Chapter Thirty-Seven: Insurrection
Throughout history, heroic battles have been fought which changed the course of humankind. These righteous campaigns have been waged just outside the walls of ancient castles, over barren tracts of farmland, and inside the corridors of hallowed government buildings. Tonight, the most epic battle to ever take place in the Fowler family, however, was apparently going to take place in a dining room.
The formal dining room, which was usually ignored in favor of the cozier breakfast nook off the kitchen, had been cleaned and organized within an inch of its life. The mahogany dining table, which had been in the family for nearly three hundred years, was lengthened with all three of its leaves and set with the rose and gold-patterned China usually reserved only for very special occasions. At normal capacity, the mammoth table could easily seat sixteen. Tonight, between family, friends, in-laws, and the bridal party, it would be pushed to accommodate over twenty squeezed in souls.
From the sideboard and China cabinet standing sentry along both open archways to the hand-carved table legs visible underneath the antebellum lace tablecloth, each surface gleamed to perfection. Every detail was seen to from the dusting of the crystal chandelier overhead to the printed place cards standing at attention in front of each plate. Delicate wine glasses and water goblets stood regally interspersed with steaming dishes of food—roasted beef tips, the creamiest of creamed potatoes, dishes of honey carrots, glistening tureens of buttery English peas, silver gravy boats brimming with savory brown gravy, and baskets of Aunt Cora's famous sour cream rolls—all circling a magnificent crystal vase filled with hand-cut red roses and bookended by matching antique silver candlesticks.
To an outsider, this would hardly seem the place for combat, but Emily knew better. Every feature in this room, no matter how innocuous to the casual observer, had been strategically set to complete a specific function and to ensure victory for one Evelyn Fowler. Unfortunately, she forgot to consider one very important variable.
The aunts.
"That's it, Emily. My time for being civil with your mother is over. As the youngsters say, that chick is going down," Aunt Dora said.
Emily, who had come back to the kitchen to get wine for the table, wasn't surprised to find her exit blocked by two senior citizens out for her mother's blood. She should have been, but she wasn't. It was the kind of day she was having, and, honestly, it was just the last thing she needed right now.
"Well?" Dora prodded. "Are you taking care of the situation or are we?"
Emily's eyebrows shot heavenward at this. "'Taking care of the situation'? What does that even mean? Aunt Dora, have you been watching The Godfather again?"
"That is prime cinema, young lady, and I— "Dora began, but the scowl Cora sent her sister shut that down. With a slow growl, the older woman spun away and started pacing the length of the kitchen, muttering to herself.
Waving this juvenile behavior off, Cora turned, gifting Emily with a placating smile. "Dora doesn't mean it like that, dear. She loves Evelyn just as if she were her own daughter."
"A little Visine in her wine glass ought to do the trick. Maybe a weekend spent tossing her cookies will teach her to mind her own business," Dora grumbled.
"Do I need to remind you we're pacifists, Dora?" Cora hissed, finally losing her cool. "We raised Evelyn. If we don't like how she turned out, we have no ones to blame but ourselves."
Dora came to a furious stop. "Oh, no. This isn't us. We never taught her to be this manipulative—to butt into people's lives because she thinks she knows what's best." She turned to look at Emily. "Are you fixing this or am I?"
"What exactly do you want me to do?"
"Beat her at her own game."
"You're asking me to manipulate my mother into not manipulating my sister's lives? Do you realize how hypocritical that is?"
"See? That's what I'm talking about. You know she's manipulating them. How can you just stand idly by as their sister and let this happen? Don't you care, Emily?"
"Of course I care, Aunt Dora. I've tried talking to her and Dad. I even tried talking to Harper. But none of them would listen."
As if Emily hadn't said a word, Dora continued. "And Amy? Did you see what she dressed her in?"
Cora scoffed at this. "You made that dress, might I remind you. What did you think was going to happen?"
Dora frowned. "I thought that boyfriend of hers might like it and it might bring them closer together. Men usually like to see their women dolled up. But he obviously didn't."
