s face was inches from hers.
“You need to learn that not every room revolves around you.”
Sarah jerked her wrist free.
And Linda slapped her.
It happened so quickly that Sarah did not understand it until after the sound.
A sharp crack.
Her head turned.
Her shoulder struck the table.
A serving bowl tipped.