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“Yeah, but I can’t imagine what it is,” Paul replied.
It was simple. Kathy was at the store, looking at the wine, and she spotted Clare at the deli counter, studying caviar.
“I couldn’t help myself. She practically sneered at me when I approached her.”
“But why did you approach her?” Emily asked, frustrated. “Especially since I specifically asked you not to tell anyone about the engagement.”
“I don’t know. I guess I wanted her to acknowledge me, and I was going to use you to do it. I don’t even remember exactly what I said, but I told her my best friend was engaged to her son. ‘You must have me confused with someone else,’ she jeered. ‘Oh, no, I don’t. Paul is engaged to my girlfriend Emily. They’re announcing it at Sunday dinner tonight.’”
Kathy apologized, and the awful thing was that Emily understood completely why Kathy did it. Clare just brought out the worst in people.
“Get off at the next exit,” Emily instructed. “I’m dreading this.”
“After my mother, this will be a breeze.”
“Clare is intimidating. But my mother can be just as annoying, trust me.”
They didn’t speak again until they arrived at the Porters’. Paul opened the door for Emily and took her hand when she got out of the truck. “I should have brought flowers.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
“She’s waiting,” Paul whispered. “I can barely see the top of her head in the door window.”
Alice Porter came bounding through the door, arms outstretched, a huge slightly incriminating grin on her face. “Welcome! I was wondering if you’d forgotten.”
“Mother, it’s just seven o’clock. What time would you have liked us here?”
“Dinner is at five, so dessert at six.”
“We just left Paul’s aunt’s house at six thirty. I’m terribly sorry if this is too late.”
“You’re fine,” Rob said, holding the door. “Come in, come in.”
The house was pristine as usual. Paul had never been there, but Emily had warned him. He found the contrast between the cold, impersonal space and Emily’s warm decorating a little shocking. The only thing missing was the Gideon Bible and hotel stationery.
“Let’s sit in the dining room, shall we? I have everything ready. Paul, do you want coffee, or is it too late? What about you, Em? Coffee? Tea? Water?”
“I’ll take coffee. What’s for dessert? I passed up banana rum cream pie to come here.”
“Coconut cream. Toasted coconut,” Alice said. “The colonel busted the coconut open with a sledgehammer right in the garage. The report was so loud, the neighbors thought he was shooting a gun. I shaved the coconut meat and toasted it over the grill. The flavor is slightly nutty with a smoky flavor.”
Emily couldn’t help it. She stole a glance at Paul and then burst into laughter. “Mother, thank you so much for going to all the trouble. I can hardly wait to try a bite.”
Talking nonstop about the pie compilation, Alice Porter reveled in the new endeavor, entertaining her daughter’s boyfriend. She was so happy, she forgot to insult Emily when she asked for a second slice. “Just a sliver more.”
Finally taking a breath, Alice pulled out a chair and sat down at the end of the table. She didn’t eat pie; it would have exceeded her calorie intake for the day. Watching Paul and Emily interact with Rob, she couldn’t help but critique her daughter’s appearance, and none of it was good. Her chin had a tiny bit of extra flesh, not a double chin, but just a hint of what it might become if she didn’t nip the weight in the bud. Emily’s arms were nice, but her meaty shoulders and huge breasts stemmed from weight, not genes. No one in Alice’s or Rob’s families was built that way. The claim that his sister Grace was built like that was false, and Alice bristled whenever Rob used it as an example of a large woman finding success in the world of beauty.
“We have some news,” Paul said when Emily reached under the table to squeeze his hand.
The words snapped Alice out of her daydream, ears perking up, and she sat up a little straighter, anticipation building. “Oh? What is it?”
Emily proudly stuck her hand out across the table, a lovely diamond sparkling on her finger. “We’re engaged! Paul asked me to marry him.”
Alice stood again and reached across the table to admire the ring. It was forced, and her lack of excitement for her daughter caused a rush of guilt to flow over her body. Why was she acting like this? Her only child was there at what she supposed was the happiest day of her life.
Instead, she saw only a beautiful ring on chubby fingers with plain, unpolished nails, the hands of a kindergarten teacher who didn’t care if she played making clay shapes and finger paints and muddy endeavors. Fighting back the disgust felt was not easy, so she went in the opposite direction.
“You’re getting married!” Alice shouted, deciding sticking to facts would make it easy to pretend she was happy for her daughter.