"That actually made me like him better. He liked Amy like she was. You know how hard that is to come by?" Cora asked and, suddenly, Emily was being faced down by the two old women again, their former animosity towards each other forgotten.
Ugh. Sisters, they'll turn on you in a heartbeat, Emily thought with a groan.
"Amy is obviously happy with that Sheldon fellow. But can your mother let it be? No, she's gotta drive them two apart just because they played a little hide the salami before they get married," Dora grumbled. "I need to remind that little missy what I caught her and your father doing more than once. When she first brought him home, it seemed like there wasn't a door you could open that you wouldn't find them—"
"I think we've got the picture," Cora hastened to interrupt.
"Yeah," Emily said with a grimace. "And we didn't need it. Yuck."
Dora restarted pacing. "I wasn't going to stick my nose in. I didn't say a word when Evelyn took over Flora's room like she owns the place, when she canceled the restaurant where we were going to have the rehearsal dinner and announced we were having it here or when she 'accidentally' canceled your Brit grandmother's hotel rooms so she and Wilbur would have to stay here."
"Willard, dear. His name is Willard," Cora corrected.
"Whatever. The point is I said nothing. I even kept my trap shut when I heard her giving Harper hell for fighting with her fiancé. The girl looked like she wanted to break it off, but Evelyn kept going on and on about how many guests were showing up and all the money she and your dad had already shelled out. Two seconds of guilt trip, and Harper is back to being a blushing bride. Did I say anything? No. After all, Harper's always been a bit flaky. She needs a firm hand. But now Evelyn's gone and messed with Amy. She's not going to stop until they're broken up. She'll find the chink in their armor and exploit it for all its worth." She turned to glare at her eldest great-niece. "And if you don't do something to stop it, you're just as bad as she is."
"How can I stop it when I don't know exactly what she's planning to do or say?"
"Figure it out."
Before Emily could respond, the target of their combined anger poked her head in the kitchen. "What is taking so long? Bring the wine and get out here, all of you. We're getting ready to eat. I sent Dooley after Sheldon and your father." And, just like that, she left.
"That is, unless Charles has already scared the poor boy off with his ridiculous test," Dora said.
"Sheldon'll do just fine. I asked Dooley to talk to him and make him feel comfortable," Emily said, grabbing two bottles of wine from the wine rack. She considered the night's activities a moment before grabbing two more. More wine was definitely better at this point.
"Yes, I'm sure Sheldon is fine. After all, Charles didn't scare off Bruce."
"More's the pity on that one," Dora grumbled.
Through the door, Evelyn called for the wine in a sharp, shrill voice. Dora flashed a little bottle of Visine before putting it in the front pocket of her pants. Then with a threatening "just see if I don't" kind of expression, she grabbed two of the bottles of wine from Emily and charged out of the kitchen.
Emily rolled her eyes and sank back against the counter. She turned to find her remaining aunt watching her expectantly. "Aunt Cora, what do you expect me to do? I don't exactly have experience in standing up to my mother in tough times. Do I need to remind you how it went when I brought Dooley home?"
"This isn't about you anymore, Emily. This is about your sisters. Both of them—no matter what Dora says—need your help. If they're going to make mistakes in their lives, it should be because they made the choices."
"I agree, but I still don't know what you expect me to do. I've tried talking to them. They didn't listen. Besides staging a sit-in at the wedding or kidnapping Amy and Sheldon to get them out of here, I'm all out of ideas."
"Emily, you are more powerful and more intelligent than you give yourself credit for. Your mother has your sisters apparently where she wants them, like pawns on a chess board. She's thought of everything. She knows we won't do anything to stop her. As angry as Dora is, she knows her hands are tied in this. But you, Evelyn didn't count on. You could make a difference."
Emily closed her eyes. If this were some kind of outside threat, she would have gone charging in within seconds, but this wasn't outside at all. This was her mother. The last time they'd gone head to head … Emily still shuddered at the fallout that had come from that. All these years later and it still stung.
