The next morning, I called my parents.
“We need to talk.”
At the country club restaurant, my mother smirked. “Showing off your wife already?”
Claire calmly placed the photograph on the table. “Do you remember her, Diana?”
My mother glanced at it. “Of course I do. Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize her?”
Claire’s voice was steady. “My mother never recovered from what you did.”
“You married the help’s daughter,” my mother said coldly.
