Aida felt a familiar twinge in her chest, the one that reminded her how much his parents didn’t like her, and regularly made subtle digs to make sure she knew it. They’d never approved of her—too academic, not enough connections, not enough money. It was strange and inexplicable, considering Graham himself had a job as a high school physics teacher and they weren’t exactly made of money either. But for some reason, to them, Aida wasn’t a good enough match, and they never missed an opportunity to make that clear.
“Our home is your home,” Graham replied, already angling toward the kitchen with the cookies.
“So, what’s for dinner?” Brennan asked, taking off his coat and scrutinizing the living room as if inspecting it for defects.
“We’ve got a goose, some sweet potatoes, green beans, and a chocolate mousse pie for dessert,” Aida listed off.
“A goose? My, aren’t we fancy?” Miriam remarked.
“It was an old family tradition in my house,” Aida said. “Graham was excited about the challenge. But you know him. Everything he cooks is delicious.”
As she spoke, Aida couldn’t help but think of her own parents, who had passed away in recent years. They had been much older than Graham’s parents and couldn’t have been more different. Where Miriam and Brennan were always judgmental, her parents had been joyful, welcoming, and free of pretense. Aidamissed them most during moments like this, when she had to put up with Graham’s family’s constant scrutiny.
Miriam walked over to the Christmas tree, carefully arranging the stack of colorfully wrapped gifts at its base. As she straightened, her gaze lingered on the tree and the room’s decorations, a few with her and Brennan’s names on the present tags.
“Well, everything looks very... quaint,” she said, the word hanging in the air like a thinly veiled critique.
Aida bit her lip, a flicker of irritation rising. Miriam’s comments, as always, came laced with judgment, like she had something to prove. Choosing not to respond, Aida gently guided her in-laws toward the dining table, eager to escape the prickling atmosphere near the tree.
Unfortunately, the dinner table was a battlefield, with Aida’s attempts at humor falling flat amid awkward silences and strained politeness, while Graham’s jokes drew genuine laughter from Brennan and Miriam. Brennan dominated the conversation, boasting about his role as a municipal court clerk. Miriam, who had also been a teacher—of high school English—offered up stories of her former students who had recently published articles or secured high-paying jobs, each tale an arrow in Aida’s already-thinning armor.
“So, Aida, what’s new with your book?” Brennan asked, as if remembering to include her in the conversation.
“Yes, do tell. When will it be out? It will give you the needed credibility,” Miriam chimed in.
Aida hesitated, feeling cornered. The room seemed to shrink as all eyes turned her way, and she reluctantly responded. “It’s not good news. My publisher folded, so I’m back at square one.”
Brennan frowned, cutting into his goose. “Why can’t you find another publisher?”
“It’s not that easy,” Aida said, her voice tinged with frustration. She didn’t want to get into the details; they’d never understood the nuances of her university career nor cared to.
Brennan seemed like he was going to say something else but thought better of it and took a long draft of wine instead.
Miriam, however, wasn’t ready to let it go. “What are you going to do?” she asked, her tone dangerously close to condescending. “Maybe you should focus less on the book and more on hitting the pavement to find—”
“The book was supposed to help make that easier,” Aida cut in, her voice sharper than she intended. “I amhitting the pavement. But my timing is way off. They’ve already filled faculty positions for spring at most places. Even if I found something tomorrow, I wouldn’t be starting until summer at the earliest, and more likely, the fall. I thought I might find an adjunct position, but I haven’t had much luck. I may try to find something temporary to tide me over while I keep looking.”
“It’s a good idea,” Graham said, putting his arm protectively around the back of Aida’s chair. “But mostly so you keep your mind occupied. Job hunting is such a downer. Maybe Felix had the right idea suggesting something to you.”
“Felix? The tour guide friend of yours in Rome?” Miriam asked.
“Yes, that’s him,” Aida confirmed.
Miriam reached for the bread basket, her expression carefully blank. “I’m sure a tour guide is full of useful career advice.”
At the slight to her friend, Aida clenched her fists beneath the table. She forced herself to relax. “He knows someone who might be able to offer me some temporary work. A bit like a research fellowship.”
Brennan straightened and laid his napkin on the table. “I suppose Graham is right. It is a good idea. You shouldn’t expect Graham to support you both on a teacher’s salary.” He gave a conspiratorial nod toward her fiancé.
The sting of Brennan’s words was sharper than she’d like to admit. Before she could give the heated response on the tip of her tongue, Graham’s voice cut in, firm but calm. “Actually, we’re doing just fine. Aida’s been working really hard, and I’mconfident her book will find a new publisher. It was accepted once, so it has a strong chance.” He gave Aida’s hand a reassuring squeeze under the table.
Miriam smiled approvingly at Graham, the warmth in her expression reserved entirely for her son. “Well, aren’t you lucky to have someone so responsible looking out for you?”
Aida seethed.
Miriam waved her fork at Aida. “Maybe you should hold off on the wedding.”
Simultaneously, Aida and Graham both responded with an emphatic, “No!”