Yet, this was her sisters. What wouldn't she do for them?
"I'll try, Aunt Cora. I'm not sure what I'll do, but I'll do something."
"Good, and I'll try to keep Dora in line." Cora took the other bottles of wine and headed into the dining room, leaving Emily to follow.
Emily arrived in the dining room in just enough time for her mother to give her the task of lighting the candles, which she did. The guests started taking their seats. Hoping her mother wouldn't notice what she'd done in addition to the assigned task, Emily hurried to take her own. Her first shot at insurrection might not be much, but it should be enough to encourage Dora to keep the Visine to herself.
Her father, Dooley, and Sheldon returned from the study. From the way her father couldn't seem to stop slapping the thin scientist on his back, it was obvious Sheldon had passed the big, "Are you good enough for my daughter?" test. There was also the fact that her father couldn't seem to stop grinning—That is until he caught sight of the glare his wife was sending him. At this, he quickly dropped his gaze and his grin.
The small flare of hope that Emily wasn't alone in her crusade against her mother's tyranny was extinguished at that. She sighed, watching as the three men went to take their spaces at the table right as Jason returned from his trip to the bathroom. Dad sat at the end, Dooley next to Emily, Jason next to Grandmother Fowler, and Sheldon next to Amy. Evelyn shot Emily a questioning look at this development. And so it begins. Emily immediately looked down at her hands, likewise unable to hold her mother's heated gaze and hating how much that demonstrated how like her father she was.
"Why's Evelyn giving you the evil eye?" Dooley whispered.
"I moved the place cards. Switched Sheldon so he would sit next to Amy and Jason would sit next to Grandmother Fowler."
"You're standing up to the giant?"
Emily steadfastly ignored his ridiculous nickname for her mother. He had been secretly calling her that ever since he met her. Emily also tried not to take offense at her husband's blatant surprise at her newfound gumption. Yes, she had made an art out of avoiding conflict where her mother was concerned. But if he couldn't believe that she could do this, how was she supposed to believe she could?
"Yes," she hissed. "Someone has to."
There was a long pause before Dooley leaned in again, his lips so close they brushed her ear, and said, "Be warned: The second you're done, I'm dragging you off some place to have my wicked way with you."
Emily closed her eyes, trying to ignore the pleasurable shiver currently running through her—he knows how the deep voice affects me!
"We might not even lock the door," he egged.
Yep, this is getting out of hand. Glaring at her husband, she said, "Not now. I'm taking on the giant here, remember? I'm gonna be crushed in about three seconds."
"Wanna borrow a slingshot, David?"
She frowned for a moment, confused, before his full meaning hit her. Then, she smiled. She couldn't help it. She was married to the best man in the world. He was also weird because what kind of man used flirtation to bolster his wife into taking on her mother? Still, as thankful as she was for his support, now was hardly the time to have the added issue of lust on the brain.
"I've got handcuffs, too," he added silkily. "Furry ones. I'm told they go good with slingshots."
OK. Now he's just being ridiculous. She laughed and patted him on the hand. "Down, boy. I got this."
"Never had a doubt." He sat back and waggled his eyebrows in return, the arrogant expression on his face telling her he knew she knew he knew he'd affected her. All those years of marriage and he could play her like a fiddle. The only thing that made her feel better about that was she knew she had just as much power over him.
Emily turned her attention to the goings-on around her, trying to clear her brain of any residual longing to pull her husband upstairs and have her way with him. It would certainly be nice to get her mind off her troubles for a little while. Maybe later … in the upstairs bathroom. It wouldn't be their first time in a bathroom. It wouldn't be their first time in that bathroom. She forced a halt to that kind of thought. Not now. Focus. Your sisters need you.
Harper, who was seated in between her fiancé and their mother, was in some kind of low, heated argument with Bruce, the kind that made Emily hope her work on one score might be done for her. Meanwhile, the groom-to-be's parents were bombarding her father, located at the other end of the table, with the kind of questions that made Emily wonder if the Fosters had recently received severe head injuries.
