“Oh, there are several versions,” Ethan said, leaning closer as if sharing a secret. “Apparently, you couldn’t keep a job. You blamed everyone else for your failures. Last I heard, you were practically homeless.”
So that was the narrative. For ten years, my mother had been turning me into a cautionary tale, the ungrateful daughter who couldn’t survive without her.
“Interesting,” I said quietly.
“What’s interesting?”
“That she talks about me at all,” I replied, “considering she hasn’t called me in ten years.”
Ethan’s smirk flickered for a moment.
“Whatever. Just don’t cause a scene.”
He glanced at the box in my hands.
“And don’t expect anyone to be impressed by that. Everyone knows you can’t afford anything decent.”
For a brief moment, I considered telling him everything, watching his expression collapse when he realized exactly who I had become. But not yet. Not like this.
“Excuse me,” I said politely. “I should congratulate the hosts.”
I walked past him toward the main table where my mother sat like a queen surveying her court. With each step, the box in my hands felt heavier.
The conversation at the table stopped the moment I arrived.
Graham Whitaker sat at Nicole’s right, holding a glass of whiskey. Age had hardened his features. Deep lines framed his mouth, and the expression he gave me was identical to the one he wore the day he told me to leave his house.
I placed the box gently on the table.
“Happy anniversary, Mom.”
Nicole glanced at the gift as if it might explode. Then she turned to the women sitting beside her, regular members of the country club, dressed in pearls and designer gowns, and laughed lightly.
“Well, look at that,” she said. “My daughter decided to show up after all.”
The women exchanged awkward smiles.
“That’s a beautiful box,” one of them said politely.
Nicole didn’t touch it.
“I’m sure it’s very thoughtful.”
She emphasized the word with a tone that made it sound like a joke.
“Kendall was never particularly good with gifts,” she continued. “Or money, or planning ahead, for that matter.”
Graham snorted.
“Remember that Christmas she gave us those homemade photo frames?”
Soft laughter spread around the table.
“So what’s inside?” another woman asked curiously.
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