“Oh,” she said, and there was something in her voice I’d never heard directed at either of us before, something flat and unwelcoming. “I didn’t realize you were coming tonight.”
I remember blinking at her, genuinely confused, because we’d confirmed the time with her two days earlier over text, and I actually pulled my phone halfway out of my pocket before she kept talking.
“It’s just — we’re pretty full up in here tonight, Kate. Christine’s crew is here, and with the table set the way it is, I don’t really think we have room for one more right now.”
For one more. I remember the exact words because I turned them over in my head a dozen times on the drive home afterward, trying to figure out if she meant Emma, meant me, meant both of us, meant the whole idea of us showing up at all. Behind her, through the gap in the doorway, I could see straight into the dining room. I could see Christine’s kids running past the doorway, laughing, one of them holding what looked like a candy cane sword. I could see extra folding chairs already set up along the far wall, clearly anticipating more guests than were currently seated.
“Mom,” I said, keeping my voice as level as I could manage with Emma standing right beside me, “we talked about this. You said six o’clock.”
“I know, I know,” she said, and there was something almost apologetic in her tone now, but not apologetic enough to actually move aside from the door. “It’s just been a lot this year, with everyone. I think it’s better if it’s a smaller gathering tonight. You understand.”
