But she didn’t want to move away unless Stephen would come with her. No matter what her future held, it was going to involve him, too. He was too important to her now. As she dumped her bin of dirty dishes, she made a mental note to discuss it with him that evening. She checked her watch. She only had 25 minutes left in this shift. Thank God. Her left heel had a blister and it was killing her.
As she re-entered the dining room, she pulled up the one bra strap that persistently slipped off the edge of her shoulder and then froze in mid-step. At a tiny table in the back corner, away from everyone else in the small diner, a woman stood out like a sore thumb in her elegant cream-colored pantsuit and dark brown alligator Chanel shoes. She was looking out the window in agitation and drumming her perfectly manicured nails on the table- probably annoyed that she would have to be somewhere so… less than seemly. And that was putting it mildly.
Sydney was still frozen when Marge, the other waitress on duty, nudged her.
“Check out the snoot in the corner! Do you want to take her or do you want me to?”
Sydney swallowed hard. “I’ll take her. She’s my mother.”
She could feel Marge’s incredulous stare beating into her back as she doggedly trudged to her mother’s table. She couldn’t imagine what had made Jillian venture into this neighborhood and into this diner to see her. Maybe the world was ending.
“Mom.” Sydney stopped about a foot from the table and stared coldly at her mother.
“Sydney.” Her mother was every bit as cold. Disgusted with the place, agitated with her daughter, impatient with all of it. It was blatantly evident on her face. “You need to come home.”
“Why?” Shock was apparent in Sydney’s voice even though she had intended to sound impassive. A plea to come home was not something she had expected or was prepared for.
“You know why!” Her mother snapped loud enough for an elderly couple at the next booth to swivel their heads in surprise. Her mother regained her composure and spoke again, with a quieter, more controlled tone.
“For your father. You cannot go on living here. Not in this neighborhood. Not with your cousin. Your pregnancy is over. You don’t have to fight for it any longer.”
Every word was an icy bullet aimed at Sydney’s heart. Her mother only cared about appearances. Just like always.
“So, let me just recap. You don’t really care that I am living in this run-down neighborhood. You don’t care that I very recently lost my baby and the only person in the entire world that helped me or even cared was my very distant cousin, Stephen. You only care about what it looks like for my father’s career. I just want to make sure I’ve got it right.”
Her words were every bit as icy and she aimed them at her mother’s head. Jillian Ross didn’t even flinch.
“Sydney, stop being such an infant. You know how important this is. You’ve had your tantrum, now come home.”
Her mother’s face was hard. She was a beautiful woman, but there was not even an ounce of warmth in her eyes. In Sydney’s opinion, it detracted from her beauty.
“My tantrum? Mother, let me summarize for you this time. I don’t give a goddamn about my father’s career anymore. And you cannot make me come home. I turned 18 last week. I’m sure you meant to mail a birthday card, right? I will not be coming home. Not today, not next week, not ever. I already am home and I am finished being a prop for my father’s campaign. Completely done. And don’t think I don’t know what this is really about. It’s not about me. It’s about my father and what I know.”
Sydney spit the words, anger overtaking her so completely that she couldn’t think straight. She didn’t even care anymore if her mother hadn’t known. She suddenly realized that she didn’t feel any maternal connection with this woman. At all. All she felt was a strong dislike for her own mother. She should feel guilty, but she didn’t.
And she could see from the expression on Jillian’s face that her mother knew exactly what she was talking about. When she spoke, it only confirmed Sydney’s suspicion.
“You don’t know anything.” Icy tones, but her eyes betrayed her. There was fear there, hidden in the glittering pale blue depths.
“Oh, I do. My father is g*y. And you know about it. How long have you known? Do you even care? Or is the only thing you care about the life that he gives you—the social standing, the money, the jet…”
She trailed off as she took in her mother’s face.
“I’m right. You’ve known all along, haven’t you? And you’ve tolerated it, hidden it in exchange for this life. You’ve given him a cover story and he’s taken you with him up the ladder. Oh, wow. To think that I felt sorry for you for just a second when I found out. You’re really pathetic. You should leave now. And don’t come back.”
Her mother stared at her for a moment, her mouth forming a hard, straight line as she watched her daughter speak. Color stained her cheeks. Sydney assumed it was from anger. It certainly wasn’t from hurt or embarrassment. Her mother didn’t care enough to experience those emotions.
“You’ll be sorry, Sydney. Family is family. You can’t count on anyone else. Your father can open all kinds of doors for you.”
“I can open my own doors, thanks. And the only thing I’m sorry about is that we didn’t have this conversation sooner.”
Her hazel eyes shone like bronze as she stared her mother down, unflinching, unblinking.
Her mother held the stare for a minute longer and then gathered her purse and keys, stood to her full height and looked Sydney in the eye.
“If you don’t walk out that door with me right now, don’t bother coming back. Ever.”
Sydney didn’t move a muscle. She simply continued to hold her mother’s icy gaze for a moment longer before she spoke. She was so still that she could feel her own heart beat.
“You’re not really in a position to be giving me demands, now are you?”
Her mother shook her head derisively and stalked to the door, her heels clicking loudly as she went. She didn’t look back as she climbed into her Jag and slammed the door.