The Sins of the Mother by Danielle Steel Page B

every year. The girls had a great time, and Sophie and her grandmother were soul mates, just as Liz and her own grandmother were, but each year, after the summer vacation Liz swore she would never go again. It was just too stressful for her, to compare herself to them, and endure their casual comments and put-downs and supposedly helpful criticism about her life. No one could understand what she was doing with herself, and her time, particularly now that the girls were gone. It was impossible to explain to them that some days it took her all day to get out of bed.
    The only person who had ever understood the extreme insecurity she felt was Granibelle, whom Liz went to visit on Long Island every week. Just as she had been for Phillip, her grandmother had been the real mother in her life. Olivia was more like a friend. She was always kind to her, and compassionate, but Liz was convinced that they were just too different to ever understand each other. Granibelle always told Liz to give her mother a chance, that she regretted the time she hadn’t spent with them when they were children, but Liz was sure now it was too late. And the birthday trip reinforced that impression every year. She spent two weeks with them in gorgeous locations, feeling like a freak, and in agony in their midst. And now the invitation was sitting on her computer, and Liz didn’t have the guts to open it. She sat and stared at it for a long time, and then finally clicked it open and looked at the photographs of the enormous yacht.
    “Shit,” Liz said out loud, sitting in her kitchen. “Now what am I supposed to do?” She felt seasick just looking at the photographs of the gigantic boat. She read the description of everything it had to offer, and even that didn’t help. If her family was going to be on it, she knew she would feel miserable and inadequate, seasick or not. But she knew with equal certainty that both her daughters would love spending those days with the family on a fabulous boat. Hair salon, spa, movie theater, water toys—her mother had gone all out. Liz knew she couldn’t deprive her daughters of a trip like the one her mother had planned. And she didn’t want to miss being with her girls. She got little enough time with them now, and they were busy with their friends most of the time. As she did every year, Liz felt she had no choice. If she wanted to see her children and share a holiday with them, she’d have to put up with everyone else. It was a depressing thought.
    She read through the e-mail several times, with the description of the boat, and forwarded it to both her daughters. And then she hit the reply button with a heavy heart.
    “Thanks, Mom!” she typed the message to her mother. “This looks incredible! We’ll be there with bells on. The girls are going to be thrilled! Love, Liz.” She read it over several times, and then hit the send button. Her fate was sealed. All she could think was “here we go again.” She had nothing to wear, but she knew she could borrow something from her girls. She still had the same lithe body she had had at their age. Her face looked older, but her body hadn’t changed.
    After she responded to her mother’s invitation, she picked up a notepad and walked out into her garden. There were two broken deck chairs with torn cushions on them, and if she sat down on them carefully, she knew they would hold her. She had a silly idea for a children’s book. It wasn’t the kind of writing she usually did, but maybe it would distract her and cheer her up. She had nothing else to do, and she wasn’t going to write the great American novel in the next six weeks, so she might as well write something fun, for herself. No one in her family was going to be impressed by a children’s book, but that didn’t matter now. She was resigned to being the family screw-up who had accomplished nothing, yet again.
    Sarah Grayson raced into the house between classes, to pick up some additional books she had