“What about Grandma?” Mark asked. “Should we tell her to bring her wallet?”
Katie laughed. “Please. She’ll try to pay like she always does. But cousin dearest will swoop in and save the day. She loves playing hero.”
That night, I drove Grandma to the nicest restaurant in town. She wore her favorite lavender sweater and kept smoothing it nervously in the car.
Inside, the others acted like they were at a celebrity afterparty. Katie photographed every cocktail “for the aesthetic.” Mark loudly announced he was a “connoisseur” and ordered the most expensive whiskey on the menu. Even our server, Miguel, deserved an award for patience.
Aunt Linda enthusiastically recommended the priciest options to everyone at the table.
Grandma just laughed, glowing with happiness. “This is lovely,” she whispered to me. “I never expected all this fuss.”
“I’m glad you’re having fun,” I said, squeezing her hand.
Meanwhile, bottles of wine — not glasses — kept arriving. Premium steaks. Extra sides. Desserts “for the table.”
I quietly ordered a simple filet and a house wine. Grandma did the same.
“That’s all?” Uncle Joe pressed. “It’s a special occasion! Live a little!”
