Barbara laughed and shook her head. “She hates me. She thinks I’m a selfish fool, just like you do, and she makes it perfectly clear. Oh, you’ll see, Joan. Once she’s really yours. It’s no picnic. She hates me. One day she’ll hate you, too. You’ll finally see it then. And it will be too late, because I won’t accept your apology. But in the meantime, go for it. She’s all yours.”

Joan stared at her. But Barbara’s face did not seem sad or angry so much as unflinching. Her eyes had gone dead.

This was Barbara’s whole plan. Joan was her get-out-of-jail-free card.

“You are seriously going to let this child be alone on Thanksgiving?”

“I am going to let her learn that it’s not always about her and that it’s time that my life starts, too. Yes, I am. But you seem to want to be her mother, so go right ahead.”

Part of Joan felt like she could not give Barbara the satisfaction. She was going to abandon her child and flit off to Europe, leaving Joan to handle all of the responsibilities. Joan shouldn’t participate in that.

But Frances deserved better than anything she could make Barbara begrudgingly give her. Frances needed someone to truly care and to show it. Someone to be there.

In that moment, all Joan could think of was the joy of having Frances back. Of getting to spend each evening helping her with her homework. Of taking her to the movies each weekend. Of seizing those rare times when Frances would still let Joan kiss the top of her head.

Joan would do anything to get more of those moments. They were already slipping away so fast.

She would never let that go—never let Frances down—just to teach Barbara a lesson.

“Write a letter to the school giving me the power to make decisions for her and take her from the school,” Joan said. “Do it now.”

“You think I don’t mean it? Because I will do it.”

“Do it, Barbara! Now!”

Barbara went into the kitchen and scribbled on a piece of stationery with Daniel’s name at the top. Then she handed it to Joan. “I don’t want to see either of you before I go,” she said. “She threw a tantrum. And you played right into it.”

“You will call her tomorrow to wish her a happy Thanksgiving from the airport. If you don’t, I will call your hotel every hour on the hour until you get on the phone. Do you hear me? I think we both know Daniel won’t be happy with you if this gets messy. So if I were you, I’d call before noon and I’d stay on the phone for ten minutes and I’d make it count.”