Just Like Her

Chapter 51

Tom

I slid my phone into my pocket as I lowered myself into the chair across from my mother, her entire expression set in a dour scowl and in complete contrast to the cheerful pastels and gold trimming that decorated the tea room.

Forty minutes, had read Cynthia's last text. 4-0 minutes till meeting w/ the board.

I took a deep, steadying breath as I plastered a toothy grin & nodded in greeting. 

Forty minutes, I reminded myself again. Forty minutes to tell my mother the news, soothe any hurt feelings, rally her support, and hopefully make it back to my office alive and on time or risk facing my sister's wrath.

"Good afternoon, Mother. I—"

"I never expected this from you, Thomas. Out of the three of you, I always pegged you as the one least likely to pull something like this."

She shook her head in apparent disgusting, sending her short blonde tresses flowing in rippling waves. Her eyes shifted between me and the tray-ladened waiters buzzing around us.

"Mum, please..." I whispered, leaning forward slightly.

She pouted her lower lip and shrugged one shoulder. "This is why you brought me here, isn't it?"

"I asked you to tea to—"

"To tell me of your not-so-secret engagement to that girl—" She cut in, her cool mask beginning to slip and unveil an anger roiling near to the surface.

My own temper flared at her tone. "Her name is—"

"Who you've been seeing for all of how many months?"

I hesitated before answering. "Three..."

"And you brought me here to this extravagant tea parlor," she continued on in a near hiss, her eyes flicking pointedly to the ostentatious golden cherubs that flanked the crown molding, furniture, and nearly every other surface of the room. "So that I would not make a scene about it when you finally managed to work up the courage to tell me. Isn't that right?"

Silently, I held her gaze until I could bear the searing of her icy glare no longer and dropped my own to the floral centerpiece sitting on the table between.

My mother nodded at my confirmation. "You manipulated all of this, Thomas. So now I am here playing my part."

I watched as she reached for her still steaming cup of tea and took a long, steadying sip. Sighing, I sat back in my chair.

"Are you really so surprised?" I asked after a minute. "Matilda was the one who always obeyed protocols, even when we were little. It was Cynthia and me who were always the ones to cause a ruckus."

"But you were always the sentimental one. I would have thought you would have at least asked for my ring, if not my blessing."

I closed my eyes briefly as the sting of her words lingered in my chest. I had expected her outrage for my breach of likely half a dozen royal protocols. I had anticipated it and, in fact, tailored my apologies to it accordingly. But what I hadn't anticipated for was the hurt clearly evident in her voice and the cold rage glistening behind her eyes.

At that moment, I wished Cynthia or even Matilda were there for they both knew how to manage our mother better than I ever did. They knew what soothing words to utter and what promises to make and what excuses to steadfastly avoid. I, however, did not. Being the youngest and the only boy, I enjoyed the luxury of near-automatic forgiveness from my mother. Growing up, my father had admittedly been much more demanding of me as his son, but with time—and in comparing my indiscretions to Charlie's—he stopped interfering with my life and preferred just to observe from the sidelines.