He slowly lifted his face toward me, his eyes dimmed by a deep humiliation that never should have belonged to him. His work shirt was stained, his hands were shaking violently, and he looked afraid.
“My dear girl, what on earth are you doing back home already?”
That simple question turned my blood cold in a way the spilled stew never could have.
“What do you mean, what am I doing here? This is my house, Dad. Why in the world are you cleaning the floor on your knees while these people watch you?”
My father kept his eyes lowered to the floor, his voice barely more than a whisper.
“I accidentally dropped the basket, and I did not mean to cause any trouble for anyone in the house.”
I turned toward my mother-in-law, my voice icy and controlled even though fury was burning through me.
“And did it not occur to either of you to hand him a mop or perhaps offer to help? Were you not even slightly ashamed to watch an elderly man scrubbing my floor like a servant?”
Heather crossed her arms over her chest with a look of stubborn defiance.
“Oh, Chloe, please do not start with the melodrama. If the man spilled his mess, he should be the one to clean it up. Besides, nobody actually forced him to show up here with his cheap farm gifts.”
“Heather,” I said, my voice sinking into a low and dangerous calm, “I am the one who pays every single bill for this house. And nobody in this home will ever treat my father like that again.”
Susan immediately straightened herself, smoothing her blouse and arranging that false, injured expression she always wore when she wanted to make herself the victim.
“You are being completely dramatic. Your father just showed up out of the blue, looking completely flustered and confused. He said he needed to speak with Kyle immediately. Then he dropped his things and tried to clean it up by himself, so we really did not do anything wrong.”
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