Not that my mother knows much about working. She helped my father design this place and bought everything to outfit it, but that’s where it ended. Being a trophy wife was my mother’s aspiration in life, and she wears it well.

Just then, Jessica emerges from the front office, carrying papers, and Amelia rushes to her. “Jessica!”

“Amelia.” She smiles at my little girl and then leans down to give her a hug. “You look very pretty today.”

“So do you! Yaya took me shopping today and bought me this pretty dress since Grandpa is away again.”

“Who is Yaya?” Jessica looks a little confused, but then spots my mother and rises. “Mrs. Parkerson.”

“Hello, Jessica. It’s been a very long time.”

Jess puts a smile on her face, but I can see it’s not real. “Yes, it has. It’s nice to see you again.”

My mother turns her face just slightly. “You’re the help now?”

“The what?”

“You work here, for my family.”

“Mother,” I say in a warning.

Jessica doesn’t seem fazed. “Yes, I just started, actually.”

“Funny how your mother started working here after her failed marriage, and now you’re here after your failed career.”

“You. I . . . that . . . crash.”

That one strikes exactly where it was meant to, and I won’t let Jessica be upset and stutter in front of her. “And you’re leaving,” I say, placing my hand on her back. “I know you have a very busy day and need to prepare to be charitable. I’m sure the effort you’ll need to do that is far too important to waste here.”

My mother pats my cheek. “I’ll let you be, and . . . not waste more time. Your father returns tomorrow from visiting Oliver, please come by around six. We’ll be having dinner and he needs to speak with you and Stella.”

There’s no getting out of this dinner. My father won’t accept any excuse and will show up at the worst time to make a scene if I choose not to attend. “Fine. I’ll have Melia.”

She leans down, kissing her on the cheek. “Be a good girl.”

“Always, Yaya.”

My mother turns, starting to walk away before stopping. “Jessica, do stop by the house sometime this week, I think I have a check for your mother’s wages she never collected.” She walks out, and I’ve never hated the woman more.

Jessica stands there, her eyes filled with pain and rage. My need to fix it is too great to stay away from her, which is what I’ve done the last three days.

I turn to Amelia. “Why don’t you head into the kitchen and grab some cookies and then find Auntie Stella and bring her some.”

Her face brightens. “Okay, Daddy!”