Chapter 4 - THE STORY BEATRICE HAD BEEN TELLING EVERYONE
By the end of that evening, Serena learned that Beatrice had been living two different lives.
In Serena’s house, she was the underappreciated matriarch who believed everyone should be grateful for her presence.
Outside Serena’s house, she was apparently a near-destitute widow being generously supported by her son while enduring a cold and territorial daughter-in-law.
Aunt Patricia knew one version.
Two cousins knew another.
The neighbors had heard pieces.
People from Beatrice’s church believed Lucas had purchased the Savannah house and allowed Serena to keep her father’s furniture because she was “sentimental.”
That one almost impressed Serena.
“How many people think Lucas owns this property?” Serena asked.
Beatrice sat rigidly at the dining-room table.
Patricia answered.
“Probably everyone she talks to.”
Lucas closed his eyes.
Serena looked at him.
“You never heard this?”
“No.”
Patricia scoffed.
“You absolutely heard pieces.”
Lucas looked irritated.
“When?”
“Your mother said at Easter that Serena insisted on keeping everything in her father’s name.”
Lucas frowned.
“I thought she meant sentimental stuff.”
Patricia stared at him.
“You are either lying or not very bright.”
“Aunt Pat.”
“What?”
“I’m fifty-eight years old.”
“Then stop needing your aunt to explain nouns.”
Serena almost smiled.
Patricia might have been difficult, but she was efficient.
Beatrice stood.
“I have been humiliated enough.”
Patricia said, “Sit down.”
To Serena’s amazement, Beatrice did.
Patricia looked at her sister.
“Did you tell people Lucas bought this house?”
“I said it was his home.”
“No.”
“You said he owned it.”
“People assume things.”
“You encouraged it.”
Beatrice looked away.
Lucas leaned forward.
“Why?”
Beatrice’s voice dropped.
“Because I was proud of you.”
Nobody spoke.
She looked at her son.
“I wanted people to know you had done well.”
Lucas stared.
“So you used Serena’s house to make me look successful?”
“That is not how I would say it.”
“How would you say it?”
Beatrice’s eyes filled.
“You were forty-nine when you married her.”
“Fifty.”
“You had gone through a divorce. Your business had failed.”
Lucas flinched.
Serena had never judged him for that.
Lucas had owned a small logistics consultancy that collapsed during a major client bankruptcy eight years earlier.
By the time they met, he was rebuilding his career as an operations manager for a regional shipping company.
He had always seemed secure about it.
Apparently his mother was not.
Beatrice continued.
“People asked questions.”
“What people?”
“Friends.”
“Who cares?”
“I care.”
Lucas laughed bitterly.
“So you told them I owned Serena’s house.”
“I said you lived in a beautiful home.”
“You said Dad left us the property.”
Serena corrected quietly.
“My father.”
Beatrice looked at her.
“Yes.”
The fact that she did not apologize mattered.
Serena filed it away.
Lucas stood.
“I need air.”
He went outside.
Patricia watched him through the window.
Then looked at Serena.
“You know he knew more than he’s admitting.”
Serena had been thinking the same thing.
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
Patricia lowered her voice.
“But Beatrice has been telling that story a long time.”
“How long?”
“At least eighteen months.”
Serena stared.
Lucas had attended multiple family dinners during that period.
If Beatrice told the story often enough for Patricia to remember specifics, the odds that Lucas never heard it seemed low.
Serena felt something colder than anger.
Disappointment.
Not explosive.
Heavy.
Patricia gathered her purse.
“I’m taking her home with me tonight.”
Beatrice turned.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I am not leaving.”
“Only for the night.”
“This is my—”
She stopped.
Everyone noticed.
Serena waited.
Beatrice’s face reddened.
“My room is here.”
Patricia shook her head.
“No. A room you use is here.”
That distinction landed.
Beatrice looked at Serena with something close to hatred.
“You planned all this.”
“No.”
“You called Patricia.”
“I did not.”
Patricia lifted her phone.
“She called me.”
Serena almost laughed.
Beatrice had summoned a witness expecting support.
Instead, she had exposed the lie.
Patricia stood.
“Pack an overnight bag.”
Beatrice did not move.
Patricia pointed toward the stairs.
“Now.”
Beatrice walked upstairs.
The moment she disappeared, Patricia sat beside Serena.
“I owe you an apology.”
Serena looked surprised.
“For what?”
“I believed her.”
“That’s understandable.”
“No.”
Patricia shook her head.
“I believed her because she told me a story that matched what I already thought about you.”
Serena’s eyebrows rose.
“What did you think?”
“That you were aloof.”
Fair.
“You didn’t come to many family things.”
“I work.”
“So does everyone.”
“That wasn’t the only reason.”
Patricia waited.
Serena considered how honest to be.
Then decided there was no point avoiding it.
“Every time I attended, Beatrice corrected me.”
Patricia frowned.
“Corrected what?”
“My cooking.”
“My clothes.”
“How much I worked.”
“How Lucas and I spent holidays.”
“How often my father’s name came up.”
Patricia looked down.
“She does that.”
“Yes.”
“And we all excuse it.”
“Yes.”
Patricia sighed.
“Because she’s Beatrice.”
“That explanation has carried a lot of weight.”
Patricia nodded.
“Too much.”
When Beatrice came downstairs with a suitcase, she refused to look at Serena.
Patricia took her arm.
“We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Beatrice snapped, “I have nothing to say.”
Patricia smiled without humor.
“That has never stopped you before.”
