Stand In For My Sister As Mrs. Weston Chapter 11
Darla didn’t give up after one failure.
She just switched tactics. This time, she picked on me right in front of the kids.
That night, I made lemon butter fish.
It was Bethany’s signature dish, Raymond and the kids’ favorite.
I’d asked a hotel chef to teach me personally, and I’d practiced for days.
The fish came out golden and crisp on the outside, tender and flaky within, swimming in a rich lemon butter sauce that filled the entire house with its scent.
The kids let out little gasps, amazed.
But after a single bite, Darla frowned.
“The sauce is off.”
She set down her fork with a clink, disdain written plain across her face.
“Too much lemon. It completely overpowers the fish. And the fish itself is overcooked.
“Beth, this doesn’t come close to what you used to make.”
She raised her voice just enough for everyone to hear.
The atmosphere around the table went cold.
The kids looked at me, then at her, and set their forks down one by one.
I was about to respond when Trevor beat me to it.
He looked at Darla, his expression earnest.
“Grandma, I think Mom’s cooking is better now.
“And it’s not just the cooking. She’s taught me so much. Because of her, I finally understand what it means to be honest. To be brave.”
Jessie echoed, “He’s right! I love the way Mom is now. She draws with me, tells me stories, and teaches me how to stand up to the bullies at school.”
Jimmie, mouth still stuffed with fish, mumbled, “Mommy’s the best. She makes the best fish in the whole world.”
For the first time, all three kids stepped up to defend me on their own.
Their words, childish but unwavering, formed the strongest shield I had ever had.
Darla was stunned into silence.
She’d probably never imagined that her grandchildren, the ones she doted on, would openly defy her for me, an impostor.
A warmth I had never felt before rose in my chest.
Like winter’s warmest sun, it burned away every shadow, every hurt, all at once.
Everything I had given, everything I had fought for — it was all worth it right here in this moment.
I could feel the balance in the Weston family tipping toward me already.
But I didn’t know the worst was yet to come.
Jodi had paid off a janitor at the hospital.
She’d gotten her hands on a piece of key evidence, a single strand of Bethany’s hair, fallen onto her pillow during chemo.
A far deadlier storm aiming at me was heading my way.
The DNA test was about to begin.
