Chapter 66
Margaux shoved the last of her shopping bags into the trunk of her car, her movements sharp and precise. Adelaine, still clutching her designer handbag as if it were an extension of herself, stood beside her own sleek vehicle, exuding an air of mild exasperation.
“Well, I think that went well,” Adelaine said, her tone light but laced with condescension.
Margaux slammed the trunk shut with more force than necessary. “It was a disaster, Mother. Like it always is.”
Adelaine arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “You exaggerate. You look stunning in that dress, and I’m sure the ball will be a triumph. If only you’d try to enjoy yourself instead of acting so… combative.”
Margaux bit her tongue, knowing any retort would only extend the conversation. She walked around to the driver’s side, reaching for the door handle when a familiar voice called out from across the street.
“Margaux!”
She turned instinctively, her mood lifting slightly at the sight of Pierre approaching. He crossed the street with his usual ease, his gait confident yet relaxed. His tailored navy coat hung perfectly on his broad shoulders, and the faint shadow of stubble on his jawline softened his otherwise polished appearance.
“Pierre,” Margaux greeted, her voice warmer than it had been all afternoon.
Pierre reached her and pulled her into a quick hug, placing a light kiss on her cheek in the French way. “It’s good to see you again, chérie.” His French accent curled around the words, as smooth and melodic as always.
Adelaine, standing a few steps away, stiffened. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she observed the interaction, her disapproval palpable.
“And who is this?” Adelaine asked, her tone sharp as a knife.
Pierre turned to her with a polite smile, extending his hand. “Pierre Moreau, a friend of Margaux’s.”
Adelaine hesitated for the briefest moment before shaking his hand, her grip icy. “Adelaine Hawthorne. Margaux’s mother.” Her voice carried a clipped edge, and Margaux recognized the warning signs immediately.
Pierre, oblivious to the growing tension, continued with his usual charm. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hawthorne. Margaux has mentioned you before.”
“I’m sure she has,” Adelaine replied curtly, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
Margaux shot Pierre a subtle look, silently begging him to keep the interaction short. But Pierre, ever the optimist, pressed on.
“Margaux told me you two were shopping today. I hope it went well?”
Adelaine sniffed delicately. “It was… productive.” Her gaze flicked to Pierre’s hand resting lightly on Margaux’s shoulder, her disapproval intensifying.
“Yes,” Margaux interjected quickly, trying to defuse the situation. “We found a dress for the ball.”
Pierre’s eyes lit up. “The ball? Sounds good. I’m sure you’ll look stunning, Margaux.”
Adelaine’s lips twitched into a tight, humorless smile. “Margaux has always been a… unique beauty.”
Pierre laughed, apparently oblivious to the insult hidden in Adelaine’s words. “I’d say she’s much more than that. But of course, you’d know that better than anyone, being her mother.”
Margaux winced. Pierre, stop.
Adelaine’s eyes hardened, her voice dropping to a frigid tone. “Yes, well, I’ve always had a certain standard for Margaux. It’s important to present oneself appropriately, wouldn’t you agree?”
Pierre tilted his head, his smile faltering slightly. “I suppose that depends on what one values.”
Margaux quickly stepped between them, placing a hand on Pierre’s arm. “Pierre, it was so nice of you to stop by, but I’m sure you’re busy. We wouldn’t want to keep you.”
Pierre glanced at her, puzzled by her abruptness, but he nodded. “Of course. I just wanted to say hello.”
He turned back to Adelaine, offering her a polite nod. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Hawthorne.”
Adelaine’s response was lukewarm at best. “Likewise.”
As Pierre leaned in to kiss Margaux’s cheek again, Adelaine’s sharp intake of breath was impossible to miss. Margaux gave her a pointed look over Pierre’s shoulder, daring her to say something.
When Pierre finally stepped back, he gave Margaux one last warm smile. “I’ll see you soon, chérie.”
“Take care, Pierre,” Margaux replied, watching as he walked away.
The moment he was out of earshot, Adelaine let out a disdainful sigh. “Well, that was… unexpected.”
Margaux braced herself. “What now?”
Adelaine crossed her arms, her expression a mix of irritation and incredulity. “That man—he’s so…” She searched for the right word before settling on, “provincial.”
“Provincial?” Margaux repeated, her voice rising. “What does that even mean, Mother?”
“You know exactly what I mean,” Adelaine said, her tone dismissive. “The accent, the over-familiarity, the complete lack of refinement—he’s hardly the kind of company you should be keeping.”
Margaux’s hands balled into fists at her sides. “He’s my friend. And for the record, he has more refinement in his little finger than most of the people you fawn over.”
Adelaine scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Margaux. He’s charming, I’ll give him that, but he’s clearly not… suitable.”
Margaux stepped closer, her voice low and furious. “You don’t get to decide who’s suitable for me, mom. Not anymore.”
Adelaine opened her mouth to reply, but Margaux cut her off. “And while we’re on the subject, maybe stop worrying about how other people measure up and start looking in the mirror.”
Without waiting for a response, Margaux turned on her heel and climbed into her car, slamming the door behind her.
Adelaine stood there for a moment, stunned into silence. Then, with a huff of indignation, she got into her own car and drove off without another word.
Margaux sat behind the wheel, her hands gripping the steering wheel as she took a deep, shuddering breath. Her mother’s words still rang in her ears, but so did Pierre’s kindness. For once, she allowed herself to focus on the latter.
As she started the car and pulled onto the road, she couldn’t help but wonder how long she could keep balancing these two worlds—and how much longer she wanted to try.