Robert rubbed his forehead.
“Rachel, I promised Sophie we’d bake.”
“Darling, I’ve already confirmed our attendance.”
“But tomorrow’s the fair,” Sophie said.
“Sophie, darling, your father has responsibilities. You can’t expect him to play with cookie dough all evening.”
“It’s not playing.”
“Then call it whatever you like.”
Robert looked miserable.
“We’ll bake them next year, sweetheart.”
“The fair is tomorrow, Dad.”
Rachel shrugged.
“Then buy some.”
I put down my grocery bag.
“Sophie, how about baking at Grandma’s?”
“Really?”
“Unless you’ve forgotten how to make bats.”
“I haven’t!”
That evening, Sophie and I made all seventy cookies.
“Grandma, that ghost looks like a potato.”
“An expensive potato.”
We finished just before bedtime.
“Think Mom would’ve liked them?”
“She would’ve eaten the ugliest one first.”
“Why?”
“So nobody else had to.”
Sophie chose a crooked pumpkin and set it aside.
“Then this one’s for her.”
The next morning, we arranged our cookies at the school fair.
A boy named Ben approached with a small transparent container.
“Hey, Sophie. Want to trade?”
“What is it?”
“An ant farm.”
“With real ants?”
“Obviously.”
“What do you want?”
“Some cookies.”
“Want to trade?”
“How many?”
“Four.”
“Three.”
“Deal.”
Sophie placed the container beneath the table.
I went to put our empty boxes in the car.
When I returned, Sophie was standing beside the table, red-faced.
Rachel was arranging fancy-looking desserts on trays.
Our cookies were in the trash.
“What did you do, Rachel?”
She raised an eyebrow.
“God, did you seriously think I was going to let you put that junk out? They even look cheap!”
“Rachel, Sophie baked these cookies with her mom every single year. Why would you do this?”
“Her mom’s gone, so I make the decisions now. I bought expensive treats. You should be thanking me.”
“Those cookies weren’t yours to throw away.”
“Oh, please. I spent three hundred and fifty dollars making this table presentable.”
“Three hundred and fifty?”
“Quality costs money, Margaret.”
I was about to tell her exactly what I thought of her quality.
But Sophie squeezed my hand.
“Grandma, it’s okay. I have an idea.”
She approached Rachel.
“Rachel, you’re right. Thank you.”
“Finally, some manners.”
“Could you please look under your table? I think you forgot something.”
Rachel rolled her eyes and lifted the tablecloth.
A second later, she screamed.
“OH GOD! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!”
I turned toward Sophie.
“Sophie, sweetheart… what did you do?”
Rachel had reached into the open feeding compartment of Ben’s ant farm.
Now dozens of ants were crawling over her fingers.
“GET THEM OFF! GET THEM OFF ME!”
She jumped backward, knocked over a chair, and nearly sent a dessert tray flying.
“OH MY GOD! I’M GOING TO DIE!”
“Rachel, they’re ants!” I said.
“THEY’RE EVERYWHERE!”
“Stop waving your arms!”
“DO SOMETHING!”
Sophie started laughing.
Unfortunately, that was when Robert arrived.
“Rachel? What’s happening?”
She practically threw herself at him.
“Robert! Your daughter tried to kill me!”
“What?”
“She put insects under my table!”
“They’re just ants,” Sophie said.
“She made me touch them!”
Robert turned toward his daughter.
“Sophie! What were you thinking?”
“But Dad…”
“Answer me!”
“Rachel threw away our cookies!”
“That’s not an excuse!”
“They’re just ants.”
I stepped between them.
“Robert, listen. Rachel threw seventy cookies into the trash.”
“I was trying to make everything beautiful!” Rachel sobbed.
“Those were made from your wife’s recipe,” I told him.
Rachel began crying harder.
Someone handed her a paper bag.
She sat down and started breathing into it.
“Mom,” Robert said, “Rachel has exquisite taste. She only wants what’s best for this family.”
“Then why did she call our cookies junk?”
Rachel sobbed into her bag.
“Apparently, trying to be a good stepmother is a crime now.”
“Nobody said that,” I replied.
Robert pointed at Sophie.
“You’ve been disrespectful for weeks.”
“You embarrassed Rachel in front of everyone!”
“She embarrassed me first!”
“Sophie, enough!”
I took my granddaughter’s hand.
“Robert, what Sophie did was wrong. But you need to hear what happened before that.”
“I’ve heard enough.”
“Apparently not.”
He ignored me.
“One more stunt like this, Sophie, and you’re going to boarding school.”
Sophie went silent.
Rachel leaned against him, still clutching her bag.
“Come on, sweetheart. You’re coming home with me.”
Robert took Rachel home.
