Chapter 2 - The Setup
Friday passed in a blur of passive-aggressive tension. Virginia hovered around the kitchen while I made breakfast, making subtle adjustments to the toaster settings and sighing loudly whenever I poured coffee into my favorite ceramic mug instead of the matching glass set she preferred.
By Saturday morning, the energy in the apartment had shifted into something electric and malicious.
Virginia spent an hour in the bathroom curling her hair, emerging in a floral blouse that looked like it belonged at a high-society garden party rather than a casual dinner in a two-bedroom Sacramento apartment. Walter was dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt. Even Justin seemed caught up in the performance, shaving twice and pacing the living room while checking his watch every five minutes.
"Brenda's traffic should be clearing up soon," Virginia announced brightly, settling onto the sofa with a cup of tea. She looked at me, her eyes sharp behind her designer frames. "Chloe, sweetie, what are we making for dinner tonight? Brenda loves a good roast, but I told her you usually prefer... lighter things."
The emphasis on lighter things practically dripped with condescension. It was code for rabbit food—the endless salads and grain bowls she loved to mock behind my back.
"I'm making braised short ribs with root vegetables and polenta," I said evenly, wiping my hands on a kitchen towel.
Virginia’s eyebrows arched. A flicker of genuine surprise crossed her face, quickly masked by a tight, knowing smile. "Oh. Short ribs? Are you sure you can manage that? They take hours to get right, and nobody wants tough meat."
"I've made them a dozen times, Virginia. They'll be fine."
"Well," she said smoothly, patting her lap. "We'll see."
At precisely five o'clock, the buzzer at the front entrance rang. Justin hurried to the intercom, buzzing his aunt up with a welcoming smile that made my stomach churn. Five minutes later, the front door swung open, and Brenda marched into our hallway like a four-star general taking command of an occupied territory.
Brenda was taller than Virginia, louder, and possessed an even sharper tongue. Within thirty seconds of crossing the threshold, she had inspected the living room rug, commented on the lack of crown molding, and hugged Justin with an exaggerated display of maternal adoration.
Then, her eyes landed on me standing by the kitchen archway.
May you like
"So," Brenda said, stepping forward with a glittering, predatory smile. "This is the little apartment you two managed to scrape together. Let's see how you feed my nephew, shall we?"
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