Having more people occupying the Tremont Estate did not turn the spacious house more vivacious. Instead, it seemed to have sucked out all of the life in the area.
Tiffany, who was firmly on Tanya’s side, did not attempt to hide her animosity toward Vicky. Throw Jackson’s presence into the mix, and it was as though dangerous undercurrents were charging through the air.
Vicky was not the least perturbed. Instead, she freely dove into the men’s group and chatted away, making herself look like the sun while the others were orbiting planets.
A woman who acted as though she knew everyone, strangers and friends alike, would always draw ire from some people, but Vicky became particularly egregious when she kept ordering Mary, who was taking care of Aristotle, around like she was the mistress of the house. “Excuse me, Mary, but could you please make me a glass of juice or something? I don’t like tea.”
Mary tolerated her only because she respected Eric. “My hands are tied with the baby, dear. There are people in the kitchen you could ask for help, in fact, you could always make one yourself. The tools are there, and the fruits are in the fridge. You can pick whatever you like.”
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