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He nodded. “Well, if you’re lucky, maybe we can spike the punch tonight.” The front door opened and Jacob stood in front of them, obviously waiting anxiously. He let out a sigh of quiet relief, turning around with his hands in the air.
“They’re here, Mona.”
A short woman with bright red lipstick, shoulder-length blonde hair, and a blue mid-length dress rounded a corner, a bright smile plastered on her face.
“She’s real!” she exclaimed, hurrying toward Blythe with her arms outstretched. “Come here, come here.” A cloud of perfume overtook Blythe’s lungs as she was pulled into a tight hug, Mona bobbing her side-to-side with excitement. “Oh my goodness, I can’t believe it. When Asher told me he was bringing a girl home with him for the weekend, I thought for sure he was lying. You’re real? He didn’t, like, hire you or anything?”
“I—I’m real,” she said, once her lungs were able to re-inflate to their full size. “It’s really nice to meet you, Mrs. Grace.”
“Oh, pish-posh, Mrs. Grace. You can call me Mom. Or Mona. But I prefer Mom.”
“Mom,” Asher chided. “Please don’t scare her off.”
“Scare her off, what about scaringyouoff? What on earth did I ever do to deserve a son who never writes or calls?” She pulled him into another of her spine-crushing hugs, kissing his cheek so that a bright lip print was left.
He wiped it away with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry. Work’s just been crazy, you know? It’s no excuse.”
“Well, you’re right about that. But, I’ll let it go this time because you’ve brought a girl home.” She pulled Blythe’s arm, wrapping hers through the bend and leading her into the kitchen. “Come now, you have to tell me everything. How did you meet? How long have you been together? Do you live together? What do you do? Has he been a gentleman?”
Blythe cast a look over her shoulder to Asher who offered an apologetic shrug. “Take it easy, Mom.”
Mona was making no attempt to listen as more and more questions poured from her. Who knew such a small person could contain so much curiosity?
* * *
The party wentoff without a hitch. Continuing to crush every stereotype Blythe had about ridiculously wealthy families, the Graces were the warmest and most welcoming group of people Blythe had ever had the pleasure of meeting. Having grown up in Texas, that was saying a lot. Sure, Mona Grace talkedwaytoo much, Jacob seemed to always have an all-knowing look in his eye, and Grandmother Lorene asked the same questions over and over again, but they also showered Blythe with attention. In truth, they appeared so relieved to see someone with their son, nothing else seemed to matter.
They’d gracefully overlooked the fact that Blythe felt so out of place surrounded by people who could easily drop on lunch what she’d make in a year. Asher kept her close to him despite mingling with old college buddies, friends of the family, and actual family. Everyone was enthralled to meet her. They wanted to know what she did for a living, what it was like growing up in the South, and how in the world she had ever come to meet ‘a man like Asher.’ At first, she’d felt self-conscious, as if they believed she wasn’t worthy of him and might be questioning how she’d tricked him into spending any time with her, but by the end of the night, she no longer felt as much of an outsider. She’d been introduced to practically everyone there and, for the most part, they’d all been warm and friendly.
As the party wound down and the last few guests began to head out, Grandmother Lorene crept toward her. The woman was in amazing shape for having just turned eighty, and she still seemed to take complete care of herself.
“Well, what’d you think?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” Blythe lowered her brow, trying to hear the woman’s voice over the ballad playing through the speakers to her right.
“About the party. What did you think of it?”
“Oh, it was really nice, Grandmother Lorene.” It felt like such a formal name, but it was how everyone seemed to address her, Asher and his parents included, so Blythe went with it.
“You could get used to it, eh?” she asked, elbowing her playfully as her eyebrows danced.
“Me?”
“This could be your life now, Blythe. If you nail down our Asher.”
“Oh,” Blythe said, perhaps a bit too loudly. She put a hand up shaking her head. “It’s still…it’s still super early, Grandmother Lorene. I don’t think we’re anywhere close to thinking about that.”
The old woman looked across the room to where her grandson stood, his hand on his father’s shoulder as he laughed along with a group of middle-aged men. He looked at Blythe, catching her eye for just a moment and smiling warmly. “That boy has never so much as brought a girl home for a Sunday brunch, let alone a party like this.”
“Really?” Blythe asked, though she’d already been told the same thing from nearly everyone at the party, including Grandmother Lorene twice now.
“You make him happy. I can see it. I know.” She took Blythe’s hand, squeezing it in her own. Blythe stared at the translucent skin, purple veins peeking out. “Today’s my eightieth birthday party.”
“I know,” Blythe patronized her. “Happy birthday.”
She smiled sadly. “It seems like just last year I was seventeen and falling in love with my husband, Asher’s grandfather. Then I was twenty-three with two babies on my hips. Then, I blinked and this could be my last birthday.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s not—”
