Chapter 7: The Uninvited Arrival
By late afternoon, Sarah and Mark had reached a tentative plan. They would invite Clara over to their house—on neutral ground—for a quiet conversation, rather than going back to her place where she held the home-court advantage. Before they could make the call, however, the doorbell chimed.
Mark opened the door to find Clara standing on the porch. She wore a tailored beige trench coat over her maroon top, and her expression was a careful mask of polite composure. She held a small paper bag in her hand, the scent of fresh bakery bread wafting faintly from within.
"May I come in?" Clara asked, her voice uncharacteristically tentative.
Sarah stepped into the hallway behind Mark, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of her mother standing on their welcome mat. She exchanged a quick, meaningful glance with Mark before nodding slowly. "Of course, Mom. Come on in."
Clara stepped across the threshold, looking around the living room as if seeing it for the first time. She noticed the way Mark gently placed a hand on the small of Sarah’s back—not defensively, but supportively. She sat down on the sofa, placing the paper bag on the coffee table.
"I brought some pastries," Clara said, clearing her throat lightly. "From the bakery downtown. Not... not that I expect anyone to judge them."
May you like
The small attempt at self-deprecating humor hung awkwardly in the air. Sarah sat down opposite her mother, keeping her posture upright and calm. "Thank you, Mom," she said softly. "It's good of you to come over. But we need to talk about what happened yesterday."
Clara stiffened slightly, her shoulders rising as the familiar defensive instinct flared within her. "I simply stated an opinion, Sarah. People are far too sensitive these days."
