Shadow Creek by Joy Fielding Page B

round table next to the window overlooking Shadow Creek, Lake George in the distance below, tension hanging over their heads like a shroud. It was still light out, darkness perhaps an hour away. Night fell much more abruptly in the mountains than in the city, Val knew, wishing now that she’d followed Jennifer’s example and showered before coming downstairs. At least she should have changed her clothes for dinner. Not that she would have been any competition for the always lovely Jennifer, in her fashionably rumpled white linen slacks and crisp, red-and-white candy-striped shirt.
    What competition? Val wondered, gulping at her wine. The contest was over. Jennifer had already won.
    “Hey, Mom. Go easy on that stuff, okay?”
    “Is something wrong with your salmon?” Val asked inreturn. Brianne had been pushing at her food the entire meal without eating much of anything.
    “I’m not very hungry.”
    “Would you like to try some of my veal? It’s wonderful.”
    “It’s a baby calf. I think it’s disgusting.”
    “No, actually, it’s delicious.” Val chewed with exaggerated enthusiasm while stealing a glance at everyone else’s plates. Both James and Jennifer had ordered the sushi-grade tuna, while Melissa was finishing up her bowl of pasta primavera. Even the bickering newlyweds at the next table had agreed on fish. Am I the only meat-eater left on the planet? she wondered.
    “I pretty much stopped eating meat when I was eleven,” Jennifer said, as if Val had asked the question out loud. “My mother had to prepare two different meals every night for dinner.”
    Brianne gave her mother a look that said, You see. It’s not such a big deal.
    Just add it to my ever-lengthening list of failings, Val thought, feeling the room spin. She thought she recognized the young woman who’d plowed into her earlier, then given her the finger, sitting several tables away, engrossed in earnest conversation with the young man sitting across from her, although she couldn’t be sure it was her. Hell, she wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
    “Everything—and I do mean
everything
—was a big deal to my mother,” James was saying. “She hated cooking with a passion. Although, surprisingly, she loved to bake chocolate cake. And I have to admit, it’s still the best chocolate cake I’ve ever tasted.”
    “My mother’s idea of cooking was to open a can,” Melissa said, not to be outdone. “I was twenty-one before I realized there was such a thing as fresh vegetables.”
    “I’ve been thinking of becoming a vegetarian,” Brianne said.
    Who
is
this girl? Val wondered, staring hard at her daughter and watching as her face divided into two blurry halves. What has she done with Brianne?
    Brianne’s BlackBerry signaled yet another text message coming through.
    “Don’t answer that,” Val warned.
    “What?”
    “Answer it and it goes in the garbage.”
    “What’s
your
problem?”
    You’re
my problem, Val wanted to shout. You and that piece of eye candy sitting next to you. Not to mention, my mother’s a drunk who didn’t remember my birthday, your father is bombarding me with mixed messages, the room is doing cartwheels, and I think there’s a distinct possibility I’m going to throw up. What she said was “I just think it’s rude to text at the dinner table, that’s all.”
    “So, I’ll go into the lobby.” Brianne was already halfway out of her chair.
    “You’ll do no such thing. Sit down. Now.”
    “Oh, for crap’s sake.” Brianne plopped back down in her chair, pursing her lips into an unattractive pout. “When are you guys leaving anyway?”
    “Something tells me your mom’s not in any condition to drive,” Melissa said softly.
    “So you or James can drive,” Brianne volunteered for them.
    “Sorry, kiddo. I’m way too tired to drive back to New York tonight,” Melissa said.
    James nodded his agreement. “Looks like we’ll be spending the night here, pumpkin.”
    “What? No. I’ll be fine