"Have you ever met the queen, Charles?" Mrs. Foster asked.
"Or the Beatles?" her husband added.
Emily shook her head in disdain and was turning away when she caught sight of her son moments from plunging his finger into the dish of potatoes to sneak a taste. His gaze caught hers however, however, and, upon receiving her condemning glower, he grinned, embarrassed, and hid his guilty hand beneath the table. Lily, seated next to her brother, had missed all of this as she was too busy apparently freaking out a groomsman by recounting the benefits of pathology and the astounding results of her recent autopsy on a squirrel. Emily wondered again if she shouldn't have made the children stay upstairs—especially considering her plans. But Lily and Michael had begged to be included, and Emily was already up to her eyeballs in family conflict as it was.
If I can figure out Mom's plan in time and actually have the guts see this through, that is, she mentally added.
Sheldon leaned down to whisper in Amy's ear, but she waved him off in favor of talking to their mother—something that only seemed to frustrate him while making Evelyn all the more delighted. If Emily hadn't seen it for herself, she wouldn't have believed it. What had happened to Amy? What could their mother have said to her to make her act this way? First, making her dress in that deplorably un-Amy-like way and now this?
Down the way, Grandmother Fowler was scolding Willard, who had apparently managed to stain his tie. The second bridesmaid, seated on the other side of Jason, seemed to be doing her level best to flirt with him. In fact, if the poor woman leaned over any more, she'd be spilling out of her dress. Jason, in the interim, seemed to be ignoring this in favor of watching the growing dispute between the "happy couple." Emily swung her head back around just in time to see Bruce slip what looked to be an emerald bracelet onto Harper's wrist along with a kiss. Harper shared a brief look with their mother before turning her attention to her new gift. This, along with Bruce's superior smirk shared with one of the groomsmen, told Emily forgiveness wasn't long in coming.
And, just like that, any anxiety Emily had been battling disappeared—to be replaced with the anger she'd rarely known herself to be capable of. It was a righteous indignation she had no control over, a frustrated I-don't-give-a-shit kind of fury that usually drove one to doing things without thinking or caring about the consequences. The last time she'd felt this way, she'd managed to stave it off with logic, practicality, and a hefty dose of common sense.
This time, she didn't bother. After all, her mother might win tonight. She was a master at getting her way in situations such as these, and Emily still wasn't sure what the plan was. Yes, Evelyn might walk away with everything she wanted out of her youngest two daughters and every domino she'd already set in motion might fall in quick succession no matter what Emily did to try to stop it.
But that didn't mean Emily wasn't still going to try. She was going to do everything in her power to undermine her mother's antics. It might do no good. It might do more harm than good. It might even get her thrown out of the family for good. But to do nothing was the conceded defeat, and Emily wasn't doing that.
Not anymore.
"Why don't we get started?" Mom said, breaking off her conversation with Amy to take her feet. "I'm so glad to have you all here tonight. Charles and I couldn't be more pleased to be hosting this event." She paused to share a smile with her husband—one Emily couldn't help but notice her father wasn't really sharing—before reaching down to raise her wine glass high. "I'd like to take a moment to speak publically to the happy couple. I know toasts are usually reserved for the best man, maid of honor, or the father of the bride, but, as the mother of the bride, I can tell you no one will have better advice in this situation than I."
She said the last bit like it was quite the joke and laughed merrily. There was a low rumble as most of the table tittered along with her. Emily didn't bother to join in. Instead, she took an unladylike gulp of her wine and ignored the disapproving look her mother sent in her direction.
Evelyn continued. "As I've been married for well over forty years, I've learned a few things." She paused to look fondly at the soon-to-be married couple. Bruce took this moment to throw an arm around Harper, who smiled widely for the table. "The most important lesson is this: The true value of a good husband is measured not just in his ability to charm a room, the keenness of his wit, or how fine his eyes might be, it's—"
"His sizable bank account," Emily added, cheekily.
