Molly cuts her eyes to her mom before looking at Dad. “I . . . I don’t have an announcement.”
Jill frowns. “But you said . . .”
“I said I needed to talk to you about something. There’s no announcement.”
Jill grimaces. “I’m sorry,” she says softly. “I misunderstood. We can talk later. Of course.”
“Nonsense. Don’t keep us in suspense,” Dad says. “What do you need to talk about?”
Molly puts her fork down and draws in a deep breath. “I need a loan. I lost my job, and I’m struggling to keep my apartment.”
I can practically hear the tires screeching in my father’s head as his fork drops to his plate and he stares at his favorite child. “What do you mean, you lost your job?”
I hold my breath. Dad always wished I could be more athletic, then he got a daughter who was. He always wished I, his above-average daughter, could excel in school, and then he got a daughter who did. He pushed me to pursue something more practical than theater and literature, and when he married Jill, he got a daughter who did.
All that considered, I sometimes forget that Dad is just as tough on Molly as he is on me—maybe even tougher. She’s his shining star.
There’s a vulnerability all over her face as she avoids his steely gaze. I can’t blame her. It’s pretty intense. “We lost funding. There’s no work. I’ll find something else, but it’ll take some time.”
“But you already have applications out,” he says. She stares blankly back at him. “Résumés, cover letters—that’s child’s play. You have so much great experience, and the world is your oyster. This shouldn’t be an issue.”
“I’m working on it.” She bows her head and pushes her food around her plate.
My father takes a breath and exhales slowly.
I hate this for her. While I’ve always hoped for evidence that Molly isn’t perfect, I know how it feels to be on the receiving end of Dad’s disapproval, and it sucks.
“You have savings, though,” my father says. “Money to live on until you find the next job? You always put thirty percent of your pay into savings. I taught you that.”
“Dad,” she says, exasperation clear in her voice now. “It’s not easy for a single woman to live in the city on a non-profit management income. I don’t have savings at all, and if I don’t want to lose my apartment, I’m going to need some help until I find a new job.” She looks to her mother. “I was hoping—”
My father’s already shaking his head. “No. We made it very clear to you girls from the beginning that we would help you get where you’re going, and then you’d be on your own. We’re not going to be those parents who let their children fail over and over again throughout their lives with no consequences. At some point, you have to let the baby bird fly free, and if she falls, she falls.”
Jill gasps, and her cheeks flush pink to red as she stares at my father across the table.
“Dad,” I say. “That’s harsh.”
He shifts his gaze to me. “You’ve been through hard times. Did you ask for money after Harrison left you? With all the debt you racked up, I’m sure it would have been easier to ask us to bail you out.”
My cheeks heat at that reminder. When I was married to Harrison, he encouraged me to take lavish spa days and go shopping with my friends. He handled the finances, and I had no idea that all those credit card bills were piling up, only getting the minimum payment each month. It was so important to Harrison that it looked like we had money to the outside world that he even let me believe it. He “let me” keep that crazy debt after we divorced, too. I wouldn’t have felt right about him taking it on, but I couldn’t help but resent Harrison’s lack of transparency about our financial situation. My whole marriage was a lesson in lies by omission.
“If you did it, so can Molly,” Dad says.
My stepsister looks utterly defeated, and I shoot her an apologetic smile. “I’m sure Molly will be fine, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve a helping hand. We all need help from time to time.”
Dad scowls at
me. “What’s gotten into you tonight, Ava? My word is final.”
I open my mouth, but Jill reaches across the table and brushes my arm with her fingertips. I see the warning in her eyes telling me to let it go for now. I have to grit my teeth to keep from saying more.
“Ava?” Jill says as we’re cleaning up the kitchen. Dad retired to his office to take a business call, and Molly excused herself to her old room to shower. “Could I ask you a favor?”
I nod. My stomach’s been in knots since dinner, and I would worry that I offended Jill by not eating her cooking, but it seems no one but Dad had much of an appetite. “What’s that?”
“You know your father,” she says. “I don’t expect him to budge on this Molly thing, but I’m going to talk to him after he unwinds tonight.”
After he unwinds is Jill’s code for after he has his whiskey. Not sure whiskey’s gonna help. He was already half lit when he went off at the dinner table. “It’s nice of you to try,” I say. I don’t expect him to budge, either. My father doesn’t budge. It’s not in his personality. He makes a decision and he sticks to it. This might be an admirable quality in a businessman, but it’s shit in a father.