Genevieve

Maybe Christmas week isn’t the best time to indulge in my nesting urges, but we’ve delayed it for too long. And I’ve always liked Saks during that time of the year. The lights are twinkling, there’s a cinnamon and ginger scent that lingers in the air, the music is jovial …

My fondness for holidays is very recent—a nice perk that comes with finding the right family. Before Jake and the guys, there were always too many expectations and rules. Christmas at the Kensingtons was a big affair, and we weren’t allowed a single hair out of place, which wasn’t fair to expect from kids. I can still remember the tedious ordeal that was the family picture, and the mere thought of it makes me shiver. Vicky and I were put in identical outfits and handed to a hairdresser who’d do their best to turn us into the most proper daughters there’s ever been. The year that Victoria died, though, I learned that having to do it all alone was far worse than having her by my side to joke about it the whole time.

When the romper I’m looking at becomes blurry, I realize that thinking of Victoria isn’t the best idea—not with those damn hormones playing their tricks on me all the time.

But my twin has been in my head a lot lately, like an afterthought that won’t go away. I’m about to become a mom, and while I have a stellar support system, I can’t help but wish Vicky was here. She would have made a fantastic aunt, and she would have been the one person I’d want with me in the delivery room, along with Jake.

A tear rolls down my cheek, so I wipe it and put the romper back on its rack. Another month of this until my hormones slowly regulate, and I’ll become a functional human being again.

“May I help you, ma’am?” a clerk kindly offers.

I give her a smile, probably looking like a lunatic with my teary eyes, and wave a dismissive hand. “I’m okay, thank you. Just can’t wait to stop crying every five minutes.”

“We get that a lot in this department,” she says with an understanding smile. “Are you finding everything you need?”

“I don’t know. I never thought shopping for a newborn would be so difficult. We’re expecting a January delivery, and given the projected weight, I should aim for three-month-old clothes. But what if this little hooligan decides to come out next week? I’ll have clothes that are too big, and I’ll have to start over.”

“Yes, this is a common concern. We offer a service for that if you’re interested. You can select whatever items you’re interested in buying and create a list. When the baby arrives, you send us a notice, and we’ll have the proper-sized items sent to your home within the day. All you need for now are a few things for your stay in the maternity ward, but everything else will be catered to your baby’s specific needs.”

“Oh, that sounds perfect.”

“Would you like me to assist you as you make your selection?”

“No, thank you. I think I’ll manage now.”

“Very well, ma’am. Don’t hesitate to ask me or one of my colleagues for help if you need any.”

“Thank you …” I look at the tag on her shirt ” … Destiny.”

“My pleasure, ma’am.” She offers me a courteous nod and goes on to find another pregnant woman in dire need of help.

With this new plan in mind, I have a much easier time filling the basket hooked in my arm. I pick everything in the size we’ll normally need, with the hope that this little kickboxer won’t decide to surprise us early. I’m not ready yet for the sleepless nights.

I have three rompers, the cutest set of socks, two bodysuits, and a sleeper that’ll make the baby look like a teddy bear when someone calls out my name behind me.

“Genevieve?”

The voice isn’t Jake’s—whom I’m expecting to arrive at any time now. But it’s still dreadfully familiar, and the cold shiver it sends up my spine tells me I haven’t healed as much as I thought. Slowly, I spin around, feeling like my huge belly is pushing my heart into my throat.

She hasn’t changed. In the three years since I last saw her, nothing about my mother looks different. There’s something in her eyes that feels new, though. Especially when she looks down at my swollen belly, and what looks like pain and regrets veil the blue of her irises.

“Vivienne,” I greet her with coldness.

She looks up to me again, still not over her slight shock. “I didn’t—I didn’t know you were …” It’s as though the words refuse to form on her tongue.

“I asked Gerry not to let you and Father know.”

