“Why me?”
“Because you’re the only person willing to stand up to her without risking being disowned,” Keira says with a crooked smile.
Fair point.
Isobel has always considered me “too independent for my own good,” which in her mind basically means I’m a lost cause anyway.
Might as well use it to my advantage.
“Okay. Where is she?”
Keira checks her watch and grimaces.
“Here. She’ll be here any minute…”
A few moments later, the door swings open dramatically.
Isobel walks in with her chin lifted and the expression of a deeply offended queen.
“Keira, I certainly hope you’ve abandoned this ridiculous idea of?—”
She stops when she sees me.
“Mary. I didn’t realize you were here.”
“Surprise,” I say cheerfully.
Isobel shuts the door behind her and turns toward her daughter.
“If you dragged me here to convince me to organize a baby shower, you’re wasting your time, Keira.”
“Mom,” Keira begins patiently, “Jane is American. This matters to her.”
“Jane lives in Scotland now,” Isobel replies firmly. “She needs to adapt to our customs.”
Emma attempts diplomacy.
“We could do something small. Just family. Nothing extravagant.”
Isobel folds her arms.
“In my day, people waited until the birth. We didn’t tempt fate by celebrating before the baby arrived safely.”
I decide to step in.
“Jane’s seven months pregnant. Fate’s already been tempted, hasn’t it?”
Isobel turns toward me, eyes flashing.
“This isn’t funny, Mary.”
“I’m not joking. She’s been carrying the baby for seven months. If something terrible was going to happen because of a celebration, it already would have. A baby shower now won’t change anything.”
“It’s a matter of principle.”
“No. It’s a matter of tradition. And traditions evolve.”
Isobel opens her mouth to argue, but a familiar voice cuts through the room from the doorway.
