Chapter 5 - The Pre-Wedding War
By Friday afternoon, the Mercer household was in a state of absolute siege.
My father, Richard, had returned from his business trip in Chicago to find his wife facing a potential investigation for elder financial abuse, his eldest daughter facing grand larceny charges, and the local country club buzzing with rumors about a stolen engagement ring.
I was sitting in my small apartment, eating a bowl of soup, when the front door buzzer rang.
I didn't open it. I checked the security camera on my phone. My father was standing on the landing, his face red, his expensive leather jacket damp from the light mist outside. He looked like a man who had been told his house was on fire but didn't know which room to throw water on first.
“Hannah!” he shouted through the wood. “Open the door! We need to settle this right now! This is ridiculous! Your sister is in tears, and your mother is having a nervous breakdown!”
I unlocked the deadbolt but kept the heavy security chain in place. I opened the door three inches.
“What do you want, Dad?” I asked, my voice flat.
He looked at me through the gap, his eyes wild. “What do I want? I want you to drop these absurd charges against Vanessa! The jeweler was a crook, yes, but Vanessa didn't know that! She thought she was just selling a family heirloom to cover her expenses. I will write you a check for twelve thousand dollars right now, on the spot, if you call the police and tell them it was all a big misunderstanding!”
“Twelve thousand?” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound that made him flinch. “The ring was worth fifty-eight thousand, Dad. And it wasn't family property. It was mine. She stole it from my house while I was undergoing emergency surgery. She used the emergency key you gave her 'just in case I ever needed help.'”
“She’s your sister!” he roared, his fist hitting the doorframe. “You’re going to put her in jail over a piece of carbon? Over a shiny stone? She’s getting married in three weeks, Hannah! Do you know what this is doing to our reputation? The Crofts are an old, established family. If they find out Vanessa is facing felony charges, they will call off the wedding!”
“Maybe they should,” I said quietly. “Maybe they deserve to know what kind of family they’re marrying into.”
“You jealous, petty little creature,” my father sneered, his voice dropping into a low, venomous register I had heard him use on waiters and business rivals, but never on me. “You’ve always hated Vanessa because she’s beautiful, because she’s successful, because she’s the daughter I’ve always wanted. You’re just a bitter, lonely girl who has to work forty hours a week in a sterile clinic because you don't have the grace or the charm to do anything else with your life.”
The words stung, but they didn't break me. Not anymore.
I looked at him—at his expensive watch, his perfect teeth, and the absolute certainty in his eyes that he was the king of his small, superficial world.
“You’re right, Dad,” I said, my voice incredibly calm. “I do work forty hours a week. And I earned every single cent I have. But before you spend another dollar on Vanessa’s perfect wedding, you might want to ask Mom where she was in December of 1997.”
My father’s face went completely blank. “What are you talking about?”
“Ask her about Redwood Memorial Hospital,” I said. “Ask her about the Eureka clinic. And then, if you still want to call me a parasite, you can come back and we’ll talk about who really belongs in this family.”
May you like
I closed the door and slid the deadbolt into place.
Through the wood, I heard nothing but the sound of his heavy, confused breathing, followed by the slow, hesitant sound of his footsteps descending the stairs.