That’s the deal I made with my brother. He gets to stay in my life and me in his, but I never want to hear about our parents, and he can’t share any aspects of my life with them either. A few weeks after meeting with my mother in NexaCorp’s coffee shop, and after a few much-needed therapy sessions, I went no contact with them. I sent emails to both Gerard and Vivienne, letting them know my intentions to cut them from my life and asking them to do me the courtesy of respecting it. They complied right away, and that had hurt more than it should have. Why didn’t they fight to keep me in their lives, at least a little? Was I that big of a disappointment to them?

But I suppose I couldn’t escape them forever because Mother is now standing in front of me, wearing one of her Chanel suits, looking exactly like she always did.

“How—how have you been doing?” she tentatively wonders.

“Aside from the obvious? Amazing. I have many friends, my own firm, the cutest dog, a great apartment … And a husband who worships the ground I walk on.”

“Oh, so you got married?”

“Five months ago,” I confirm, lifting my hand to show her the two rings I have there. “It was a small ceremony on a beautiful rooftop, very private, reserved for the people we cherish and love. We were supposed to do something bigger this autumn, but we decided to rush it so I wouldn’t suffer from the heat too much during our honeymoon.”

“Where did you go?”

“French Polynesia.” I give her this last answer before asking, “What are we doing, Vivienne?”

I can’t miss the guilt that flashes across her face, but there’s no way for me to tell if it’s genuine or another one of her manipulative tricks. “I’ve been meaning to contact you again,” she confesses, sounding uncharacteristically apologetic. “But I didn’t know how to approach you given everything I’ve put you through over the years.”

“Try decades.”

She winces, and her eyes become avoidant, another emotion I’m not used to seeing on her. “I’m aware that you owe me nothing, Genevieve, not after the way I’ve treated you. But I really hope you can grant me a little bit of your time so we can catch up and so I can express my deepest, most sincere apologies to you.”

I’m lost, entirely confused. This admission of wrongdoing is unexpected coming from her. The Vivienne I lashed out at in that coffee shop back then would never have said any of those things, perched too high on her mighty horse. Is there a chance that she genuinely changed?

As much as I want to believe it, alarms are going off in my head. I’ve worked too hard on myself to risk getting wrapped up in her bullshit again. My therapist did a great job at helping me detach myself from my fucked up family and heal all the wrongs they did to me.

Vivienne can probably sense my reluctance because she says, “Listen, I don’t want to force you to do anything, darling. I’ll go to the café and wait there. If you want to join me, I’ll be delighted. If you don’t … I’ll understand.”

I’m still trying to figure her out, wondering if she got even better at manipulating me when she gives me a small smile, a nod, and leaves me there. I watch her familiar silhouette walk away until she disappears behind a corner. What the hell was that? Who was that?

For an entire minute, I stay planted where I stand, processing what just happened and replaying it in my head over and over. In hindsight, it feels more like a vivid illusion caused by my hormones than a scene that truly happened.

It takes someone who needs to check out the rompers behind me to rip myself out of this weird trance. Shaking my head, I return to my shopping, troubled.

For the following hour, I fill three baskets with baby stuff. It’s too much, but stress tends to trigger some overspending tendencies that I can’t quite control—especially not in my pregnant state. We’ll need all that anyway, and everything will go to the Salvation Army once we no longer have any use for them. So, really, I’m helping the world.

I do feel a little guilty when the amount appears on the cashier’s screen, but I say nothing. Maybe I’ll go over everything and return a few articles if necessary.

Just as I’m done paying, my phone vibrates in my jacket’s pocket.

Baby Daddy — I’m so sorry, red. I thought I was going to rip my client’s head off for all his fucking questions. I’m leaving right now.

Crap, right. Jake was supposed to join me here, but with Vivienne’s unexpected appearance, I completely forgot. With a grimace, I type a reply.

Me — If you’re this late on the day I’m delivering your child, I will divorce you, Jacob Daniel Clarke.

Baby Daddy — I’ll divorce my heart from my chest if I’m not there, so don’t worry about that. Did you buy a lot? Can I take the Stingray, or do we need a bigger car?

Me — Bigger car. We have to look for a crib for your office, remember?

Baby Daddy — Fuck, right. I’ll take your SUV. See you in a blink, sexy mama.

