My Mother's Daughter

Chapter 21

  The sun's brilliant rays brightened her bedroom, and painted it liquid gold. Rebecca opened her eyes inch by inch, groaned, shuffled off the bed, and headed for the bathroom. The clock in the shape of an owl, which resided on the chest-of-drawers, ticked the hour of ten-thirty. She had awoken late.

The night's activities were exhausting, and now she was hungry. Rebecca took a bath, dressed, and headed to the kitchen. Strangely, no one complimented, smiled, or bowed respectfully. All will be revealed in due time, she guessed. She was too hungry to care, and she ate the bowl of cereal in silence. Mrs. Howard was outdoors directing the yard boy on how to handle and pick the delicate flowers.

Rebecca cheerily said her mornings and waved, both replicating her pleasantries. Father had already left for work, and with nothing in mind she strolled to the dining room. Maybe she could play a little and compose a few notes, she thought.

Half way into the room Rebecca paused, her mouth parting slightly in wonder. In the spot her grand piano once occupied, now stood a wooden sculpture of a woman doing something, Rebecca did not try to figure out what.

"Don't you just love it? It was made a decade ago." Stated Elizabeth who am, as she came into the room beaming. She wore a pale French blue and white vintage broadcloth striped dress that suited her thin frame.

"Where's my piano?" Rebecca attempted to ask the question as breezily as possible, but anger slightly shook her voice.

"That thing you used to doodle on? Oh, I got rid of it, dear. Feel free to thank me anytime." Her smile broadened.

"Thank you?" Rebecca bit her bottom lip to control the anger, and paused to calm herself.

"Whom did you give it to?"

"To charity of course! And we both know how much you love to give to charity."

"Have I ever given away anything that belongs to you, Elizabeth?"

"You gave away my money."

"That's my father's money. I don't recall you ever bringing a cheque into this house, or going to work."

"True, yet as the wife I own everything in this house, and if I say that damn piano has to go then it shall, like it already has." Elizabeth scorched her stepdaughter with her evil eyes. There was no point in arguing further, and Rebecca stomped out of the room.

"Enjoy your sculpture, you devil."

"Come on, where is your usual sense of humour?" Elizabeth chimed, but Rebecca was already out the door. Laughing and shaking her head in glee, Elizabeth walked to the sculpture and touched it gently. The victory was just as sweet and satisfying as battenburg cakes. She should have removed the damn piano sooner. Suddenly, the stress melted away like the ice of a snow cone on a hot summer's day.

Sighing, she proceeded to the door. It seemed the sun was shining in favour of her that morning. She hummed a tune from a beloved opera, while her fingers snapped and heels clicked in union.

Rebecca was on edge for the rest of the morning. It seemed her stepmother was not ready to surrender the war, even though she was losing the battle. However, it was not the end of her turmoil. When Rebecca had returned to her room, she found to her utter horror that the clothes in her closet had been upgraded, or rather downgraded, and all her regular attire were gone. The outfits now hanging in the closet were not even suitable for her grandmother to wear.

The style of the dresses, skirts and blouses were of a much older fashion than the ones she wore for her mother. Rebecca's face cringed in disgust. Huffing, she left her bedroom, and since lunch was served she had hers on the patio. She needed the refreshing air to soothe her anger.