The Princess is a local treasure. It’s lush greenery and opulent accommodations have been featured in magazines, so I know what I’m about to see. We walk through just a fraction of the grounds until we come to a big building with massive doors. Lucia pulls on one of the ornate iron door handles and ushers usin.
The ballroom carries a cacophony of ladies’ voices. White-linen-dressed tables take up the center of the room, while long rectangular tables laden with trays of food and carving stations flank the edges. At the front is a platform stage with amicrophone.
“We’re at table three,” Lucia says, passing me. We weave our way through the tables until we arrive at ours. A shallow bowl filled with white roses serves as the centerpiece, and each place is set withsilverware.
As soon as we settle into our seats, a man comes over and hands Lucia and me a mimosa. Claire receives a pinklemonade.
We’re the first at our table. As the others join us, Lucia makes introductions. Everyone knows each other, it seems, and this event is a ritual. Each person asks the same question: How do you know Lucia? And then they have the same aghast reaction: Lucia, you have a granddaughter? Since when? Lucia smiles gracefully each time.Life can be so interesting, don’t you think? The important thing now is that we have Aubrey and Claire.She moves on, telling them about Claire’s arm, and then Claire takes the floor. She informs everybody of what grade she’s in and who her friendsare.
Their hungry eyes tell me they’re all dying for something juicier, but Lucia either doesn't see or is a fantasticpretender.
Lauren arrives then, and I’m grateful. It takes the heat off me. Her cheeks are rosy, like she’s fresh from a workout. I’m not the only person whonotices.
“Did you get to the gym today?” Lucia lifts a section of Lauren’s hair. It’s still wetunderneath.
“Before you get upset with me, you should know that I'm training for a 5k.” She gives Lucia a pointed look. “I want to do well. And bydo wellI meannotdie.”
Lucia’s frown turns into a resolute smile. “I’m proud of you. And I’d rather you not die,too.”
Lauren barks a laugh, but it’s enough to cut through the tense moment. She greets the women around the table and makes small talk with them. Like the proud mother she is, Lucia announces why Lauren waslate.
Maybe Isaac’s wrong about there being an issue with Lucia and Lauren. That seemed more like general irritation, not beingatodds.
The ladies ask question after question about Lauren’s training regimen. Claire grows bored, so I give her a coloring book and crayons from mypurse.
A tall, blond woman takes the stage. She introduces herself as the chairperson of the mom’s organization and talks for a while about the group and what they do in the community. She ends her speech by asking if there is anybody celebrating a birthday today or tomorrow. “Mother’s Day birthdays are extraspecial!”
A dampness springs up on my palms. My knee bounces. I look down, willing my leg to stop, but it doesn’t work, and now I’mqueasy.
“Mommy?” Claire whisper-yells.
“What?” I whisper back, my voicestrained.
“Your birthday is inMay.”
I look from Claire and into Lucia’s curious eyes. My smile is shaky. “End of May,” I clarify. I feel bad for lying toher.
She looks relieved. I can practically read her thoughts.Of all people, Aubrey couldn’t possibly have a birthday that falls around Mother’s Day. That would be toocruel.
Except Ido.
Mother’s Day is always the second Sunday in May. And my birthday is Maytenth.
The irony isn’t lost on me, and it wasn’t lost on Lucia just now either. Luckily Claire doesn’t remember my actual birthday, and now Lucia thinks I was shown somemercy.
The moment passes, lunch is served, and just when I think I might make it out of here with only that tiny incident, the woman directly across from me clears her throat and says myname.
“Yes?” I smile at her. She has a pinched face, the kind that looks judgy all thetime.
“Your mother couldn’t make it today? Does she live out of state?” Her eyebrows draw together, but the concern looksfake.
My fork is paused mid-air, and I grip ittighter.
“She was unable to attend. It’s just me and Claire today.” My cheerful tone sounds as false as the woman’s concern. I set down the utensil and use my now empty hand to wrap an arm around Claire’sshoulder.
“Well, I don’t know what could be more important than a mother-daughter brunch. Especially when you have a grand-baby as sweet as Claire.” She smiles atClaire.
I don’t respond. I’m too busy using my napkin to meticulously wipe the chicken salad off Claire’s face.See how busy I am cleaning my child’s face? Way too busy to realize you are evenspeaking.