I smile at his new nickname for me, which I know he also put as his contact name for my number. Since he isn’t on his bike, he’ll take a while to arrive all the way here. It’s the last Saturday before Christmas, so there’s traffic everywhere. That means I have nearly an hour until he’s here, and I can’t spend it standing up. My feet are killing me even though I’m wearing flats, and the pressure in my lower back is starting to feel uncomfortable.

The Saks Café sounds like a good place to wait for him to arrive, but that brings back the matter of Vivienne. I check the time on my phone and see it’s been almost an hour and a half since we accidentally met. The woman couldn’t even grant me ten minutes of her time before, so I doubt she’s still there. That means the coast is clear, and I can wait for my tardy husband with warm cocoa and something that’s carby and has a lot of cinnamon in it. Satisfied with my plan, I send Jake a text to let him know where I’ll be waiting for him.

With a large Saks bag that has all the baby things we’ll need for our trip to the maternity ward, I make my way downstairs to the café. I’m a little anxious as I reach it, worried my instinct was wrong, and Vivienne is still in there, somewhere. But as I scan the crowd from the entry point, I don’t see her perfectly styled head anywhere. I let out a reassured sigh, my shoulders sinking, and step inside to find an empty table. I spot one with two tall armchairs and an empty cup of coffee, so I head over there. When I get closer, though, I realize that while the coffee cup is empty, the chair in front of it, which had its back to me, isn’t.

The sight of Vivienne is so unexpected that I poorly hide my shock. While I stare in what must look like horror, her face, on the contrary, lights up when she sees me. “You came,” she lets out with a thankful smile.

“Uh … Yes.” I really need to sit down, and I can’t see anywhere else that’s free. So, holding back a sigh, I sit in front of my mother. I’m definitely too hormonal for this.

“I didn’t think you’d still be here,” I explain as I painstakingly remove my jacket.

“I told you I would wait.”

“Yes, but you were never patient.”

“That is true, yes.” Silence ensues, and I have absolutely no idea how I ended up here.

“What were you doing in the maternity department?” I wonder.

“I was heading to the Dior display next to it, and I thought I recognized you from afar. You look radiant.”

That has me squinting my eyes in doubt. “I look enormous.”

“You don’t. Pregnancy truly suits you. May I ask how far along you are?”

“We entered the ninth month three days ago.”

“Oh, so the baby is expected for the second half of January?”

I don’t feel comfortable with her knowing this, as if she could show up unannounced once I’ve delivered the precious package. “Around that time, yes.”

“Do you—Do you know the gender?”

“We do.” I don’t say more, and I can tell she’s dying for me to disclose the gender. But she doesn’t pry, discreetly pressing her lips together at the rebuttal. It’s a very subtle reaction, given her demanding nature, so I decide she deserves that I throw her a bone for it. “It’s a girl.”

This time, her face lights up. Before she can ask anything more, though, a waitress is by our side. “Good evening. May I take your order?” she asks me.

“I’ll have a hot cocoa, please. With whipped cream. And you have a seasonal roll with Christmas spices, right?”

“We do, yes.”

“I’ll have that as well, then.”

“Very well. Anything else for you, ma’am?” she asks Mother.

“Another coffee. And could I have … that Christmas roll as well, please?”

Wow, not only did she not react to my calorie-filled request, but she’s also trying one as well? Something is definitely going on with her. Maybe she’s dying, and the thought of spending eternity in hell makes her kinder.

The waitress takes her empty cup and leaves with our orders. Once we’re alone again, Mother leans slightly forward. “So, a girl, you said?”

“Yes, a healthy baby girl.”

“That is fantastic. I remember when I was pregnant with you and Victoria. I was so happy to know you would both be girls, but your father—” She stops, pressing her lips in a discontented line.

“My father what?”

“Well, he wasn’t too thrilled about it. He would have preferred another boy after Gerry.”

“Really? I never knew that.”

She nods and then becomes pensive. “We weren’t the greatest of parents, were we?”

“You were horrible parents. The nannies and the staff were more of a family to us than you ever were.”

