Everything to Gain by Barbara Taylor Bradford

mouth, then snapped it shut instantly. She was the most exasperating woman had ever met, and once again I felt that old, familiar rush of sympathy for my father.
    In her own insidious and very clever way, she had somehow managed to twist everything, had made it sound as if I had been the one itching for a fight. But experience had taught me there was nothing to be gained by taking issue with her or trying to present my point of view. Silence or acquiescence were the only viable weapons that could defeat her.
    I walked over to the refrigerator and brought out the other ingredients for the potato salad, all of which I had prepared at six o'clock this morning, long before her arrival. There were glass bowls of hard-boiled eggs, chopped celery, chopped cornichons, and chopped onions; these I placed on a large wooden tray, along with the salt and pepper mills and a jar of mayonnaise.
    Carrying the laden tray over to the old-fashioned kitchen table, I placed it in the middle and got another chopping board and knife before taking the chair opposite her. I began to methodically chop an egg, avoiding her eyes. I was seething inside.
    We worked in silence for a while, and then my mother stopped slicing a large potato, put the knife down, and leaned back in her chair. She sat gazing at me, studying me carefully.
    So intense was her stare, so acute her scrutiny, I found myself reacting almost angrily. She had always had that effect on me; I felt like she was putting me under a microscope and dissecting me like a bug.
    I frowned. "What is it, Mother?" I demanded coldly. "Do I have dirt on my face or something?"
    She shook her head, exclaimed, "No, no, you don't." There was a little pause, then she went on, "I'm sorry, Mal, I was staring at you far too hard. I was examining your skin, actually, gauging the elasticity of it." She nodded quite vigorously, as if confirming something important to herself. "Dr. Malvem is right. Young skin does have a special kind of elasticity to it, a different kind of texture than older skin. Mmmm. Well, never mind. I can't get the elasticity back, I'm afraid, but I can get rid of the sag." As she spoke she began to pat herself under her chin with the back of her hand. "Dr. Malvem says a nip and a tuck will do it."
    "Mother! For God's sake! You don't need another face job. Honestly you don't. You look wonderful." I truly meant this. She was still a lovely-looking woman who defied her age. The face-lift she had had three years ago had helped, of course. But she was naturally well preserved. No one would have guessed that this slender, long-legged beauty with the pellucid hazel eyes, high cheekbones, and the most perfect complexion, wrinkle-less, in fact, was actually a woman approaching her sixty-second birthday. She appeared to be much younger, easily fifteen or sixteen years younger, in my opinion. One of the few things I admired about my mother was her youthfulness and the discipline she exercised in order to achieve it.
    "Thank you, Mal, for those kind words, but I do think I could use just a little tuck…" Her voice trailed off, and continuing to stare at me, she let out several small, sighs. There was an unfamiliar wistfulness about her at this moment, and it took me by surprise.
    "No, you don't need it," I murmured in a gentler voice, a rush of love for her filling me. She suddenly seemed so open and vulnerable that I felt a rare touch of sympathy for her.
    Another silence fell between us as we continued to observe each other; but we were really caught up in our own thoughts and drifted with them for a while.
    I was thinking of her, thinking that vain and foolish though she might be, she was not a bad person. Quite to the contrary, in fact. Intrinsically, my mother was a good woman, and she had done her level best to be a good mother. There were times when she had been hopeless at this, others when she was more successful. Admittedly, she had instilled in me some excellent values, which were important