I should have left. Should have walked away. But my feet remained rooted to the spot.

“You know what would be a real Mother’s Day present?” Christine continued, her voice dripping with contempt. “When that old witch finally goes into a nursing home. Thatwould be cause for celebration.”

The gift bag slipped from my fingers. The teacup set shattered on the concrete. I barely noticed the sound, barely felt the pain as a shard cut my finger. That old witch.