I’m not going easy on her, but from my experience, she can take it. Or I think she can, but her eyes become glassy. Who the hell is this woman, and what has she done to Vivienne Kensington?

“No, you don’t get to cry like you’re the victim in this situation,” I dryly tell her.

“I’m not crying for that; I’m crying because of how much I’ve failed you and your sister. Gerry was different. I wasn’t as bitter with him, and your father was thrilled to have a son. But I became a different woman by the time you and Vicky were born, and I wasn’t the mother you deserved.”

“At least you’re self-aware.”

“It took me some time, but yes, I am. Has Gerry kept you updated about us at all?”

“I told him I’d cut him off as well if he spoke to me about you two. He has the right to go to Jake for the more important things, and then my husband decides if it’s worth telling me or not.”

“So, do you know your father and I are in the midst of a nasty divorce?”

“I am, yes. I can’t say I was surprised to hear it. It was only a matter of time until it happened.”

The waitress comes back with our things and settles the cups in front of us and then the plates next to them. My hot cocoa looks scandalously good, with mini marshmallows and chocolate shavings on top of the whipped cream. Jake will have my head if he knows I had something this decadent without him.

I thank the waitress with a smile, and when she’s gone, I return my attention to Vivienne. “Did he get his mistress pregnant?”

Mother stiffens but doesn’t react beyond that. “No, I decided to leave him. Our respective lawyers have been at each other’s throats for a year and a half—give or take.”

“The man loves his money, doesn’t he? It must be hard to get a good chunk of it, given the prenup you two probably signed.”

“I’m entitled to fifteen million per child, plus ten million per year we spent together. I think I’ll be fine.”

There she is–the cunning woman I grew up with. “I take it that’s not enough for you?”

“Well, I’m battling to get some properties as well. Particularly the house in Aspen.”

That was always my favorite place because we never felt as much like a family as when we went there. It isn’t overly large and can be run by three staffers, which means it was never as crowded as the other places.

“Want to take up on cross-country skiing?”

“No, I—I wanted to have it in my name so it can go to you. Gerry will get enough as it is, and I want to ensure you’re the one who inherits it. You always loved that place. You and Vicky.”

Alright, now I’m almost tempted to get up and leave because there’s no way this woman has changed as much as she did in the past three and some years. But then, I’m aware of how quickly I changed in the span of a few months, all thanks to Jake.

“What happened to you?” I ask, honestly curious to know what I owe this uncanny change to.

She ponders as if the answer is much, much more complex than I expect. “Those things you said to me that day … They stayed with me. No one ever talks to me that way, and I suppose it means I never had the truth thrown at my face like that before. It planted a seed in my mind, a seed that took root and grew over time.”

“I would have told you all those things years ago if I’d known it was all it took.”

The self-deprecating smile she gives me is one I don’t think I’ve ever seen on her. “I suppose you should have, yes. But that’s not all it took for me to open my eyes and take action.”

“Really? What else happened?”

“Two years ago, around that time of the year, I saw you and him.”

I’m not sure at all what she means, so I frown in confusion. “Me and who? Jake?”

She nods. “Your father and I were attending a Christmas gala at the Rockefeller Center, and I saw you on the ice rink, skating with him.”

The memory comes back quickly because there’s no way I could ever forget the enchanting date Jake and I had together that evening. We did all the cliché activities that couples do this time of the year, and it was beyond perfect for the sole fact that it was with him. We had hot pretzels, took pictures in front of the tree, shared a cone of roast chestnuts … And then I convinced him to rent skates and try his hand at ice skating.

“I’m from Australia. We don’t have it in our genes to be on ice,” he’d protested. “It’s like Jamaicans and bobsledding.”

“I’ll catch you if you fall, wombat. Come on, trust me.”

“I’m twice your weight, red. I’ll crush you to death.”

“I love having your weight on me, so I’ll take it. Let’s go, ladder guy.”

I’m lost in the memory of it when Mother speaks again. “That’s when it really hit me,” she recalls.

“What?”

