“So you admit it?” she says, one thin eyebrow raised.
She has the gall to look at Mom, who sits up straight and looks at me with a small smile that nearly undoes me.
I’ve never been so ashamed of myself. Not of Mom. Not of my childhood. But of myself, for being upset at Mom, for resenting those years with her, for sometimes wanting her gone from my life, for hoping she’d forget me in Emerald Creek while she was living her shitty life god knows where.
For not being able to find it in myself to forgive her for being… who she is. A woman with her struggles, her weaknesses, her lack of support system, trying to cope with whatever shit put her in the situation she was in.
Why does this woman think she can attack her? “Who the fuck are you to speak to my mother this way?” Rage has me clasping my cutlery in iron fists.
My mother’s hand finds mine. She taps it softly, forcing me to look at her.
She has a soft smile on her face. “She’s just scared of the future. Doesn’t think she can handle it on her own. Or maybe she thinks she’s past her prime, and she won’t catch a man. The things she says about you? They’re just what she believes about herself.” Turning to Gail, she continues, “Twelve years in the business, I could teach you a trick or two, woman to woman, if that’s what you think you need. Men are idiots, you know—no offense,” she says to the men at the table “they think women over thirty are old, but did you know that your gag reflex diminishes with age and practice?”
“Mooom!” I cry out while Beck laughs out loud, Griff tilts his head with interest, Lane hides half her face in her napkin, and I don’t know what Noah thinks because I am absolutely not looking at my husband in this moment.
“She’s right,” Ms. Angela confirms, which has Beck nearly toppling over his chair and Griff snorting happily. “And that whole thing about being less tight—absolute nonsense. You have wonderful years ahead of you, dear,” she says to Gail. “If you just focus on giving instead of taking, you’ll rebound faster than I can say ‘Hold my beer.’ And I hope the boys at the table won’t forget these little tidbits of information.”
This time everyone is laughing except Gail and me. “Aunt Angela, we should start a topic in ECHoes,” Mom says in between hiccups. “Ms. Angela’s wisdom for men.”
“Oh—I’ll ask Cheryl. She has lots to say on the topic,” Ms. Angela answers.
The scene is so surreal I finally find the strength to look at Noah. “Looking forward to our twenty-year anniversary, darling,” he says out loud.
“Ewww!” “Gross!” “Get a room!” His siblings shout.
“Welp, I think that’s our cue to go,” Ms. Angela says, nodding toward Mom.
“But… dessert?” I ask stupidly.
Gail pushes her chair back, nose pinched as she glances coldly at Noah before leaving the room.
We clear the table in no time, send Ms. Angela and Mom home with pear and almond cake, and let the next part of the plan unfold.
fifty-two
Noah
During the night, I stir briefly when the clock strikes midnight, pulling Willow’s naked body close to mine. She slides her cold feet between my calves, lets out a contented sigh, and sinks deeper in her sleep.
I’m so proud of my wife.
I had to tame my inner caveman at dinner. He just wanted to throw Gail out of Lilyvale, make her feel sorry for hurting Willow. But who was I to deny my wife her moment?
She was simply spectacular. She used to be ashamed of her mother’s past—but not anymore.
At first I was hurting for her. So. Damn. Much. To be insulted in her own house? In front of her own family?
But she awed me, as she always does. As she always has. She stood proud and strong. As she should. And even if no one said anything while she dressed Gail down, she had her wholefamily’s support. You could feel it around the table, the circle of energy, of love.
She truly has become Lilyvale’s main…human.
When Marcy and Ms. Angela took care of lightening the moment while embarrassing Gail, showing her true colors without being openly mean, I was this close to clapping.
It was the stuff of family legends, stories we’ll recount through the decades after the children are in bed, just to relive the moment.
Children.I’m thinking about children with Willow.
She stirs in my arms. “Try and get some sleep,” she murmurs. “Everything’ll be alright.”
