“You want to know why I did what I did?” she said slowly. Fine, I’ll tell you. But you’re not going to like it. I’m not looking for something I like. I’m looking for the truth. Diane smiled again. That cold, calculating smile that Margaret was beginning to realize she’d never really seen before. Not clearly, not for what it was. The truth, Diane said. All right, Maggie. Let me tell you the truth. She started with their childhood, the house in Grover’s Mill, the family they’d grown up in.
You were always mama’s favorite, Diane said. Did you know that? Of course you did. Everyone knew it. Perfect. Margaret, responsible Margaret. Margaret who got straight A’s and never broke the rules and always did exactly what she was supposed to do. That’s not Don’t interrupt me. You wanted the truth. Here it is. Margaret fell silent. Mama loved you, Diane continued. really loved you the way a mother is supposed to love a daughter. But me, I was the problem child, the difficult one, the one who was always getting into trouble, always needing to be bailed out, always disappointing everyone.
Mama loved you, too, Diane. She loved both of us. No, she didn’t. Diane’s voice was flat, certain she tolerated me. She was embarrassed by me. And when she died, she made sure everyone knew exactly where I stood in this family. What are you talking about? The inheritance, Maggie, don’t pretend you don’t remember. Margaret shook her head. You got the life insurance money. I got the house. That’s what mama wanted. That’s what mama wanted. Diane repeated the words like they were poison.
Do you have any idea how much the life insurance was worth? I I don’t know. 40,000? 50? Diane laughed. That dry, bitter laugh again. $23,000, Maggie. That’s what I got. $23,000 and you got a house worth $200,000 plus 3 acres of land plus everything inside it. Mama’s china, grandma’s jewelry, daddy’s tools, everything. Margaret felt something cold settle in her stomach. She’d never thought about it that way. Never done the math. I didn’t know,” she said quietly. “I didn’t realize.” Of course you didn’t, because you never had to.
You were the favorite. You got everything handed to you and I got the scraps. That’s not fair, Diane. I didn’t ask for the house. I didn’t ask for any of it. But you took it, didn’t you? You took it. And you never once thought about whether it was right, whether maybe your sister deserved something more than $23,000 and a pat on the head. Margaret didn’t know what to say. She stood there frozen, watching her sister’s face twist with decades of resentment.
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