Author's Note: I apologize for the delay and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Oh, and read and review!

Disclaimer: Do I look like I own FOP? Get real, folks.

Chapter Fourteen: Reinterpretation

It's the first time she's openly opposing her father and she's fully aware of it. Even more so than Timmy, her father appears to loathe her mother, although his actions towards her, if examined, would certainly baffle anyone. However, Trixie isn't given to extensive psychoanalysis, at least, not that the moment, and she lets the subject drop. Perhaps, at a later date, when her father's under more pressure, she'll bring it up again and see what slips.

Yes, she knows she's a brat, but now she's a brat with a plan. The dinner with Timmy is tonight and she might be putting it in jeopardy, but there are more important things than boyfriends right now, and that's family. The irony strikes her and she smirks, mentally adding that to the list of things to grill her father about later. With every passing second, that list grows.

However, something is rotten in the city of Dimmsdale and, before she meets her mother, she wants to find out what led to her exile in the first place. Sure, she might not have a lot of time, but everyone who's anyone knows better than to screw around with Trixie Tang and expect to survive unharmed. In fact, that reminds her of Tootie, another addend to check on later.

Hmm…but where to start? Well, the obvious place is with her grandparents, and, if she can hack it, her mother's parents as well. She isn't sure they're still in town and, if they are, why would they permit their daughter to leave?

The web grows ever more twisted and she wonders if she'll ever unravel it all. At the center of it are her mother and father, but the amount of information she can receive from either of them is limited, given their circumstances. After all, up until recently, she hasn't heard her mother's voice, much less know why she didn't live with them.

When she was younger, she used to ask her father, as little girls are wont to, where her mother was. Every time she did, her father's expression contorted, becoming extremely taut. Pain etched the lines in his face and her questions, intense to begin with, reached a fever pitch. She wanted to know why her father didn't have a wife and why she didn't have a mother. She wanted to know why he resented her grandparents so much. She wanted to know everything- and didn't she have a right to ask?

But whenever she got to that part, her father would shove her in the direction of the phone, instruct her to call Veronica, and get the heck out of his affairs. She giggled, not knowing what affairs meant but it sounded amusing to her. And, after a while, she'd forget what she'd started…but she'd always start up again.

Now, however, she's old enough to realize what's going on. And she won't be shoved aside and instructed to go off and play. She's too old for this nonsense and they both know it. Only, her father pretends he isn't.

Before she waltzes in, unannounced, at her grandparents' mansion on the outskirts of Dimmsdale, she thinks she'll have another talk with Dear Old Daddy. If he knows what's good for him, he'll tell her what she wants. Unfortunately, with her father, things seldom turn out the way she'd anticipated.

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She finds him in his office; his fingers idly typing out something business. Again, the irony strikes that she has utterly no idea what he does for a living, only that his money and his status give her great power. She's never been overly curious, she's glad to say, to find out what exactly he does for a living, nor will she ever be. If he sees fit to tell her, she'll listen (with a half an ear), but otherwise, she could care less.

He looks up when she barges in and his face pales, contorting like it had when she was younger. Surely, by the way his eyes dart around the room, avoiding hers, he can discern the topic of discourse. Cornered, like a mouse, he halts and waits for the inevitable.

Forcing a smile, he speaks through clipped tones. "Do you want some money? Another credit card?"

Anything simple that you won't have to think about? Bribe your way to my love?

Slamming her hand down on his mahogany table, she glowers at the ancient typewriter on his desk and directs her speech to it instead of him. If he's not going to look at her, two can play at that game. He's batted her around for long enough, it's time for retribution.

"Trixie, I'm very busy, so would you please state what it is you desire?" He mutters, growing colder innately. She smirks, recognizing this as him delegating her to an unimportant position as usual. However, even if this is her father, she will not permit him to ignore her.

Tempted to uncharacteristically blurt it out, she instead opts for the round about way. That way, if she annoys him enough, he might let something slip. Besides, being straightforward isn't exactly something she does easily. Her way is insidious, like a poison.

Glancing towards the letter, her jaw drops. Before her father rips the page out, his face accrues a hue not previously known to man. If she touched his face, she's sure she'd burn her hand.

It doesn't take much for her to realize what he's writing. But why? If he's stopped all contact, what good would a letter do?

And how can he still feel the same after all those years? How can he even feel that way at all, when he drove her out of his life? What the heck is going on here?

"Trixie Elizabeth Tang, how many times have I told you some things are of a personal nature-" Her father begins, tearing the letter to pieces.

"Like a love letter to my mother?" She counters and he flushes, wringing the bits of paper in his hands. Guilty as charged.