The front door closed behind them.
The house became quiet.
Lucas returned ten minutes later.
He looked at the empty foyer.
“She left?”
“With Patricia.”
“For how long?”
“Tonight.”
He nodded.
Then Serena asked:
“How long did you know?”
His expression changed.
“Know what?”
“That she was telling people you owned this house.”
“I told you, I didn’t.”
“That isn’t believable anymore.”
“Serena.”
“How long?”
Lucas walked into the kitchen.
She followed.
He opened the refrigerator.
She closed it.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Use food to end the conversation.”
He stared.
“That is not what I’m doing.”
“You do it constantly.”
He looked almost amused.
“Now we’re analyzing how I open refrigerators?”
“No.”
Serena leaned against the island.
“I’m analyzing how you avoid answering questions.”
He sighed.
“I knew she exaggerated.”
“How?”
“She called it my place.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“She said things.”
“What things?”
Lucas stared at the marble countertop.
Serena waited.
Finally:
“She told some people your father left the house to us.”
Serena’s stomach dropped.
“When did you hear that?”
“Last year.”
“At what?”
“Christmas.”
The carriage-house conversation.
Of course.
“Did you correct her?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“It didn’t seem worth creating a scene.”
Serena laughed.
Not loudly.
Lucas’s face tightened.
“What?”
“That sentence.”
“What about it?”
“You have built our entire marriage around it.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No?”
She counted on her fingers.
“Your mother rearranges my kitchen. Not worth a scene.”
“She moves my father’s photos. Not worth a scene.”
“She invites people without asking. Not worth a scene.”
“She tells relatives you own my house. Not worth a scene.”
“She turns off the air while I work. Not worth a scene.”
Lucas looked away.
Serena continued.
“Do you know what the common factor is?”
“You think I’m weak.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“You think the cost of her discomfort should always be paid by me.”
That stopped him.
“I never thought that.”
“You didn’t have to think it.”
She tapped her chest.
“I lived it.”
Lucas sat down.
For the first time, he looked genuinely shaken.
“I didn’t realize.”
Serena believed him.
That did not make it better.
Maybe it made it worse.
“How could you not?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“She’s always been difficult.”
“That is an excuse.”
“No.”
He looked at Serena.
“It’s context.”
“I’m listening.”
Lucas took a long breath.
“My father died when I was twenty-three.”
Serena knew.
“Mom fell apart.”
“I know.”
“For years, everything became about keeping her steady.”
Serena sat across from him.
“If she was upset, my brother and I fixed it.”
“If she was angry, we apologized.”
“If she stopped speaking to us, we called.”
“If she said she was leaving, someone chased her.”
Serena thought about the previous morning.
I’m leaving.
The performance.
The expected pursuit.
“She trained you.”
Lucas flinched.
“That sounds manipulative.”
“Was it?”
He looked away.
“I don’t know.”
Serena softened slightly.
Understanding did not erase responsibility.
But it could explain how responsibility got avoided.
Lucas continued.
“When we married, you were… stable.”
Serena almost smiled.
“What a romantic word.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No.”
“You didn’t need managing.”
That word bothered her.
“Managing?”
“I mean you handled things.”
He rushed onward.
“You didn’t blow up. You didn’t threaten to leave. You didn’t cry every time something didn’t go your way.”
“So you chose the person less likely to punish you.”
Lucas stopped.
Serena had not planned to say it.
The sentence simply arrived.
He stared at her.
“Oh.”
“Yes.”
His face changed.
“I’m sorry.”
She believed that too.
Still not enough.
“I need more than sorry.”
“What?”
“Change.”
“How?”
Serena had been thinking about that since the deed conversation.
“I want marriage counseling.”
Lucas looked surprised.
“Okay.”
“I want your mother moved out.”
His jaw tightened.
“Serena—”
“Then we have our answer.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It is completely fair.”
“You’re making me choose.”
“No.”
Serena stood.
“I am telling you the conditions under which I am willing to continue living in this marriage.”
“That sounds like a choice.”
“It is.”
“Between you and my mother.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“Between being my husband and continuing to be your mother’s buffer.”
Lucas stared at her for a long time.
Then whispered:
“What if she never forgives me?”
Serena’s heart hurt.
Because beneath sixty years of adulthood, there was still a son afraid his mother would stop loving him.
“I don’t know.”
His eyes lifted.
“That’s it?”
“I won’t lie to make this easier.”
He looked toward the stairs.
“What happens if I ask her to leave?”
“She gets angry.”
“And then?”
“She finds a place.”
“And if she refuses?”
“Then we follow the legal process.”
He laughed bitterly.
“You really have changed.”
Serena nodded.
“Yes.”
She walked upstairs.
At the top landing, Lucas called after her.
“Did you ever consider putting my name on the house?”
She stopped.
Turned.
“Yes.”
His face changed.
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Serena looked down at him.
“Your mother moved in.”
The answer landed exactly as it should.
The next morning, Beatrice returned.
She was not alone.
She brought Patricia.
And a realtor.
Serena looked at the woman standing on her porch holding property brochures.
“What’s this?”
Beatrice lifted her chin.
“If you insist I leave, then apparently I need a house.”
Serena nodded.
“Good.”
Beatrice looked disappointed by the lack of resistance.
The realtor smiled nervously.
“I have several townhomes in the area.”
Serena stepped aside.
“Come in.”
May you like
For the first time in two years, Beatrice was not discussing how to change Serena’s home.
She was looking for one of her own.
