Zoe waved enthusiastically from the passenger seat of a black Challenger. Beside her was a strawberry-blond young man with sunglasses and one of those preppy swept-over haircuts that you would see in late 90s movies.
"And who is that with her?"
Bette waved at her daughter, keeping a smile on her face while she talked. "That little twerp is the guy Zoe has been seeing for about a year now. Shelly introduced them. His father is some prominent asshole at the country club."
Kerrie raised an eyebrow at Bette. "And I'm taking it by your tone that we're not the biggest fans of him? What is his name?"
"Remington."
Kerrie paused. "Like the gun company?"
"Yes, like the gun company. He could be worse, but he could also be a lot better. He's just your typical stuck-up 20-something-year-old. He graduated last year and has been working with his dad. His dad owns Duncan's Construction."
"Oh, I've heard of them before. Don't they sort of monopolize the area regarding construction?"
Bette nodded. "Yes, they have a habit of pushing small businesses out. I think Remington works in the office for his dad. Kind of like learning the ropes."
"Nothing like working for good ol' Dad."
They joined the young couple outside in the driveway. Bette introduced Remington and Kerrie before heading inside.
Her old home didn't smell right. It smelled nothing like it should. She had lived in that house for 10 years, and it had always smelled the same, like warm bread and lavender. But now it smelled like some sort of cheap laundry detergent. It was overwhelming. Bette wasn't sure where the smell was coming from until she noticed that almost every other plug-in seemed to have one of those smell-good adapters.
She motioned for Zoe to lean in as they walked into the kitchen. "Why does it smell so strong in here? I can barely breathe."
"Yeah, that's Jen's doing. She says she likes to have fresh-smelling rooms. If you stay here for too long, you'll get a headache. I always go through and unplug the ones upstairs when I stay the night because I can't stand it. I haven't said anything because I don't want to be mean, but I don't know how Mom stands being in here. She doesn't have any in her office and spends a lot of time there. I suspect some of it's to get away from the smell."
Nodding, Bette understood. There was no way she would be able to stay in there for very long, and she was thankful when she realized that the luncheon was going to be held outside on the patio. She briefly wondered if Shelly did that on purpose to avoid the assaulting smell.
The backyard was immaculate as always. High shrubs cut into sharp angles, and not a single flower to be found. Rock designs along the house, and a stoic metal fountain sat in the middle of the courtyard. A canopy had been erected, and inside was a long table set for lunch. Bette had to admit it was a beautiful setup. She didn't know if Jen was the one that decorated it or if she had hired the company that owned the furniture, but it was nice.
Shelly called for them, motioning them over to where a woman in a crisp white shirt and black pants was assembling drinks at a portable bar. "I'm glad you were able to make it. I know you don't want to be here, Bette."
"Well, this day is about Zoe, and no matter how much I would rather not be here, I do want to support her."
Nodding, Shelly handed Bette a flute filled with champagne. "I understand. This is a little awkward for all of us, I suppose. I thought having a bar wouldn't hurt to settle the nerves. I made sure they stocked your favorite champagne. And what can I get for you? I'm sorry, I don't remember what your name is."
"Kerrie, Kerrie Matthews. And I don't drink. So perhaps Coke on the rocks?" Her comment was aimed at the bartender, who immediately went to work assembling the drink. She was handed a crystal glass with the brown liquid in it.
Shelly lifted up her nose, frowning at Kerrie. "Why don't you drink?"
"Because I'm a—"
"Shelly, did you change the patio furniture?" Bette interrupted hastily.
Kerrie frowned down at her, catching the interruption, but didn't say anything. Bette's cheek warmed under her gaze.
Shelly's face changed to admiration. Something she loved to do was brag about new things she had bought. It was a good distraction.
Lunch was the guest's choice of roasted lamb or glazed salmon. It was delicious, and Bette reminisced about how much she had missed a nice, elevated meal. The quality of cooking. The fresh ingredients, the champagne that costs more than $10. Even dessert was fantastic: sorbet, fresh mint, and a little slice of sponge cake so light that she wouldn't have been surprised if it floated off her plate. She would have licked the plate clean had people not been around her.
It had been a much easier experience than she had expected it to be. By the end, she was almost comfortable. Her ex-in-laws had given her the cold shoulder, refusing to even look her way, which was fine with Bette. Others, their old friends, greeted Bette and chatted as if they hadn't completely ditched her after the divorce. The superficial conversations were easy to have.
"Can I ask a question?" asked Kerrie as they stood back from the other guests.
"Of course."
"Why did Shelly take your last name? She doesn't seem like the type to give up her name."
