Chapter 9 - GRANDMA’S OTHER FACEDana remembered more once she understood Reid wanted facts rather than excuses.
“Mrs. Lane was always different when you were home.”
“How?”
“Patient.”
“Specific.”
Dana thought.
“She would let Maisie interrupt her.”
“And when I wasn’t?”
“She hated interruption.”
“Anything else?”
“She never raised her voice around you.”
The recording proved that.
Cecelia’s most cutting words came when Reid was absent.
Dana continued.
“She monitored staff.”
“Meaning?”
“If Maisie cried, Mrs. Lane wanted to know who comforted her.”
Reid stared.
“Why?”
“She said we were reinforcing behavior.”
“Did she tell you not to comfort my daughter?”
Dana looked ashamed.
“Sometimes.”
Reid stood.
“No.”
Dana’s eyes filled.
“I should’ve ignored her.”
“You should’ve told me.”
“I know.”
He turned away.
Anger was easy.
Accountability was harder.
Dana had failed.
But he had created a household where his mother’s authority went unquestioned.
“Why did everyone listen to her?”
Dana answered honestly.
“Because Briarstone was hers before it was yours.”
Reid looked at her.
“And because she raised you.”
That mattered.
Cecelia’s authority was not official.
It was cultural.
People obeyed because she acted like disobedience was unthinkable.
One longtime gardener, Luis Herrera, told Reid he once heard Maisie crying behind the upstairs study door.
“I asked if she was okay.”
“And?”
“Your mother said Maisie was having quiet time.”
“Did you hear the door locked?”
Luis hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“She told me you approved.”
Again.
Cecelia constantly borrowed Reid’s authority.
Your father said.
Reid wants.
Reid agrees.
He had never said any of it.
That afternoon Cecelia arrived at the front gate.
Security called Reid.
“Mrs. Lane is here.”
“Do not let her in.”
“She says she needs medication.”
Reid checked.
Her medication remained in the master guest suite.
He sent Dana to collect it.
Cecelia refused to leave.
“Tell my son to come to the gate.”
Reid did.
Maisie watched from an upstairs window.
Cecelia stood outside the iron gate in a cream coat.
Reid walked down the drive alone.
“This is ridiculous.”
Cecelia began.
“You could have sent someone.”
“I did.”
“She forgot my documents.”
“What documents?”
“Private.”
“Then give Dana a list.”
Cecelia looked toward the house.
“Where is Maisie?”
“Not your concern today.”
“She is my granddaughter.”
“And you frightened her.”
“I disciplined her.”
Reid’s jaw tightened.
“You called her a bastard.”
“I lost my temper.”
“You pulled her hair.”
“I held her.”
“You locked her in rooms.”
Cecelia stopped.
“So she’s telling stories.”
“Multiple staff confirmed the locked study.”
“That child has always known how to recruit sympathy.”
Reid stared at his mother.
Then:
“Why do you hate Lauren?”
Cecelia’s face changed.
“What?”
“Not dislike.”
Reid stepped closer.
“Hate.”
“I don’t hate her.”
“You’ve spent years poisoning Maisie against her.”
“I told the truth.”
“You told my daughter her mother left because she cried.”
Cecelia said nothing.
“That’s true?” Reid asked.
“No.”
“Then why say it?”
“Because Maisie needed to stop idealizing a woman who abandoned her.”
“She was six.”
Cecelia looked away.
“She deserved to understand.”
“No.”
Reid’s voice hardened.
“She deserved adults who did not use her pain to win arguments.”
Cecelia stared at him.
“You have no idea what Lauren did.”
“Then tell me.”
“She destroyed you.”
“That was my marriage.”
“She humiliated this family.”
“Again, my marriage.”
“She walked away from your child.”
“Then why did you hide her letters?”
Cecelia’s face went completely still.
Reid saw it.
“There it is.”
“I did what I thought was necessary.”
“For whom?”
“For you.”
“No.”
Reid shook his head.
“You keep saying everything was for me.”
“It was.”
“Then why didn’t I know?”
Silence.
“Why did you have to hide it if it was for me?”
Cecelia looked toward the house.
“You were weak after Lauren left.”
Reid almost smiled from disbelief.
“You decided for me.”
“I protected you.”
“You controlled me.”
Cecelia’s expression turned cold.
“Be careful.”
Reid stared.
That same tone.
The one Maisie knew.
For the first time, he recognized it from childhood.
Not as authority.
As threat.
He opened the gate enough to hand her medication through.
“You’re not coming back inside.”
Her face tightened.
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Reid.”
He stepped back.
“And until I understand exactly what you did with Lauren’s messages, you do not contact Maisie.”
Cecelia’s face became pale.
“You’re choosing that woman.”
Reid shook his head.
May you like
“I’m choosing my daughter.”
Then he closed the gate.
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