"What do you mean when you call my daughter your leading lady?" Adele's measured tones did not faze Harris.

"It can only mean one thing, Chef Adele. She's the star of Lighthouse Production's newest holiday offering," he said, and Jeanette served him a neat whisky without asking.

"What? You needed some big girl to play the dumb, plucky, but clueless heroine?" she asked confrontationally, and he raised a brow at her.

"No, mam. I needed an actress of substance with emotional depth, relatability, charm, poise, and that spark that attracts an audience. Mercedes ticked all of those boxes. She has a great presence and has done a splendid job portraying my mother."

"I thought Durscilla signed that role?" Kelsey asked with a frown when my mother seemed to have difficulty computing what Harris said.

"She was not a good fit, despite her resemblance to her grandmother. She also didn't possess the right chemistry with Dean, so we cast her as the villain. The story is based loosely on my mother's life, but Tessa wrote it as a novel."

"And what does Druscilla say about this?" Kelsey asked.

My mother often took more than a few moments to absorb unexpected things and chew on them.

The problems usually started when she stopped processing, and I braced myself, stopping just short of downing a little liquid courage.

"And what experience does Mercedes have with acting that qualifies her for a lead in such a big movie?" Adele asked.

And here it was: that little note of disbelief touched with the tiniest bit of condescension.

"She majored in drama and has Jeanette as a coach. Plus, she's dealt with my shit for three years. She can handle any situation and remain absolutely calm, even when I'm being a raging asshole, and Mirelly gives up and goes home until I decide to act like a human being; she calms me and handles me."

"Harris, let's be real. My daughter," she motioned at me, making it very clear what she meant, "is not leading lady material, and I will not watch her get her heart broken."

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" Kelsey said, toppling her chair and turning on my mother for the first time in our lives, and I'd never heard her swear.

Adele hates it.

Seeing Kelsey fight for me was almost worth the hurt in my heart and nausea churning in my stomach as all my old insecurities streamed back from the darkest recesses of my soul.

"Mercedes does not need anyone breaking her heart when she has you to do it for her. Do you want to know why she won't come home and live in LA? I'll tell you. You are the reason she doesn't come home.

"You are so busy protecting your helpless little lamb from the world that you can't see that the only thing she needs protecting from is you."

She gestured from mother to me with those artistic hands of hers.

I often thought that she would probably be a painter or a sculptor if she were not a chef.

"Why are you always so hard on her? If I do something wrong, you shrug. Mercedes doesn't even need to do anything; just the possibility that she might is enough to get you dictating to her like she's a moron.

"Right now, you are shocked that she didn't tell you what was going on in her life. I applaud her for untying the apron strings and having her own life without your constant micromanaging disapproval. If you raised me the way you raised her, I wouldn't be a world-renown chef; I'd be surprised if I could tie my own fucking shoes."

"I saw your face when Harris said she could handle any situation; you almost scoffed. The thing is, only you have the ability to reduce Mercedes to your image of her. Ask Betsey or Chanel what they think of my sister, and you'll get an answer you don't expect. Betsey once admitted that if it weren't for you, Mercedes would be a great chef, but you made her hate cooking.

"Excuse me; I've lost my appetite. And Mercedes? Congratulations, I was waiting for you to show Mother what you were made of."

I would have been less surprised if little green men dropped from the ceiling and did a conga line.

That speech had obviously been marinating for a few years, and having my sister in my corner was an unexpected bonus. Especially now that I realized she had always been in my corner, but Mother always stood so firmly between us that I couldn't see her properly.

Yet she saw me.

"I was trying to protect you. You remind me of myself at your age. I was a little lost, not exactly driven, and with dreams in my eyes, and I wanted to spare you the pain that made me the person I am."

Those words were the truth; I could see it, but as I looked at her, even though I understood, a lifetime of hurt bubbled up inside me.

"So what? You prepared me for life by swaddling me in razor blades and convincing me that I was useless, unworthy, and incapable and that you were ashamed that I was your daughter?" I asked with such utter calm, but it wasn't tranquility seething through my veins.

