Claire ordered. “Make sure you lock yourself in and don’t open the doors for anyone but us. Go.” Devon shoved her untouched plate of spaghetti and meatballs away and made a grand fuss of leaving the table. She didn’t even bother looking at her mother for moral support, knowing all too well she would side with Claire. She stomped away from the table, but not before casting Claire a murderous look. Claire returned the stare with equal wrath. Devon pretended to leave but hid in a nearby alcove and eavesdropped. “Claire, I let her have the wine, it’s my fault,” Analise apologized. “She drank the whole glass.” “We should have been paying more attention.” “She’s used to getting away with murder, Analise. I do question your parenting skills sometimes,” Claire stated, tossing back her own wine and refilling both of their glasses. “That’s a bit harsh. I love my daughter and I try to be a good mother. You can’t expect me to keep her on a leash.” “Manners and discipline are what I expect.
