“How quaint!”
She was already turning away, waving at one of her bridesmaids across the room.
I spent the whole brunch trying to find my place in conversations that didn’t have room for me. When I told a story about Ethan building his first treehouse at 10, one of Veronica’s friends snickered.
“How cute. He was always so handy, wasn’t he, Veronica?”
They all laughed like I’d told the funniest joke in the world. I’ve lived long enough to know the difference between people laughing with you and people laughing at you.
“Grandma, you doing okay?” Ethan whispered to me later, his hand on my shoulder.
“I’m fine, sweetheart. Just fine.”
The wedding was three months later.
Veronica’s family pulled out all the stops. It was a grand ceremony, with 400 guests, an orchestra instead of a DJ, and a floral arch so tall it could’ve been a building. I’d never seen so much money gathered in one place, and honestly, it made me a little dizzy.
I couldn’t afford anything fancy for a gift. My pension barely covers groceries and the property tax Walter would’ve paid if he were still here. But I had something better than money. I had time, love, and memory.
