It was the first time I had spoken in almost twenty minutes. Marlene looked at me surprised, as if she had forgotten I could speak.
“Well, Helen, since you’re asking, we’ve decided it’s better for Kloe to spend time with people who can add value to her life. A quality education, enriching experiences, you know… things that, well, that some people just can’t offer.”
I felt the dagger twist deeper. She was telling me I wasn’t good enough for my own granddaughter, that my love, my time, my bedtime stories were worthless compared to what they considered value.
Michael said nothing. He just drank his whiskey, avoiding my gaze.
“I understand,” I said simply. I kept my voice calm, neutral. “Anything else I should know?”
Marlene exchanged a look with her parents. There was something else. Of course, there was something else. This dinner wasn’t a reconciliation. It was a planned execution.
“Well,” she began, playing with her wine glass. “We also want to talk about expectations. Michael and I have built a life of a certain standard, a life that requires maintaining certain standards. And frankly, Helen, some of your appearances have been a bit embarrassing.”