I looked from Elvira to the Trailer Trash Trio to see Jez still looked indifferent. Mom was studying Elvira closely. But, surprising me, Aunt Lulamae looked pale and uncertain.

Elvira spoke again and when I looked back at her, I saw her eyes were on Mitch.

“I know the boys are fired up to take that guy down but that stupid cracker’s makin’ this play just to f**k with you, he needs a wakeup call.” Her eyes honed in on Mitch and she finished, “And you know it.”

“We’ll tell him to add the Witness Protection Program to the deal,” Mom said and everyone looked at her.

“You can tell him that but Winchell won’t get it,” Elvira replied. “He might have info but not enough to buy him that kinda deal.”

“You can’t know that,” Mom returned.

“Woman, you don’t know me but what I do, I know everything that’s goin’ down in Denver. I know that. I know a lot more. And I know, your boy don’t shut up, next time you see him, he’ll be in a coffin,” Elvira retorted.

Everyone was silent. Aunt Lulamae shifted. Mom glared at Elvira. Jez looked like, if she had a watch (which she didn’t), she’d check it.

Mitch finally spoke.

“I think you’ve been invited to leave.”

Mom transferred her glare to Mitch. Jez took a half step toward the door.

Aunt Lulamae looked at Mitch too and asked on a jerk of her head toward Elvira, “What she said, is it true?”

“Yes,” Mitch said flatly.

Aunt Lulamae looked at Mom. Mom continued to glare at Mitch.

And that was when I knew Mom was the mastermind (as it were) of all of this. This was not about Bill, Billy and Billie.

This was about her and me.

This was about her taking me down a notch.

Mitch was right again.

All my life, I had been in a competition with my mother. She wanted to take me down, hold me down, best me. She made nothing of her life and she wanted to make sure I didn’t make anything of mine because if I did, it would make her feel worse about the fact she’d thrown hers away.

And there I stood next to a good man, a handsome man, a solid, respectable man in a fabulously decorated apartment and across the breezeway were two children who adored me and a cadre of friends who had my back.

And she couldn’t stand it.

“Move on,” I whispered and I felt Mitch’s arm tighten and saw Mom’s eyes come to me.

“What?” she snapped.

“You don’t exist for me, not anymore. Not after this, not even before this but definitely not after. We’re done. I’ve moved on. Now you need to move on too,” I advised.

“Marabelle Hanover, don’t you stand there and tell your Momma what to do,” she kept snapping.

“Okay then, don’t move on. Your choice. But take your bitterness and regret for throwing away your life somewhere else. Don’t you see?” I lifted a hand and kept it up. “You can’t beat me.”

I dropped my hand and held her eyes.

Mom glared into mine and then hers went to Mitch.

“You’re a fool,” she stated, my body got tight and so did Mitch’s. “See she’s conned you with her fancy-ass clothes and her fancy-ass apartment into thinkin’ that she’s somethin’ she isn’t. You go home, ask anyone, they’ll tell you exactly who Marabelle Jolene Hanover is.”

“No,” Mitch replied, “they’ll tell me who Melbamae Hanover is and, one look at you, I know the woman you are and I know Mara is not that woman.”

“You go to Iowa, they’ll tell you,” Mom pushed.

“I already responded to that, not gonna do it again,” Mitch muttered then said straight out, “Now, I’ll remind you, you’ve been invited to leave.”

Mom gave up on Mitch and looked back at me.

“You can’t run away from who you are.”

“Wrong, Mom,” I replied. “I was never who you thought I was so I never had anything to run away from. But I did run away, not from who you thought I was but from you. I did it thirteen years ago. It’s done. I’m gone. I’ve been gone a long time. Move on.”

“He’ll see who you are, he’ll figure it out and he’ll leave you,” she told me.

“Jeez!” I cried. “I didn’t pick Mitch up at a Truck Stop, Mom, take him home and get him drunk on cheap whiskey. I’m not you and Mitch knew that before I did. You have no idea what you’re talking about. Now, for God’s sake, it’s late, I’m tired, my kids are tired and Bud’s freaked. I need to get them home, Bud calmed down and my family to sleep. So can you please just leave?”

“I –” Mom started but Mitch cut her off.

“Mara asked you to leave.”

Mom’s narrowed eyes went to Mitch.

“I’m gonna say what I –” she began again but Mitch cut her off again.

“Mara asked you to leave.”

Mom leaned in and her voice rose when she started, “I will say what –”

Mitch let me go and moved.

Luckily, Elvira moved before him. Hopping off the barstool onto her strappy, high-heeled sandals, she moved to the Trailer Trash Trio and she did it bossy.

“Right, conversation over. You chose wrong, now’s the time for attorneys,” she said, herding the Trailer Trash Trio closer to the door.

“We’re not done,” Mom snapped.

“You’re done,” Mitch replied, still advancing but doing it slowly.

“We’re not done!” Mom shouted and Elvira leaned around Jez and opened the door.

Jez exited immediately. She didn’t buy into this scene. Whatever they offered her wasn’t much, definitely not worth the headaches she had to know I was ready to create. I fancied the minute I lost sight of her she went up in a poof of smoke.

Aunt Lulamae grabbed Mom’s arm but Mom stood firm in the door, nose to nose with Elvira, Mitch now at Elvira’s back.

Mom opened her mouth to be nasty but Elvira beat her to it.

“Okay, woman, see you don’t get this but, the legal occupant of residence asks you to leave, you do not get a choice with that. They do it repeatedly, you do not comply with their request, things can get ugly. You’ve been repeatedly asked to leave by the tenant of this apartment and her partner who happens to be a police detective and you’ve been asked in front of a witness. You diggin’ in,” she shook her head, “not good. Now, you can walk out that door, make a stupid decision and call your lawyer or you can be led out that door in cuffs. I’m feelin’ hot guy, macho man, pissed off vibes at my back so my guess is, you got about five seconds. Think fast.”