Page 3 of Doran

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SARAH

“Come to Grandma!” my mother said, opening her arms wide as she saw who it was on the other side of her door.

Folding Caleb and Lucy into a hug, she glanced up at me.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it. You’re always working.”

“I swapped shifts. I’m working tomorrow instead.” Mondays and Wednesdays were my usual days off, but it was my grandmother’s birthday, and my parents were hosting a family party. I loved Grammie to bits, so I was not about to miss her birthday party. I knew my mother knew this. She knew that I knew she knew it. It was simply a subtle jab at my having divorced Harold and getting a blue collar job to support us.

“You know, Phyllis Winkleman’s son got divorced last year,” Aunt Sadie said by way of a greeting as I took the children’s coats and hung them up.

“Did he?” I asked out of politeness.

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Go see Grampa now,” Mom said to shoo the children away. Turning to join the ambush, she asked, “Isn’t he the dentist with his own private practice?”

“No, he’s a cosmetic surgeon, but does reconstructive surgeries only. None of that vanity stuff. And do you know what Phyllis said? He wants a family. His wife hadn’t wanted kids, and he’d been fine with it. But now that they’re divorced and he’s turning forty, he got to thinking that he’d like to be a dad. So much so that he’s open to dating a woman with kids.”

Both women turned their laser focused eyes to me.

“Well, how about that? You went to school with his little sister, Bethany. Remember?” Mom prodded.

I remembered Bethany alright. She’d made prom queen our senior year and had dated Harold before I did. Right before I did, in fact, and now I was second guessing that teenage relationship. Had he actually broken up with her before asking me out over spring break while the Winklemans went on a family cruise? I had a sudden, horrible suspicion that he hadn’t, and I'd unwittingly been the other girl. If so, neither she nor her friends had cared enough to bring it up. I really hoped I was wrong.

“Well, I know just the thing,” Mom continued on, not caring that I’d not given her an answer to her question. “You’re still off Wednesday, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

She grinned, a predatory, toothy smile. “That’s wonderful. We’ll invite them to dinner. Phyllis, Jacob, and Wade. Bring the children. We’ll go to The Olive Garden.”

No, no, no!

“What a lovely idea,” Aunt Sadie crooned, and I knew instantly that it was too late. I’d walked into a trap that had already been laid before I even showed up tonight. The invitation had already been sent and accepted, and the reservation made. Even worse, I couldn’t get out of it without causing upset at Grammie’s party.

“What’s wrong with her?” Dad asked, spying the look on my face.

I’d thought I’d managed to hide my displeasure, but I supposed not.

“Oh, she’s put out because we’re taking her and the kids out to dinner on Wednesday and invited the Winklemans.”

“Well, we’re doing something nice for you and the kids. You’re getting a nice dinner for once, not something cheap you are allowed to buy on food stamps.” His tone held a veneer of derision.

“Now, Bill, they can buy regular people food on food stamps. Just not steak and lobster, I think.”

I winced. Had I been this oblivious to their snobbery and ill informed natures before the divorce?

“Well, if she had bothered to forgive him and understood that she needed to give him more of her time and attention, we wouldn’t have to be introducing her to new husband material, now would we?”

And there it was. The same old song. I should have understood. I should have forgiven him. I expected too much and drove him to it. I broke up the family. Never any blame on him, and they never said a peep about his missed payments and visits. It was all me.

Grammie wandered over. “Sarah! You came! Your mother said you probably would be working.”

I turned, a genuine smile lighting up my face. “I swapped shifts with someone,” I told her. “I wouldn’t miss your birthday for all the world!”

She hugged me. “Come sit with me,” she said in my ear before releasing me. I followed her to the couch and sat in the spot she patted next to her.