"I have no idea what you're talking about and I'll remind you that you do not have permission to enter my study," He replies coolly, while she can read the lies on his face. In his words, she hears not what he's saying, but what he's implying. He has every idea what she's talking about and he wants her out so he can write in peace.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about and why are you writing to someone you told me I was to have no contact with?" She snaps back, snatching a piece of the letter out of the pile of papers in his trash. Although it's too small to discern the entire sentence, the words "I love you" are on it. Check and mate.

"I believe this is no business of yours and isn't there a sale at Mandy's?" He shoots back, tearing the paper out of her hand and shredding it into pieces before her eyes.

"I already went and if you're writing love letters to her and it shows you still love her, why'd you shove her out of here in the first place?" She hisses, fists balled.

"That, like the letters, is none of your business. Now get out of here before I cut off one of your credit cards," He retorts, getting up from his comfy orange padded chair and moving to shove her out of the door. She, however, remains in place. It'll take more than a strong will to get her to leave.

"Like you cut Mom out of your life?" Trixie counters, for the moment ignoring his threat. Besides, what does it matter? She has six other credit cards.

"I am not discussing this with you," He snaps through gritted teeth. "And if you persist on asking questions, I'll cut off your home phone."

She shrugs, apathetic. She has her cell phone. Does he really think he can threat her into submission?

"What did you do to my mother?" Trixie snaps, sick of toying around. She folds her arms across her non-existent chest and glowers at him.

Under his breath, he grumbles, "You're acting like I murdered her, stuffed her in a body bag, and tossed her into the river."

Trembling in anger, she shoots back, unwittingly, "Did you?"

Damn, now she's done. She'd told herself she wouldn't be forthright and she'd worm the truth out of him, only that's exactly the opposite of what she's just done. Although, truth be told, she doesn't regret it. Any information about her mother is well welcome.

He slumps back into his chair and mouths her mother's name. From the portrait, she can easily envision him seeing her mother through her. Nevertheless, from her standpoint, this she can mold. Reap the benefits of the past.

Softer, as though she's lost all the anger reserved for him, she whispers, "What happened to Patricia?"

Her father knows her as Patricia so that's what she'll call her. In fact, she sincerely doubts anyone has ever referred to her as Trixie's mother, except for those two weeks in which she had everything. How could the only two perfect weeks of her life be her first two? What divine justice was that? What had she done in a past life to merit it?

"You were a bastard…and the fact that the elite Montgomerys had a daughter associating with what they called a, well, you know the derogative term for the Chinese, especially someone like me. Even though we were both rich families, they didn't have to work to become millionaires whereas the Tang family had to strive to first live here, and, after several generations, grow as rich as to live here. They turned their noses down at Patricia's indiscretion and told her unless she aborted the baby, they'd exile her.

"She refused…she said she'd sooner die than let them kill her baby…and they said that could be arranged."

Continuing in a monotone, Mr. Tang gazes not at Trixie but past her, as though seeing into the past. Her grandparents' actions make her shudder, although now she wonders why he placed the blame square on his parents. Unless there's more…

"We agreed she could hide out here and have the baby. We wanted to get married, but her mother, seventeen, could not receive parental permission. Flat out, her parents told me it was either abort the baby, abandon me forever, or get the hell out of Dimmsdale…and never return. The stigma of a seventeen year old girl pregnant would be bad enough for any family, but for one prominent, they couldn't stand it.

"If the baby were aborted, they could cover up its existence, if she never associated with me again. They thought this was puppy love, but she was ready to die for me…and I for her.

"I hid her in this house and, for nine months and two weeks, everything was all right. I smuggled her in and made it look like she'd left the city. We lived together in secrecy but happiness…and, although we were never formerly married, we'd already spiritually married long ago.

"However, like everything good, this came to an end. Two weeks after your birth, her parents discovered her existence and my parents were furious. They too had disapproved of my relationship with her, but for a different reason.

"In their minds, my dating an American woman was a disaster, much less getting her pregnant and living in sin with our child. Some Chinese have the prejudice that interracial couples are heinous and my parents shared this. They'd reacted badly when I'd brought her home and the fact that I'd smuggled her in their house drove them mad.

"So they did what they thought best- they teamed up with her parents and forced her into exile. Since Patricia's parents wanted nothing to do with our child, they left her onto me. After the scandal, they vanished from the public eye and it's rumored they're at the resting home."

Taking a deep breath, he gazes again past her and she shudders. So it's not her father's fault…or is it? What's going on?

"My father, always sickly, suffered a heart attack upon realizing the magnitude of what had happened and my mother followed soon after. They left the mansion to me under the stipulation that if I contacted Patricia, I'd lose everything. I was to be happy with what I'd done and that was it…"

Here, he trails off and she senses he's lost in the past, completely mired in it. It doesn't matter much anyway…he's given her enough food for thought for a while.