“May I respectfully disagree, Helene?” Joseph said from beside her. “I thought she looked beautiful in it.”
Another flustered expression passed over her mother’s face. “You did? But then you must admit, men don’t know much about fashion.” She gave him a condescending smile. “I bet you’d probably think Christie would look fabulous in a paper bag.”
“She would.” The smile that curved his mouth was pure wolf. “Though I prefer her in nothing at all.”
Christie felt herself blushing, alternating between embarrassment at Joseph’s frankness and pleasure at Helene’s shock. Her mother was never put off-balance or caught by surprise, and boy was Christie going to enjoy the moment.
It didn’t last of, course. Because Helene always had to have the last word.
Sure enough, she gave them both a fixed smile then said to Joseph, “You must let me introduce you to my husband, and Andrew, my son.” She made a beckoning motion and Christie realized that her father and brother had been hovering in the background for a while now, like courtiers waiting for the queen’s summons.
Helene began taking charge of the introductions while her father and Andrew fawned all over Joseph.
“Well, Christie, you never told me he was the Joseph Ashton,” Helene said as her father beamed, shaking Joseph’s hand. “How ever did you meet him? I didn’t think you moved in quite the same circles.”
Joseph answered before Christie could open her mouth. “She interviewed me for her magazine. And she was so articulate, so interesting, I couldn’t resist looking her up after the interview.” He raised his eyebrows at the rest of her family. “Do you know how talented this woman is?”
Mark, Christie’s father, gave him a faint disbelieving smile. “Talented?”
Joseph nodded slowly, as if to a child. “Yes. Extremely. Have you read any of her writing?” He didn’t wait for a response. “But of course you would have. She’s your daughter. You must be so proud of her.”
Helene blinked. “Naturally we’re proud of her. Aren’t we, Mark? Terribly, terribly proud.”
Oh yes. Proud. Sure they were.
It was so fake. Such a lie. They weren’t proud. They’d never been proud.
A sense of calm descended on Christie.
She’d been listening to this sort of stuff all her life. Always there was something wrong with her. Always something that didn’t quite meet the required expectations. Either with her appearance or her job or her choice of boyfriend or any one of a thousand other tiny things.
And she’d let them get away with it. Let them steadily undermine her confidence until there was nothing left. Armoring herself in her heavy-metal T-shirts and her steel-capped boots, pretending that she didn’t care.
All because deep down she was afraid that her family was right.
Well, she wasn’t afraid any longer. There wasn’t anything wrong with her. Hadn’t Joseph shown her that? He’d told her she was perfect. And now it was time to believe him.
“Stop it, Mum,” Christie said quietly, for the first time in her life the words coming out the way they were supposed to, not tangled up and stuttering.
Helene’s green eyes flicked back up to meet her daughter’s. “Stop? Stop what, darling?”
“Stop criticizing me.”
Her mother gave a laugh. “Criticizing you? Darling, I’m not—”
“Yes, you are. That’s all you’ve been doing my whole life.”
Silence.
“Now steady on, Chris.” Her father frowned at her. “I don’t think that’s quite right.”
Christie regarded her father, the calm spreading into a quiet strength she hadn’t known she possessed until this moment. “Isn’t it, Dad? Can you name even one of the articles I’ve written lately?”
“Well…I…of course…it’s…” her father muttered.
“Oh come on, Chris,” Andrew said, sounding bored. “You know no one’s interested in that computer stuff.”
“No, I know. None of you are.”
Helene touched her hair in a nervous-looking gesture. “What nonsense, darling. Anyway, you know me. I just like to point out a few things that you could improve on.”
Beside her, Christie could sense Joseph’s restlessness like static on her skin. He wanted to say something, she knew, but this wasn’t his fight. It was hers. She squeezed his hand. Hard. Then said to her family in the same level tone, “I don’t need improving.”
“Everyone needs—”
“No, Mum. I don’t.”
Helene’s jaw looked tight. “I’m just trying to help you, Christie.”