My joke about Martha Stewart puts a stop to Mitch’s casual search for insider information. Normally, I’d continue with the easy-going banter so that Mitch would start to feel more comfortable with me. But today, I don’t have the energy.

Luckily, Margie changes the subject.

“So, Ellie, how’s your writing going?”

The expression on Ellie’s face changes immediately.

“Um, fine,” she mumbles and takes a few sips of wine. “Well, actually, really well. The readers are really responding well to my work.”

“Now that’s really exciting,” Margie says.

“Yes, it’s really refreshing.”

“How so?” Mitch asks.

“Well, you know when I worked at Buzz Post, no one really cared about those stupid little quizzes that I wrote. I mean, people liked them, they brought in all the clicks, but no one reached out to me like they do now.”

“Readers are loving her book,” I pipe in. Finally, I can contribute something positive to the conversation and avoid talking about work, my own rather sad state of affairs. “You should see all the emails that she’s getting.”

Ellie smiles from ear to ear. “I never knew that I could have such an impact. Or that anyone would be affected enough to actually reach out to me. I mean, I myself, have read and enjoyed a lot of books, but I never really wrote the author and told them how I felt.”

“Yes, I had no idea that anyone really did that,” Margie says.

“Well, they do,” Ellie says beaming. “At least my fans do. And it’s amazing. I mean, writing can be quite solitary work, so it’s nice to get real feedback. And not just feedback, really good, kind words. My writing is actually helping some of my readers get through some very hard times in their lives. Providing an escape, you know?”

“Is that so?” Margie asks.

Ellie nods and gives me a smile. Despite everything that’s going on with my own career, I’m really proud of her. Her dreams are finally coming true and it’s a privilege to be here to experience it with her.

“I’m really happy for you,” I say.

“Aiden has been very supportive,” Ellie explains as if an explanation is necessary. But by the look on Margie’s face, apparently, it is.

“Aren’t you proud of your daughter?” I ask. “I know I am.”

“Yes, of course,” Margie says with not much enthusiasm. “But you know, of course, Mitch and I hope that she starts to write something more serious in the future.”

“More serious?” I ask, glancing over at Ellie. The smile on her face vanishes in an instant.

“Well, you know. Romance?” Margie says with a smirk. “And self-publishing?”

“I don’t understand,” Ellie whispers.

“Oh c’mon, Ellie, please” Margie scoffs at her. “You know that you are capable of so much more than self-publishing so-called romance.”

“Your daughter is very talented,” I interrupt. I can’t stand listening to this shit, but Ellie puts her hand on my knee under the table to calm me down.

“Yes, I know that. That’s why I’m saying what I’m saying. We all know that she is very talented and this line of work just isn’t suitable for someone like her. I mean, you went to Yale for crying out loud. You were on your way to becoming a serious journalist.”

“I was not,” Ellie says. “I was writing stupid little quizzes at some online magazine that gets advertising money through click bait articles.”

“They do publish serious news as well.”

“So what? That wasn’t my job. Besides, I never wanted to be a journalist. I always wanted to write fiction.”

“And you’re happy writing what you’re writing?”

“And what am I writing, mother?” Ellie asks, crossing her arms across her chest.

“You know very well. But if you want me to come out and say it, then I guess I will.”

“Why don’t you?” she asks, squeezing my knee ever harder.

“Porn. You write porn, my darling,” Margie says. “You and I know this very well. And so does anyone else who comes across your books.”

“No, I don’t write porn, mother. I write romance books with sex in them. I write romance the way it exists in the world. It doesn’t just all fade to black you know, when people go to bed. I describe what happens between people because what happens in bed is important. And sexy. And relevant. My book has a sexually-empowered main character and I won’t apologize for creating her. Not to you. And not to anyone else.”

“You’re impossible,” Margie whispers, shaking her head. “Mitch talk to her.”

“Margie, I think it’s fine for Ellie to do what she wants to do. She seems to be enjoying her work, so why not?”

“Oh, c’mon, Mitch. Please. Give me a break. You think what she writes is smut and you told me so yourself. So, why the fuck are you giving us this cop out now?”

“Well, my darling,” Mitch says. I’m starting to notice that their use of terms of endearment aren’t exactly the same as other people’s. “Because we have company here and perhaps this isn’t the best time to talk about Ellie’s career choices.”

Margie shakes her head.

“Listen, mom, I’m going to make this really easy on you. We don’t have to talk about this anymore. Aiden and I are going to go.”

“What? No.”

“Yes,” Ellie says and gets up to leave.

“But we haven’t had dessert yet.”

“We’re going to pass.”

“Aiden,” Margie reaches out to me. She puts her long cold fingers on my forearm, but I just brush her off.

“Your daughter is a very talented writer and I’m sorry for you that you don’t understand that,” I say. “Thank you for dinner.”

“Ellie, I don’t understand why you’re getting so mad. I was just expressing my opinion.”

“Well, your opinion…sucks. It really sucks, Mom. I don’t know what I’m going to do in the future. I don’t know what kind of books I’m going to write. But for right now, I’m really enjoying doing what I’m doing. I love the emails that I’m getting from my readers and when I shared that with you, you just pissed all over it. Why? Does it make you feel better to put me down?”

“I didn’t mean to put you down. I just wanted you to know that you are capable of so much more.”

It’s hard to put into words the rage and hatred I feel for Margie at this very moment. I hate her passive aggressive bullshit and her backhanded compliment that’s not a compliment at all. And most of all, I hate the pain that she is causing Ellie.

I’m about to say something, when Ellie breaks out in laughter. Then she shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “Fuck you, Mom. Okay? How about that? Why don’t you just go fuck yourself?”

She takes me by the arm and pulls me toward the front door.