After dinner, but before dessert, Breanne helped Pascale clear the table, and then, without being asked, filled the sink with sudsy water to wash the dishes. Silently, the older woman drew out a towel and prepared to dry them.
“We need to talk, Madame Brassard,” Breanne said, for the first time letting her future mother-in-law see the steely determined side of her, which had allowed her to get her Ph.D. before she was even thirty years old. At the same time, she carefully washed butter and herbs from a plate and handed it to her.
“Yes, we do.” Pascale agreed.
“Why do you dislike me so much?”
“You know why.”
“Yes. But is that really fair?” Breanne demanded.
“Life isn't fair.” The older woman dismissed the observation with a flippant shrug.
“This isn't life,” Breanne pointed out. “Thi
