Chapter 17

The lights of Ida’s six thousand square foot home twinkled invitingly as Pam’s cab made its way up the long, winding, tree-lined drive. Every muscle and nerve in her body stood at attention in readiness to face her mother. Ida’s estate gate keeper had forewarned her of Pam’s arrival so she was already waiting for her at the door.

The soft music that was religiously piped into each room filtered past Ida through the open doorway and into the night.  It gave the scene an artificial feel. Then, almost everything about Ida was artificial. She had artificial nails, artificial hair color, an artificial face lift, artificial breast implants and, most definitely an artificial personality. The only thing that Pam could think of that was real about her mother was her very real love of money. And why not? How else could she maintain such an artificial lifestyle?

Pam pushed her way past the older woman, ignoring Ida’s outstretched arms, and bound