That dinner couldn’t really be called pleasant—but it wasn’t unpleasant either. Juliet always spoke gently, calmly. There were no arguments, no drama.
And yet, even as the meal ended, Grace couldn’t bring herself to ask Juliet the question that lingered in her mind: Why don’t you ever try to see Evelyn? She’s your daughter too. In all these years, did you never want to meet her?
Back in the car, Grace sat staring blankly out the window. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind—not sharp like daggers, but like water seeping into soft soil, slow and deep, until it reached somewhere hard to touch.
Juliet had said quietly over dinner, “Men who are successful in business... they’re usually very good at pretending.”
It was clear who she meant.
Grace had shot back instantly, “You didn’t even c
