“I see,” she said frostily.
“I’m not that little girl anymore. I make my own decisions now.”
“Really? You have no idea of what Machiavellian scheming Marietta Muir is capable of. Her son was cut from the same cloth.”
Harper’s voice was laced with anger. “Her son was my father. He has a name, Mother. Parker.”
“Defensive now, are we? Well, Parker seduced and married me because he wanted me to publish his novel. He chose the wrong victim. I cast him out quicker than the ink dried on our wedding license. After you were born, I never got a farthing from him. He left me with nothing.”
“Thank you,” Harper said, deeply hurt.
“Harper, you know I didn’t mean it in that way.” Georgiana sounded instantly contrite. “You’re my daughter. I care about you. That’s why when I hear you talking about throwing your life away, I get frantic.”
“It’s my life. I’m twenty-eight years old. I called to ask you for your help. Not your permission.”
After another long silence punctuated with puffs on her cigarette, Georgiana spoke again, now calmly. “You’re twenty-eight years old. That’s the salient point.”
Harper tensed again. Her mother’s calm voice was her most deadly. “What do you mean?”
“You say you’re not a child?” Georgiana laughed bitterly. “You’ve blithely collected your income from the trust fund all these years like it fell from the sky. If you did ever bother to inquire, you’d have realized that your trust fund was set up with ironclad clauses. You can’t touch the principal until you’re thirty. Even if I wanted to, which I do not, there’s absolutely nothing I could do to get you your money early. You must wait until you are thirty.”
Harper slumped back down on the bed. She couldn’t get her hands on her money for two more years. Her hopes of buying Sea Breeze were dashed.
“Will this young man of yours wait until you’re thirty?”
“He doesn’t care about the money,” Harper said lifelessly. “He doesn’t even know about it.”
“Your grandmother Muir certainly does.”
Harper didn’t respond.
“Darling, I’m on your side. I know they’ve put a lot of pressure on you. You have a good heart and you’ve been made to feel somehow responsible to save the family house. But that most certainly is not your responsibility.”
“What about Greenfields Park? Is that my responsibility?”
“You stand to inherit Greenfields Park. No one is asking you to rescue it.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Georgiana’s tone changed, became more distracted. “My car is here. Harper, I don’t have time to belabor this. I’m already quite late for a meeting.”
“We need to finish this.”
“We are finished. Your new job is here waiting for you, but it won’t wait for long. You know how busy things get here in the fall. Horses at the gate.” Georgiana waited for a response. When she didn’t get one, she asked tersely, “Are you still there?”
“I’m here.”
“You’ll feel better when you’re back in New York. Get the southern miasma out of your brain. You know I’m right.”
“I don’t know that.”
“Enough. I don’t have any more time to argue this. If you do not come home immediately, not only will you not get the principal from your trust fund, but I will make certain you no longer receive your income from it. Do you understand?”
Harper did not respond.
“Let me rephrase it in terms even a child can understand. You will return to New York, immediately, or I will cut you off. From everything. Do you love this boy enough to give it all up?”
Harper sat stunned. She knew that her mother was the executor of her trust fund, but she didn’t know that Georgiana could do that. Once again her mother had turned the tables. She demanded that Harper be the good little girl, the obedient daughter, and do as she was told. To do this meant not only giving up the dream of buying Sea Breeze, but relinquishing the possibility of moving to the lowcountry. She would lose Taylor.
“Do you hear me?” Georgiana asked sharply.
“Perfectly clear.”
“Good. Call with your flight reservations and I’ll have a car pick you up. Come home, Harper, where you belong.”
Harper stood quietly and felt an odd calm. She did not feel the anger or timid remorse she’d felt after a tirade of her mother’s that she had in the past. It was more the way one felt when something turned out exactly as one expected.
Her gaze swept over her bedroom, the one Mamaw had created just for her to make her feel she had her own space at Sea Breeze. To feel special . . . to feel loved. Each appointment—from the muted colors, the schoolroom desk she’d used as a child, to the books—was selected especially for her. Then she let her gaze travel out the plantation shutters to the Cove beyond. It flowed on, steadily and strong. Her talisman against evil.
“Are you there?”
She heard her mother’s terse, impatient voice and knew Georgiana would never change. There would always be an issue, an appointment, a book, a lover, something that would take precedence over Harper. She knew that if there ever was to be a change in her life, it had to begin with her.
“Yes, I’m here. I am right where I belong. I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mother, but as I said, I won’t be returning to New York. Really must go. Ta!”
With one movement of her thumb, a fraction of an inch, Harper disconnected. “Enough,” she said, repeating her mother’s words.
Stepping out into the hall, Harper heard the murmur of voices and clinking dishes in the kitchen. Needing her sisters now, she followed the sound but hesitated at the door when she heard her name mentioned. She peeked in to see her sisters at the sink, washing dishes. She ducked back to listen.
She heard Carson’s voice. “Sure I’m glad she’s buying Sea Breeze. Of course. Only . . . let’s face it. Being invited back as a guest isn’t the same.”
“The same as what?” Dora said over the sound of running water in the sink. “You’re a guest now.”
“Yes and no. It’s Mamaw’s house. We’re all on equal footing. What will it be when Harper buys it?”