“How wrong I was about him, you, and happiness in general.”

“Really?”

She gives me a single dry nod. “I stayed there for maybe ten minutes, watching you as if you were a complete stranger to me. I don’t recall ever seeing you like that before, Genevieve. You were laughing the whole time, radiating with happiness and pure, unaltered joy. Even when you fell because you struggled to help him back up, even when others were giving you side glances … Your cheerfulness never wavered because you were with him. And that’s when I saw the way he treats you—like a queen, exactly as you said. He shielded you from every single fall and stayed alert to your surroundings when you got distracted to make sure no one would crash into you. And, no matter how much he hated being on those skates, he kept trying because it made you so happy.”

For maybe the fourth time today, my eyes get watery again. I remember how amazing that date was, but hearing it from my mother’s perspective hits me in a different way. As stupid as it may sound, it makes me miss Jake, even though I was with him not even four hours ago.

“I told you he was great,” I remind Vivienne. “But you didn’t believe me.”

“I do now. I truly do. Listen, there’s no doubt that I’m not a good person. Even before your father, I was selfish, self-centered, and arrogant. Somehow, I managed to get even worse with time. I’m not saying I’m perfect now—far from it. But I’ve been seeing a therapist and working on myself.”

“I can tell, yeah.”

“One of my steps toward becoming a better person is to make amends with the people I’ve hurt.”

“Ah, so wanting to meet me wasn’t entirely selfless.”

“It’s both, Genevieve. It’s for my conscience and because you need to know it wasn’t you. It was never you but me and your father. We weren’t meant to be together and weren’t meant to have children. But we did, and miraculously, you and your brother didn’t turn out too bad.”

“You did a decent job overall. Only one child out of three died.”

When I realize what I just said, I slap a hand over my mouth. What brand of dark humor is that?! “I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “I have no idea where that came from.”

She doesn’t look as mortified as I do, and she offers me a small shrug. “Had we been better parents, more attentive, more considerate, that night wouldn’t have unfolded the way it did,” she concedes.

I’ve waited to hear this for so long that I expect some wave of relief to wash over me. But I’ve worked so well on myself that it doesn’t feel as good as I expected. Through therapy and self-introspection, I accepted a long time ago that Vicky’s death wasn’t my fault but an accident, a sick twist of fate.

It seems that Mother still has some way to go, though, given how sad and torn she looks. She’s been so remarkably different that I feel compelled to soothe her distress.

“We’re naming her after Jake’s mother,” I explain, grazing the tautness of my belly. “She died when he was thirteen, and we want our first girl to honor her. But her second name will be Victoria.”

Mother smiles at me gratefully, looking at my hand on my stomach.

“Alice Victoria Clarke,” I say, the full name already familiar on my tongue. “We’ll probably call her Avie because both names mean so much to us.”

“That is a lovely name, darling.”

Again, I question whether it’s possible that the woman before me is truly the same one I grew up with. This person doesn’t even sound like my mother, her voice devoid of its usual rigidness.

For many minutes, she does her best to catch up with the three years she missed. While I allow myself to relax a little, I never let my guard fully down. She’s hurt me too much in the past for me to let her back in so easily. People can change, yes, but can they change to this extent? She’s convincing, though; I’ll give her that. Especially when she doesn’t glare at me judgingly when I eat my Christmas roll and eats hers entirely.

I lose track of time, telling her about my new job, surprised that she approves of my small but growing law firm. Eventually, though, my attention gets dragged away from her by a tall and broad silhouette that rushes into the coffee shop, green eyes scanning the occupants with urgency.

Crap, I wanted to be far from Mother by the time Jake arrived, but it’s too late for that now. He’ll worry about me, thinking this unexpected encounter will make me relapse into the self-esteem problems I clawed myself out of a while back.

As soon as he spots me, Jake’s eyes lighten up with delight, and a broad smile stretches the lower half of his beautiful face. Mother’s still telling me about her new place as he approaches, but I can barely focus on her words, too tense for that.

“There you are,” Jake greets me, having not noticed Vivienne because of the high armchair—just like me earlier. “I’m so sorry, red. The traffic was a fucking mess.”