Before leaving, I retrieved Ben’s ant farm.
That’s when I noticed several empty dessert boxes beneath the table.
They had a supermarket logo.
One still had its price sticker.
$24.99.
I photographed it and picked up the discarded receipt.
Rachel had claimed those desserts cost $350.
That evening, Sophie sat at my kitchen table with the crooked pumpkin we’d saved for her mother.
$24.99.
“Grandma?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Do you think Dad really wants to send me away?”
“I think your father said something very foolish.”
“But he said it.”
“I know.”
“Would you visit me?”
I pulled out the chair beside her.
“Sophie, nobody is sending you anywhere without a very serious conversation with me.”
“What if Dad listens to Rachel?”
“Then he’ll have to listen to me, too.”
“He’s not very good at that lately.”
“No,” I admitted. “He isn’t.”
She pushed the pumpkin toward me.
“You can have half.”
I broke it carefully.
That was when I decided talking politely wasn’t enough anymore.
The next morning, I called Robert.
“Mom, if this is about yesterday…”
“It’s about Rachel’s desserts.”
“Seriously?”
“She said they cost $350.”
“So?”
“I found the packaging. They cost $24.99.”
“Maybe she bought other things.”
“She didn’t mention anything else.”
“Mom, Rachel comes from money. She doesn’t need mine.”
“Have you met her parents?”
“They live overseas.”
“Both of them?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Why are you interrogating me?”
“Because they didn’t attend your wedding.”
“They couldn’t travel.”
“Robert..”
“Stop looking for reasons to dislike my wife.”
He hung up.
I remembered a woman named Vanessa from their wedding.
Rachel had introduced her as an old friend.
I’d kept her number among the wedding contacts.
I called.
“Vanessa? It’s Margaret, Robert’s mother-in-law.”
“Oh! How lovely!”
“Would you come for tea? I’d like some advice about getting along with Rachel.”
“Darling, how much time do you have?”
She arrived the following afternoon wearing enormous sunglasses and complaining about traffic.
“Margaret, your neighborhood is impossible!”
“Cherry pie?”
“Homemade?”
“Then I forgive the traffic.”
I poured tea and offered a small glass of my homemade cherry liqueur.
“Good heavens. You made this?”
“My husband taught me.”
“Can I have the recipe?”
“Certainly.”
“Robert says Rachel’s parents are very wealthy.”
Vanessa nearly choked on her pie.
“Rich parents? Rachel told you that?”
“Isn’t it true?”
“Margaret, her father fixed cars. Her mother sold clothes in a little shop.”
“Perhaps they inherited money?”
“From whom? The Queen?”
I put down my fork.
“Robert believes they live overseas.”
“Rich parents?”
“They moved to another state three years ago.”
“Why would Rachel lie?”
“Because Rachel thinks being middle-class is a medical condition.”
Vanessa laughed, then lowered her voice.
“She always wanted expensive things. Designer bags, luxury vacations, the works.”
“Could she afford them?”
“Not usually.”
“What about her business?”
“Bankrupt. Left her with debts.”
“Does Robert know?”
“I doubt it.”
She hesitated.
“Actually, she asked me for money recently.”
“Did you lend it?”
“Absolutely not.”
“How did she take that?”
“Badly. But she said she wouldn’t need loans much longer.”
Vanessa set down her glass.
“She said Robert just needed a little push.”
“A push toward what?”
“Putting the house in her name.”
I looked at her.
“She said that?”
“Her exact words were, ‘Once the house is in my name, everything will be perfect.'”
Robert had bought that house with my daughter.
Sophie had grown up there.
“Vanessa, will you tell Robert?”
“Oh, no. I’m not getting involved.”
“He needs to know.”
“Then tell him.”
“He won’t believe me.”
“That’s unfortunate, darling.”
I needed him to hear Rachel himself.
That evening, Sophie found me making a grocery list.
“Grandma, why are you buying so much chicken?”
“I’m inviting your father and Rachel for Sunday dinner.”
“To make peace.”
“Something like that.”
“Do you have a plan?”
“I do.”
“Does it involve another ant farm?”
“No, sweetheart. This time, we’re going after something Rachel loves even more than her hair.”
“Money.”
On Sunday, Rachel arrived in a white designer outfit carrying an enormous handbag.
“Margaret, do you have imported sparkling water?”
“Tap water, filtered water, or cherry liqueur.”
“I only drink champagne.”
“Then filtered water it is.”
She sniffed.
“Does everything have to smell so… homemade?”
“Only the food I cook myself.”
Sophie covered her mouth.
We sat down to roast chicken and potatoes.
“Robert, didn’t we agree to eat healthier?”
“It’s chicken.”