The room laughed—Aunt Dora cackled. Her mother's smile tightened as she good-naturedly tsked. "My eldest daughter," she said to her audience, "gets her humor from her father. No, my dear. The true value of a husband is measured in the respect and affection he shows his wife, not just on special occasions, but in everyday life. It is measured in how much a husband counts his wife as not just a helpmate and equal, but in a wiser council to him in his worst moments than he can be to himself, and in how much he counts her judgment and happiness in weight to his own." Her eyes zeroed in on Harper and Bruce. "I'm fortunate in that I will have the ability to see my daughter paired with such a man tomorrow."
She raised her glass. "To the happy couple!"
"To the happy couple!" the room chorused. Well, except for Sheldon, who was still frowning and watching Amy.
Emily downed her glass and grabbed a bottle to pour herself another. She had no intention of getting drunk tonight—not with what had happened with Amy at the last dinner as well as the fact that her children were here—but a little liquid courage wasn't uncalled for either.
"Emily," her mother hissed in warning.
Emily ignored this in favor of filling not only her glass, but Dooley's as well. Then, she returned the bottle to its original position, gifting her mother with a you-are-not-the-boss-of-me smirk. Evelyn countered this with an I'm-not-amused-young-lady glare before turning to smile at her guests.
After several more toasts were made—including one from Aunt Dora arranged into a nicely rhymed and slightly naughty limerick—and the food was served. Another serving of motherly manipulation followed.
"So, Sheldon," Evelyn began as she dolloped herself a portion of spinach and passed the container to Emily, "what are your plans for the future?"
Apparently taken aback by this, Sheldon shared a look with Amy before he replied. "How do you mean?"
"She wants to know what your plans are with Amy," Emily supplied, thinking she'd just about figured out where her mother was going with this.
Unfortunately, this quickly proved incorrect.
"Actually," Evelyn countered, "I was talking more about his career plans."
All eyes fell on Sheldon, who, without thought, said, "I plan to formulate major discoveries in the realm of physics which heighten man's understanding of the universe as well as his place within it, win the Nobel Prize, write books, give lectures, and have buildings and sundry pieces of architecture named after me once I'm dead."
"Now, that is a plan," Dooley said. "Go big or go home!"
"Yeah," Mr. Foster added. "I wish I had been as proactive about my career plans at your age."
Evelyn smiled. "Indeed. It seems advanced IQs and a love of science aren't all that Sheldon shares with my middle daughter. Likewise, Amy has big plans for the future of her career. Amy, why don't you tell us?"
Amy looked confused for a moment before she said, "I plan to advance science's understanding of the functionality of the brain, expanding the limits of that functionality whenever possible. I want to be one of the world's leading experts in understanding diseases like Parkinson's and Alzheimer's because if we know why and how those diseases attack the brain as well as how they operate, we can cure them."
"That's very impressive," Jason said. "My grandmother suffered from Alzheimer's for nearly a decade before she died. It took away so much not only from her, but also our family. To give of your talents in a way that will make it so no one else has to suffer in that way, Amy, you're my hero."
Amy looked taken aback at this. "Really?"
"Really," Jason said, looking at her long and ardently.
"Well," Amy said with a blush, "it isn't just me. There are teams of people doing this all over the world."
"Don't be modest, dear," Evelyn said. "You're doing important work. You should be proud of that. And, what's more, you're not doing it for accolades and recognition, you're doing it to make people's lives better. I couldn't be prouder."
Amy stared at her mother at her mother. "Really?"
Evelyn smiled and gave a slow nod. "Really."
Amy smile widened at this. Next to her, Sheldon frowned and stared down at his plate, bumping his carrots into even piles with his fork.
In that moment, Emily knew exactly how Evelyn had been able to convince Amy to wear that dress, and, moreover, how her mother was planning to bring about the end of Sheldon and Amy's relationship. And, honestly, she'd never been more afraid in her life.
Where is that Visine when you need it?