It’s Mother’s turn to tense as Jake bends down to give me a soft peck that I distractedly grant. “God, I can’t get over how sexy you look so full of my child like this,” he appreciatively lets out with a cocky smirk.

My face instantly warms up, my cheeks flushing. “Jake, uh … look at who I ran into,” I embarrassedly say before he makes it even more awkward.

His eyebrows twitch as he turns to the woman facing us, and the contented expression on his face immediately falls into a frown.

“Good afternoon, Jacob,” Mother greets him.

“The fuck is she doing here?” he mutters for me, still glaring at her.

“She was shopping here as well, and we ran into each other. We were catching up.” I lay a gentle hand on his leather-clad arm, compelling his gaze to meet mine. When he does, I give him a small smile and a nod. “It’s fine, my love. I promise.”

As always, the endearment works on him like a charm, and I sense the muscles under my hand loosen. When he turns back to her, though, there’s still some resentment, so I decide it’s better to put an end to this before it gets ruined by either of them.

I grab my handbag and my jacket, offering Vivienne a contrite smile. “I have to go—we have a lot to do.”

“Yes, of course.”

Jake lands me a solid hand to help me up and grabs the shopping bag I have with me.

“It was good seeing you, Genny,” Vivienne says, standing up as well. My childhood nickname feels odd coming from her, but the smile she gives me looks genuine. “Congratulations to the both of you for the baby.”

“Thank you. I’ll—I’ll let you know once she’s born.”

There, that’s my Christmas gift to her. A show of trust. It doesn’t mean we’ll welcome her back into our lives, but it means I’m willing to work on it.

I tense again when she turns toward Jake. “Jacob, thank you for taking such good care of my daughter. She looks the happiest she ever has.”

“Crazy how someone can bloom once they’re pulled out of a toxic environment, isn’t it?” His bitterness is understandable, but I elbow his side to silently ask him not to steer the pot.

Mother doesn’t bite, though, and remembers something instead. “Oh, I almost forgot. I got you this for when the baby arrives,” she explains, picking up a small bag I didn’t see on the side of her armchair.

“Thank you, “I say as I take it from her.

“You’re welcome. I would love to meet my granddaughter when the time comes, but I understand if it’s too soon. Let me know if you ever feel ready to let me in again.”

Jake wraps a protective arm around me, pulling me closer to him for support. “I will,” I reply.

Then, my husband encourages me to move on with a gentle push in my back.

“Merry Christmas,” Vivienne says as we walk away.

I don’t return it but give her a smile and a nod instead.

“What the fuck was that?” Jake asks once we’re out.

“I’m not sure …”

Curious, I reach into the bag Mother gave me and retrieve a small children’s book from it. The title doesn’t leave room to question why she picked this one.

“Somewhere in Australia,” Jake reads aloud, frowning at the book.

Touched by the gesture and acceptance within it, I turn around to gaze at Vivienne, who’s busy gathering her things.

“I think,” I carefully start, “that we just witnessed a Christmas miracle.”

It’s his turn to look back, looking as disoriented as I do.

In my heart, I know this isn’t some scheme to sneak back into my life and ruin it. My mother had an epiphany and turned her life around for the best. And even though I stopped needing her approval the day I left her in NexaCorp’s coffee shop, I feel lighter now. Knowing that she approves of this baby and Jake does something to the inner child inside me.

More than ever, I’m ready to become a mom. And maybe little Avie will have a grandmother in her life after all.

A little note

Merry Christmas, everyone!

I just want to express my deepest thank you for all of you who made this year such an amazing experience! Up the Ladder had amazing numbers for a debut, and I couldn’t have done it without you!

This little chapter is a small way of thanking you for it. And just in case there’s a doubt about it, I didn’t write it because Vivienne deserved a redemption arc, but because Gen deserved a better mother. And I know there wasn’t much of Jake in here, but don’t worry. You’ll get more of him in the Up the Ladder sequels 😉

(Holiday) Cheers to all!

Ana