"What? No! I never meant to..."

But I was done listening to Adele Benoit's version of the story.

"You didn't mean to make me feel like I was a mistake? You didn't mean to make me feel that my figure was the way it is because I have a total lack of self-control and that it said everything about my character?

"You didn't mean to stand in judgment of every idea and hope I ever had? You didn't mean to mold me into your image, and you dismissed me when I couldn't be what you wanted me to be?

"Peel the potatoes, Mercedes, you are good at that. Cut the beans for your sister, Mercedes. You can manage that, can't you? Pick something practical to study. You might not be a great chef and are not front-of-house material, but perhaps you can do the books?

"Your 'be realistic and manage your expectations' approach to life was like an ice pick that sheered off bits of me every day, and I left before you could push me over the edge."

Tears burned in my throat as years of pain bubbled out.

It was true; what filled the heart came out of the mouth.

"If you were not my mother and I didn't love you, I would have left sooner, and I would hate you."

If everything I said up to that moment shocked her, that last sentence clearly ripped the foundations from under her.

"You may be a great chef and businesswoman, and front-of-house may be one of your attributes, but you destroyed me. You almost made me hate Kelsey, too, because she was always the bright shining example I had to live up to.

"I never realized how much it hurt her to see how you hurt me... until tonight."

I refused to allow my tears to fall as moisture streaked down her cheeks.

Rarely have I seen my mother speechless, but getting it all off my chest was worth it.

"That's enough, Mercedes," Lizzy said gently.

"Why are you mothering my daughter?" Adele turned on Lizzy to avoid her own feelings.

"Because you obviously didn't."

Adele was about to bite back, but I wouldn't let her.

"Say one more word, Mother, and I will cut you from my life like a tumor." The icy tones of my voice were Druscilla-inspired and had a very odd effect on Adele.

"You sound just like your grandmother."

Her lips turned down, and her eyes became cool.

Why did she never speak of Lenore?

"Maybe if she did a better job of raising you, we would not be making a spectacle of ourselves," I said, more like Ariell. Gentler and more understanding, with no sharpness or recrimination behind it—only my sadness at finally seeing the woman behind the mask and almost feeling her pain.

"I never wanted to hurt you," she said, and I finally let my tears fall.

"And your fear of hurting me made you hurt me. The thing we don't want to do is the thing we do, and the person we don't want to become is the one we turn into. Perhaps you and I both need to do some soul-searching," I suggested, and she realized immediately that we were done talking, but she was ready to go.

"I'm sorry," she managed through tight lips.

"As am I."

She stared at me for a few moments before leaving the room, and it wasn't until she was gone that I realized my legs were shaking so badly that I needed to sit down.

***

"Well, that was better than my soaps," Erika said, motioning for Jeanette to refill my glass.

"It was time you confronted her," Harris said, touching my shoulder. "I'll tell Pagliani you need the day off. Drown your sorrows, spend time with your friends, and talk to your mother tomorrow. She's your mother, and now that things are out in the open, you both need a chance at a new beginning.

"No. I don't want the day off, and I will speak to my mother when I am ready. Please don't speak to Pagliani."

"If you're sure, Mercedes?"

"I'm certain."

"I bid you a good night, ladies."

"Goodnight," they chorused.

"Wine or tissues," Jeanette asked, and I shook my head.

"Neither, but I'm hungry."

"I can't eat when I am upset," Sherise said.

"That's why you look like a gust of wind can blow you over," Erika said, giving me a buttered scone with a dusting of fine biltong (beef jerky).

"Are you okay?" Jeanette asked, and I stared at her for a minute.

"No, but I have a lot to think about. Right now, I don't want to be alone with my thoughts, and sorry about all this."

"Atlas adopted you, you're family, and that's what family is for," Lizzy said tongue in cheek, but the sympathy in her eyes made me laugh through my tears.

Druscilla opened a can of worms when she called Adele, but she also did me a favor. This had been more cleansing than all the therapy in the world. A lansing of old wounds that would now finally get to heal.

(Version 2.)