Ali looked out her window when she heard the tires on her gravel. She almost didn’t recognize the pearl-colored Cadillac as it crawled along the driveway until she recognized its driver, hidden behind giant dark glasses. Mama. And beside her sat Ali’s least favorite person, Cecile Dawson.

 

The two women got out of the car, mincing across the gravel path as if they were navigating the unpaved streets of a third-world country. Ali sighed and smoothed her hair before opening the back door to greet them. She was glad that she’d swept the back stairs that morning or there would have been no end of drama over the uncleanliness of her entryway.

 

“Cecile. Mama.” She nodded at each, mustering a bright smile. “What a surprise.”

 

“Ali, honey, you have got to do something about that godforsaken driveway. It’s a menace. No wonder no one wants to buy this place.” Claire glanced around her mother-in-law’s former home and frowned. “Where are the signs? And the lockbox?” She turned back to Ali, her lips pursed. “Didn’t you list with Peggy Swearengen like I told you to?”

 

“Well, I did, but the ranch is no longer for sale, Mama.”

 

The two women exchanged heavily mascaraed glances.

 

“Can I get you both some tea?”

 

Cecile grimaced in a way that Ali took as a yes, and Claire nodded curtly, clearly miffed about Peggy Swearengen’s lost listing opportunity.

 

Ali handed the two women their glasses and was pouring a drink for herself when her mother started. “Cecile and I decided to pay you a visit because we’re both quite concerned.”

 

Ali smiled. Says the mother who barely raised me. “Because I called off the wedding?” she asked innocently.

 

“Yes, that and—”

 

“Bobby is devastated,” Cecile interrupted. “Do you have any idea what this has done to him? Or how it will look to break off the engagement right before the campaign?”

 

“You’re just not acting like yourself, Ali,” Claire chastised. “I’m worried about you. I think perhaps your job is too stressful.” She and Cecile exchanged another glance.

 

“Mama, I assure you, I’m feeling just fine. My job is not at all stressful. And Bobby will be fine, too. People love him.”

 

“Let’s hope their devotion is a little stronger than yours,” Cecile snapped. “I’m so disappointed in you, Alaine. Never in a million years would I have expected this from you. The stress you’re putting on both families is so unfair. Think of your poor mother.” She patted Claire’s hand sympathetically.

 

Ali knew her mother was about as delicate as a barbed wire fence, and Cecile was made of even sturdier stuff. In typical Southern style they tiptoed daintily around the truth: they were pissed off that she’d shamed them in front of their peers by calling off the wedding, which they’d both hoped would be a major social event of the year. When a wedding that size was called off, there was almost always a scandal at the bottom of it. Ali had no doubt it was their reputation, not Bobby’s feelings or her own mental stability, that had driven the two out to her ranch for this intervention.

 

“Well,” she said. “I sure do appreciate your concern. Mama, I will happily pay Daddy back for the deposits.”

 

Two crimson spots bloomed high on Claire’s cheeks. “Alaine Helene! Don’t be vulgar!”

 

She’d done it now, bringing money into it. Both women rose in tandem to their feet, and two sets of pursed lips brushed past her cheek in the chilliest goodbye she’d ever experienced.

 

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Claire hissed, and Ali just smiled back at her. It was liberating to not cower at her mother’s feet for once. She would never make Claire happy by living her own life. There was no point in even trying. Cecile was already halfway to the car. Clearly just being at the ranch was so offensive to her that she couldn’t wait to leave it.

 

***

 

Ali’s phone chirped from the kitchen counter half an hour later and she checked to see if it was Alejandro. Cristina’s number appeared on the screen, and after the last few judgmental texts she’d received from Bobby and the surprise visit from the Mothers from Hell, she figured it was more of the same. There had been enough lectures for the day, she decided, and sent it to voicemail, silencing her phone as she did. She changed for her riding lesson and didn’t hear it ring several more times. Eventually she shoved it deep in her handbag and drove into town to meet her student.