For the rest of dinner, Douglas talked with Ford about networking and the investment opportunities at his new job. Not once did he address Jill, which didn’t come as a surprise to her. Dear ol’ Doug had always preferred to ignore Jill ever since she was a kid. The only interaction they had was if her mother forced them to spend time together or to get a lecture about always being the best. She wanted to believe she’d gotten over his favoritism for Ford, but sitting here in silence made her stomach turn sour.

As Nadine cleared away the last of the dishes, Jill’s mother finished off her glass of wine before speaking. “Jillian, join me in the den for a drink.”

Jill knew better than to argue. She tossed her napkin on the table and followed her mother out of the dining room and into the den.

Her mother closed the door behind them and then moved to the drink cart to pour Jill and herself glasses of whiskey before diving in with questions. “Now, how is the planning going?”

Jill held back a sigh. Not surprising that her mother hadn’t asked a personal question all night and didn’t seem to be starting now either. “It’s fine. I met with Gwen earlier and she left me with the menu options. I’ve starred the ones I think will be best and left the papers with Nadine. She said she’d be sure to give them to you tomorrow while Douglas is at work.”

“Why did you meet with her? Just because it was the menu? I thought Ms. Murphy was taking the lead on everything.”

“She is. Or was. I’m really not sure.” Jill turned to the bookshelf, absently scanning the titles. “Her father passed away, so I met with Gwen instead.”

“Hope that won’t delay any of our planning.”

Jill snapped her head around to glare at her mother. “How could you say that? Her father just died. Show some damn respect.”

Her mother slammed her glass on a side table and pointed at Jill. “You watch your tone with me, Jillian. I raised you better than that.”

“To be like you, you mean? Cold? Hiding every emotion? Even when your husband is fucking every young thing that walks into his office.”

The sting of her mother’s slap registered slightly behind the warmth that now spread across her cheek. She reached up and covered her cheek with her hand, her mouth slightly agape. Several emotions streaked across her mother’s face—anger, sadness, surprise, and maybe even a hint of regret.

“Jillian, I—”

“Let me know what you’d like to try at the tasting. It’s on the fourteenth at two.” Jill set her glass on the table next to her mother’s. “I assume you can make it?” Her mother nodded, seemingly struggling to find words and when she didn’t respond, Jill said, “Goodnight, Mother.”