“Coffee, Doris,” she said, yawning like a cat in sunlight. “Make his strong, mine half and half. You know how he likes it.”
I handed them their mugs without a word.
Edmund didn’t even glance at me. Just sipped. Then said, “Bacon and omelet, Doris. Lizzy loves it the way I do. None of that salty mess you used to make. She's watching her figure—not that it shows, huh?”
Elizabeth chuckled and leaned against the counter like she owned it. “Not everyone wants to look like a stick wrapped in sadness, sweetie.”
I smiled. Not out of kindness. Just strategy.
Smile. Just smile. You’ve cooked for enemies before.
I cracked more eggs. Let the oil sizzle. Pretended I didn’t hear them talking about the night. About the penthouse. About how soft the sheets were. About how Edmund snored less when he was “with her.” About how my shampoo made him sneeze. They ate like I was the maid. Talked like I wasn’t real.
Then the front door flung open.
“Family’s here!” Lester’s voice boomed like a sitcom dad. “Let the party begin!”
Loisa followed behind him, heels clicking against the tiles, holding up a new designer purse like it was the Holy Grail. “Mom, look! Elizabeth gave me this! Can you believe it? Real leather! Italian! And these earrings? Gifted. God, she’s such a giver.”
She twirled like a child. Like she didn’t already own closets full of things Lester bought for her. Not that he ever bought me a single scarf.
Behind them, the twins stormed in with that careless energy only teenagers have. Lyle was wearing sunglasses indoors. Nash had something massive covered in brown paper.
Loisa laughed again, too loud. “Didn’t you hear? Lizzie gave us the whole penthouse. We slept like royals. You should’ve seen the tub. Bigger than our bedroom.”
“Oh, and the view,” Lester chimed in, opening a bottle of wine without asking. “From the 36th floor? Breathtaking. Sun hits the windows just right. Like a painting. Like—perfect.”
It was nine in the morning.
Nash and Lyle dragged their ‘surprise’ into the living room and tore off the cover. It was a giant, glossy print of the family, taken at the Luciana Hotel gala. Everyone dressed like aristocrats. Posed like nobility. Elizabeth in the middle. My sons beside her. Edmund’s hand resting on her waist.
I wasn’t in the picture.
“Look, Grandma!” Nash said with a smirk. “Don’t we look like a real family here?”