As Patricia moved toward the door, Toby bounced excitedly beside Sandra. "Did you hear how good Emma was? She hit all the high notes."
"She was amazing," Sandra agreed. "You must be proud of your sister."
"I am. Even if she's weird about practicing all the time." Toby's grin was infectious. "Can we get cookies at the reception? Mrs. Peterson said they have the good ones from the bakery."
"We'll see," Terry said, but Sandra could tell he was already mentally calculating how many cookies constituted reasonable sugar intake for an eleven-year-old on a school night.
They made their way to the crowded lobby, where parents clustered around their young performers with cameras and congratulations. Sandra spotted Emma near the stage door,glowing with post-performance adrenaline as Patricia hugged her tight.
"You were incredible, sweetheart," Patricia was saying. "I'm so proud of you."
"I can't believe you actually came," Emma said, and Sandra caught the note of wonder in her voice. "I thought for sure you'd have to work."
"I almost did," Patricia admitted. "But this was important."
Something passed across Patricia's face then— maybe guilt or recognition of how rare these moments were. Sandra felt a pang of sympathy for the other woman, understanding suddenly how much Patricia was missing by choosing work over these experiences.
Toby raced over from greeting a friend, launching himself at Patricia with typical enthusiasm. "Mom, did you hear Emma's solo part? She was the best one up there!"
"She really was," Patricia agreed, though Sandra noticed how her gaze drifted briefly to her phone when it buzzed with what was probably a work notification.
Emma spotted Sandra and Terry approaching and broke away from her mother to throw her arms around Sandra. "Did you hear that high note in the second song? I didn't crack at all!"
"You were perfect," Sandra said, squeezing Emma tight. "I was so proud I almost cried."
"Really?" Emma's face glowed with pleasure. "I saw you all sitting together, and it made me feel so... I don't know. Happy, I guess."
They stood there in the lobby as a family group, and Sandra felt the complexity of the situation settle around them like a warm, slightly awkward blanket. Sandra now understood that love and daily presence were different things for the other woman.
"Are you coming to the reception?" Emma asked Patricia hopefully. "They have cookies and punch, and Mrs. Richardson said there might be cake from the bake sale."
Patricia glanced at her phone again, and Sandra saw the moment of calculation cross her face. Work pulled her attention even during her daughter's special moment.
"I wish I could, sweetheart, but I need to get back. I hate driving over the bridge in the dark, and I have an early meeting tomorrow."
Emma's face fell slightly, but she recovered with the practiced grace of a child accustomed to disappointment. "That's okay. I'm glad you came to the concert."
"Your dad and I will stay for the reception," Sandra said quickly. "If you want me to."
"Yes!" Emma and Toby said simultaneously, their enthusiasm warming Sandra's chest.
Patricia turned to Sandra with that grateful smile again, the one that was becoming familiar. "Thank you. That's very kind."
As Patricia hugged the kids goodbye and promised to call soon, Sandra felt Terry's hand find the small of her back. The touch was warm and steadying, a reminder that whatever complicated dynamics existed between the adults, the children were what mattered.
"You okay?" Terry murmured in her ear as they watched Patricia walk away, already pulling out her phone to check messages.
Sandra watched Patricia's retreating figure, noting how quickly the other woman shifted back into work mode once the parental obligation was fulfilled. It should have bothered her more than it did.
"I'm fine," she said and realized she meant it.
She might not understand Patricia's priorities, but she understood her own. Emma and Toby needed someone whowould show up and stay, someone who saw loving them not as a burden to be grateful for help with, but as the most incredible privilege imaginable.
At the reception, Sandra found herself in the familiar position of being the adult who remembered to grab napkins as Terry managed the logistics of getting one sugar-high kid and one adrenaline-filled preteen ready to head home. Emma chattered excitedly about the songs they'd performed, while Toby focused on methodically eating his way through what Sandra suspected was his fourth cookie.
"Sandra," Emma said suddenly, tugging on her sleeve. "I'm really glad you and Dad found each other."
The simple statement hit Sandra harder than any elaborate declaration of love could have. "Me too, sweetheart."
