The Fable of Us

Mom’s and Charlotte’s eyes lifted to the ceiling at the same time in the exact same way. Creepy phenomenon number two on this trip home—middle sister was becoming a clone of our mother.

“Hey, Ford.” My eyes fell to the ground for a moment under the pressure of his unwavering stare. I made them realign with his. I wouldn’t let him make me feel small and inconsequential again. “Congratulations. You know, since I haven’t gotten a chance to tell you yet. It’s really great you and Charlotte are getting married.”

Tension pressed into the room. Everyone knew what had happened between Ford and two Abbott sisters, and no one wanted to bring it up and call bullshit bullshit. We Abbotts preferred making nice and turning the blind eye—if only when it came to others of our “kind,” because the opposite was the way Boone had been treated.

Ford nodded a few times, not seeming to blink as he watched me. “How’s California treating you?”

I raised a shoulder. I didn’t want them to know how great it was or how much I loved my life out there for fear of them moving and ruining the good thing I had going. “Good. How’s South Carolina treating you?”

Ford’s smile went higher on one side. High enough that his dimple set into his cheek. “Good,” he answered, mirroring my nonchalant tone. “How’s that little business of yours coming along? Throw in the towel yet? Opening a business is always more work than people figure, and a good half of them fail in the end anyway.”

A hand slid up to my hip. What I’d ever seen in the elitist, conceited Ford McBride was lost to me now, but there must have been something redeeming in him at one time. Something more redeeming than his good looks and healthy trust fund.

“Not too bad.” Too much coolness in my voice. Back off, Clara. Don’t let them get to you on your first night. You’re a wall. The Great Wall of Clara. They can’t move you, no matter what kind of blows they hit you with.

“If you ever need any consulting or expertise when it comes to running a business, I’d be happy to—”

“I’m sure Clara Belle can manage just fine on her own,” Charlotte cut in, marching toward Ford like he were being fondled by a house of horny sorority sisters.

“Yes, Clara can and has managed just fine on her own. But thanks.”

I didn’t know why I still tried. Clearly no one in my family would ever respect my wish to be called Clara instead of Clara Belle. Yes, that might have been the name on my birth certificate, but by my estimation, it was one name too many. Clara was my name in California, though I doubted it would ever be so here. Only one person down here had ever called me Clara.

“The first year is the hardest, you know, Clara Belle, when businesses either make or break themselves,” Ford powered on, ignoring his fiancée’s attempts to distract him from the topic or, more accurately, me.

Charlotte had wound up with the man, but for some reason, I got the feeling she felt like we were still fighting for him. I hadn’t even fought for him when I first found out about them, so it was a one-sided match on her part.

“This is my third year, and believe me, I’m doing just fine. Thank you again though.” I felt my jaw tightening, so I worked it as loose as I could get it. The business I’d opened back in California had been the object of ridicule, scrutiny, and contempt in my family and those twined to it. To say their attitude wore thin on my patience would have been a tender way of putting it.

“You never were one for asking for help, Clara Belle.” Ford gave me a look, something meaningful in his eyes he was waiting for me to pick up on.

I pretended to ignore it while Charlotte attempted to wrestle his attention away from me with her roving hands and her body pressed against him.

“Maybe that’s because asking for help wouldn’t have done any good. Maybe it’s because there’s only helping yourself in this family—in this world,” I corrected when I heard my mom inhale, like I’d just slapped her across the cheek. I wasn’t saying anything that was intended maliciously, but I was voicing what we all knew to be the truth.

Ford twisted a quarter turn, freeing himself some from Charlotte’s hold. “God, you look great. Different, but great. You’ve come into your own, Clara Belle. Good for you.”

Charlotte’s hand stopped rubbing his shoulder.

I crossed my arms and moved a few steps to the side so I wasn’t directly in front of him. I wasn’t sure if he was intentionally fucking with me to get a response out of me or if he was being as genuine as Ford McBride was capable, but he was making me uncomfortable. Especially given our history. Especially given he was marrying my sister in five days.

It was Avalee who cleared the air, and just in time from the look on Charlotte’s face. I couldn’t tell who she wanted to water-board first: Ford or me.

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