Snapshots of a life, lived

Meet The Mother

TRIGGER WARNING: Referenced eating disorders, body shaming, verbal abuse

Marjorie would never admit she was nervous, but Reece knew his wife well enough to recognize the signs. She was bouncing slightly in her chair, jumping whenever the bell over the restaurant door rang, craning her neck to look around.

"You know she can't hurt you," Reece said, taking Marjorie's hand under the table. "Right?"

She stopped looking to spare him a smile. "Of course I do. I'm not worried about this at all."

She was such a bad liar.

The bell rang again; Marjorie's head snapped around, and her eyes went wide. She immediately stood, smoothing down her shirt one more time.

"Showtime," Reece whispered, standing to join his wife and get his first look at his mother-in-law.

He already didn't have a high opinion of the woman, but he immediately did not like Constance Van Gould. She was tall, brown-haired woman with a severe expression, her head tilted back just slightly so she could look down on everyone despite being shorter than most of them. Clothes were all designer brand, and the fur around her shoulders was probably fake and definitely over the top.

Reece, very much against his will, had been mingling in high society since he was young. And he had learned quickly how to distinguish the actual rich people from pretenders. Roger, as much as he was a greedy bastard, never felt the need to flaunt his money. His clothes were expensive but simple, and he never went over the top trying to present himself because he had nothing to prove. Society knew Roger Knight had more money than he knew what to do with. His last name was a status symbol. Aside from his cars and the house, he didn't really spend a lot.

Constance looked like the kind of woman who would terrorize a shop and very loudly say, "Do you know who my husband is," while waving around her black credit card. The type who would brag about how much money her husband had at every single social event she attended, who would remind simple peons of her last name in case they had forgotten.

Money talks, wealth whispers was a phrase Reece heard a lot when he was young. Constance was the walking embodiment of that.

"Marjorie." Her voice was absolutely dripping with barely restrained disdain as she approached the table. Marjorie smiled a tight, fake smile.

"Hello. So kind of you to join us. Fifteen minutes late."

"Traffic was absolutely dreadful. You could have picked a better time, you know."

Marjorie's expression twitched. "Sorry, but this was the best time that worked for us."

She emphasized us, her eyes flicking to Reece. Constance finally turned to look at him as well, her eyes moving up and down his body. Reece wasn't trying to make a bad impression, mind; he had broken out his best button up and left his jacket in the car at Marjorie's request. But the look on Constance's face told him he probably could have just worn a bin bag and she would have judged him exactly the same.

"Goodness, Marjorie. You've brought a guest and you can't be bothered to introduce him? How rude." Marjorie opened her mouth to argue, but Constance was already putting on her sweetest smile. "Constance Van Gould." She said the name with a knowing look, like she expected him to be impressed or intimidated. "It's so nice to meet you."

"Reece Knight. And I'm not a guest, I'm Marjorie's husband." Reece hadn't been planning on trotting out his own last name, but now he couldn't resist the urge.

That was probably a lot of information to offer at once, though. Constance's expression fell, her eyes wide as she processed it all. She chose to focus on the most important thing, of course. "Knight? As in the Knight family?"