The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 183

Penelope spent the morning at the office, had lunch with Mr. Johnson, and then checked on the wedding venue in the afternoon. By the time she got home, the sun was already setting.

As she approached her front door, the Sullivans’ door across the street creaked open, and Luna, the maid, called out to her.

“You have a visitor.”

Penelope froze for a second before realizing who it must be. She hurried across the street.

Just inside the Sullivans’ entryway were several large cloth sacks. She immediately recognized the contents: smoked chicken and duck, dried hawthorn, and preserved peaches—all her childhood favorites. But they were piled by the door like garbage, and some of the dried fruit had spilled onto the floor.

Her brow furrowed as she pushed the door open.

Just as she suspected, her adoptive father was there. He was wearing simple but clean clothes, his body thin and his hair streaked with gray. He sat stiffly on a small stool.

A stool.

Meanwhile, Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan were lounging on the sofa, one sipping tea and the other eating fruit, completely ignoring Mr. David Anderson.

“The kids have been together for years now,” Mrs. Sullivan was saying with a look of distaste. “Penelope has her flaws, and she often infuriates us, but if Zebulon didn’t marry her, who else would have her?”

“Penelope has always been a sensible girl,” Mr. Anderson said quietly after a long pause.

“She slapped me just yesterday. Real sensible, isn’t she?”

He fell silent.

“Fine, we’re the elders, we won’t stoop to her level. But you need to talk to her. A daughter-in-law is supposed to respect her in-laws and support her husband. Isn’t that how it should be? But look at her, strutting around all day as if she wants to crush us all under her heel.”

“Our Penelope is a reasonable child.”

“Oh, so now you’re getting defensive?”

“No, no, not at all!”

“I always said she lacked proper upbringing. Now I see it’s because she has a clueless father like you.”

“Who are you calling clueless?” Penelope’s voice was ice as she walked into the room.

“Smoked chicken and duck don’t smell bad…”

“You’re used to the smell of garbage from your scavenging. Of course you wouldn’t notice.”

Penelope whipped her head around and stared daggers at Mrs. Sullivan. If her father hadn’t been there, she would have slapped her across the face.

Mrs. Sullivan sniffed dismissively. “Well, Mr. Anderson, you’ll stay for dinner tonight, won’t you?”

Mr. Anderson was already deeply uncomfortable. “Yes, of course.”

But as soon as he agreed, Mr. Sullivan stood up. “I have a business dinner tonight, so I won’t be able to join you. Please forgive my absence.”

“Oh, you, you go on.”

“I have to go with him, and Zebulon will probably be there too. Penelope, you can just have a meal with your father,” Mrs. Sullivan said, then shouted to the maid, “Luna, go to the market and get a couple of pounds of lobster. Let Mr. Anderson try some. He’s probably never had it before.”

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