“It’s the preparation.”
“Would you prefer it raw?” I asked.
Sophie coughed into her napkin.
“Robert, I’ve been thinking about Sophie’s future.”
He put down his glass.
“Mom, please don’t start about boarding school.”
“Actually, it’s about the house.”
Rachel looked interested.
“What about it?”
“After my daughter’s death, we made sure the house would belong to Sophie.”
Robert looked up sharply.
“Margaret, what…”
“Excuse me?” Rachel interrupted.
I continued.
“Everything has been arranged. Sophie is the sole beneficiary.”
Rachel stopped eating.
“When did this happen?”
“After my daughter passed.”
“Who signed the papers?”
“Excuse me?”
“Because I’m Robert’s wife!”
“Of course you are.”
“Then why wasn’t I consulted?”
Robert tried again.
“Rachel, wait…”
“Sophie is the sole beneficiary.”
“No, Robert! This affects our future!”
I folded my napkin.
“How does Sophie owning her childhood home threaten your future?”
“It doesn’t! I’m thinking about the family.”
Sophie spoke quietly.
“Rachel, if you love our family, why do you want me to leave?”
Rachel turned toward Sophie.
“Don’t start again.”
“She showed me boarding schools,” Sophie told Robert.
“Three of them. She said I’d learn discipline.”
Robert faced Rachel.
“This affects our future!”
“You discussed this without me?”
“You threatened to send her away yourself!”
“At the fair. When did you show her?”
“Before Halloween,” Sophie said.
“You told her she was going away?” Robert asked.
“You told me I was ruining your marriage,” Sophie said.
“She showed me boarding schools.”
“Let her speak,” I said.
“Rachel, why?”
“Because she needs manners!”
“Her teachers disagree,” I said.
Rachel reached for her water.
“I don’t feel well. I need a paper bag.”
“You told her she was going away?”
Sophie whispered, “Should I get the ants?”
I shook my head.
“See?” Rachel snapped. “She’s impossible!”
“Answer me,” Robert said.
“I’m tired of this house! Your first wife, those stupid traditions!”
I took Sophie’s hand.
“Those traditions matter to my daughter,” Robert said.
“Everything revolves around her!”
“She’s my child.”
“And I’m your wife!”
Rachel slammed her napkin down.
“I didn’t marry you to spend my life raising someone else’s child!”
“I’m tired of this house!”
Robert put down his fork.
“Someone else’s child?”
“You know what I mean!”
“Explain it.”
“She’s old enough to live elsewhere!”
“She’s my daughter.”
“And what about everything I’ve sacrificed?”
“Like what?”
“My freedom! My lifestyle! I renovated that entire house!”
“You wanted to.”
“You promised me comfort! Not a house you’re giving to Sophie!”
“Is that what matters to you?”
“Do you expect me to leave this marriage with nothing?”
“Who’s talking about leaving?”
“I deserve security!”
“And Sophie doesn’t?”
“She has you!”
“Not when you keep taking him away,” Sophie said.
“You made him miss our baking night.”
“And the cookies were for her mother,” I said.
“She already lost her mother,” I said.
“Don’t be dramatic.”
Robert spoke quietly.
“I expected you to love us.”
Rachel said nothing.
I decided to speak.
“Rachel, there’s no transfer.”
“No new deed or will. Robert still owns the house. I wanted to see how you would react.”
“You lied!”
“Yes. And you really showed us the truth.”
Rachel pointed at me.
“She’s been trying to turn you against me!”
“You just told me my daughter should leave her home,” Robert said.
“You manipulative old woman!”
Robert stood.
“Did you marry me for my money?”
“How dare you!”
“Answer me.”
“After everything I’ve done for you?”
“I think you should stay elsewhere for now.”
“You’re choosing them over me?”
“I’m choosing my daughter. I should’ve done it sooner.”
Rachel grabbed her handbag.
“You’ll regret this!”
At the door, she turned toward me.
“You destroyed my marriage!”
“No, Rachel. You did.”
Robert sat beside Sophie.
“I’m sorry I threatened boarding school.”
“Did you mean it?”
“No.”
“You always do.”
“That changes now.”
“You didn’t ask about our cookies.”
“I should’ve. I broke my promise.”
“You owe her a baking lesson,” I said.
“I don’t want to leave.”
“You won’t. I promise.”
“Will you bake with me?”
“Absolutely.”
“Even if there’s a party?”
“Even then.”
“Mom let me decorate the bats. You ate them all.”
Robert smiled.
“She made extra for me.”
“I promise.”
“Then we’ll make extra next time.”
“Eighty. Grandma eats a lot.”
“Excuse me!”
I couldn’t bring her mother back, but Sophie had her dad again.
