"Nonsense," Fiona dismisses."We're all getting acquainted.Nadine was just telling us about Karina's childhood dance recital disaster."
Karina groans."Mom, you didn't."
"What?Is good story!"Nadine protests."Shows your determination.Even when costume falls apart, you finish dance."
"Her sequined tutu disintegrated mid-performance," Viktoria explains."Shed glitter like a disco ball in an earthquake."
"I was nine," Karina groans."And it was only half the tutu."
"You kept dancing," Nadine says proudly."This is what matters.Never quit, my Karina."
There's genuine affection in her mother's voice, and I see Karina soften despite her embarrassment.
"Well," I say, "now that my grandmother has thoroughly humiliated me, and we've moved on to Karina, perhaps we should balance things out.Did you know she once fell asleep during a board presentation?"
Karina's head whips toward me."I did not!"
"You did.Third slide into the Q2 projections.Tiny little snore, right before you jerked awake and claimed you were 'processing the data.'"
"That was a thoughtful pause!"
"It was an adorable snore," I declare, earning a swift kick under the table.
Fiona watches us with undisguised delight."Speaking of education, Karina, tell me about your master's program.It must have been challenging balancing advanced studies with your career."
Again, that flicker crosses Karina's face—so brief I might have imagined it.
"It was intense.”Her smile is strained.“Lots of late nights."
"Where did you do your undergraduate work again?"Fiona presses.
"Seattle Pacific," Viktoria interjects smoothly."All three of us attended.Family tradition."
"And your thesis topic?"Fiona continues, eyes fixed on Karina."Callum mentioned it was on digital engagement strategies, but I'd love to hear more details."
Karina takes a large sip of wine."It focused on evolving metrics for measuring authentic audience connection.Pretty dry stuff."
"Not at all.I find it fascinating how someone from your background managed to rise so quickly in such a competitive field."
"What exactly do you mean by 'someone from my background'?"Karina asks, an edge creeping into her voice.
I clear my throat."Gran, perhaps we could save the professional interrogation for work hours?"
"It's not an interrogation, dear.Just friendly interest."But Fiona's eyes are sharp, assessing."After all, it's not every day one meets a woman who's accomplished so much by forty."
"Forty-one," Karina prompts.
"Tell us about this Richard," Nadine interrupts, either oblivious to or deliberately diffusing the tension."The brother who ran away with knitting woman.He sounds like, how you say, idiot man."
"That's exactly how you say it.”I reach for my glass of wine."Complete idiot man."
This successfully diverts the conversation to safer territory—the universal joy of mocking Richard—and the evening gradually relaxes again.
By the time everyone begins gathering coats and exchanging goodbyes, it's nearly midnight.
Somehow, against all odds, Fiona and Nadine have exchanged phone numbers and made plans for tea next week, a development that should terrify me but somehow doesn't.
"Walk me out?"Karina asks as her family heads toward the elevator.
