From Sneers to Cheers: Anthea’s Ascent

Rebecca closed her eyes for a moment, anger rising hot and sharp in her chest. Cards. Always the damn card games. That was
all Sandra ever cared about.
It was already six thirty and dinner hadn't even been started. Did Sandra really think she was still some pampered socialite?
If it weren't for Sandra, Rebecca would never have broken off her engagement with the Christensens. It was all her fault. Every
last bit of it.
The more she thought about it, the angrier Rebecca became. She slammed her phone down on the coffee table.
Only then did Sandra even look up, startled. "Rebecca, you're back! Go make dinner, would you? I'm starving. I can't figure out
how to work that stove-it's nothing like the one we had before!"
After more than twenty years of living in comfort, Sandra was completely lost now that they'd moved into this shabby apartment.
Nothing was familiar. Nothing was easy.
Cook dinner? And she actually had the nerve to order Rebecca around.
That was the final straw. Rebecca snatched Sandra's phone away. "Enough! Give it a rest!"
"Rebecca! What's wrong with you?" Sandra shot to her feet, furious. "I was about to win that hand!"
Rebecca's voice was shaking with rage. "Look at the time! How can you still think about playing cards? Is that all you know how

to do? You're useless-worse than useless!"
She could hardly believe this was her mother. Sometimes she thought she'd have been better off without one at all.
Sandra was stunned. Rebecca had never spoken to her like this before. It was as if she'd been possessed.
"R-Rebecca, what's gotten into you?"
Rebecca exploded. "You really have the nerve to ask? Let me tell you— the Christensens never went bankrupt! Sherman is Mr.
Christensen! It's all your fault!
If it weren't for you, I'd be Mrs. Christensen right now!"
Sandra froze, the color draining from her face.

The Christensens weren't broke? Sherman was Mr. Christensen? The whole thing sounded impossible.
"Rebecca, you must be mistaken," Sandra said, her voice faltering.
"I saw it with my own eyes! The whole bankruptcy was just a trick-they just wanted to test us! And you—you looked down on
them from the start! Who told you to call off the engagement?"
Back then, Sandra and Dad hadn't just broken off the engagement, they'd thrown money at the Christensens, trying to humiliate
them.
If Sandra and Dad hadn't done those awful things, Karen would never have hated Rebecca so much.
It was all their fault. All of it.

Rebecca's hands were shaking as the truth crashed over her. If she'd never had anything, maybe she could accept it. But she
had—she'd had everything, and her own family had destroyed it.
It was like winning the lottery and then losing the ticket-devastating, sickening.
Sandra's face twisted with confusion and regret. She had never imagined the Christensens' bankruptcy was fake, let alone that it
was all some elaborate test.
If she'd known, she'd never have called off the engagement. Never.
Did she regret it? Of course she did. But what was the point now? Words, once
spoken, were like spilled water-you couldn't take them back.
Sandra looked at Rebecca,
struggling to find the words. "Rebecca, know you're hurting. Believe me, I'm hurting too. But you cant blame everything on me
and your father. If youd truly wanted to stay with the Christensens, do you think we could've forced you to break it off?"
The truth was, Rebecca had been the first to complain about the Christensens' fall
from grace.
Hearing that, Rebecca felt like she

couldn't even breathe-the anger was suffocating. "What are you saying? That I wanted to break off the engagement? Not was
you! You forced me! If you hadn't pushed me, I'd be Mrs. Christensen by now!"
She'd never cared about money. Never. This wasn't her fault. It was theirs. Always theirs.
Sandra's face hardened. "What are you talking about? I admit, your father and share some blame for breaking it off. But don't
pretend you didn't care about their money. You're my daughter-I could never just stand by and let you marry a family that had
fallen on hard times. We're not blameless, but don't you dare p it all on us. You have to take responsibility for your choices, too.”