Chapter 2 - Silence After the Glasses Stop
For a second nobody breathed. The clink of ice against glass stopped. My sister's smile hung in the air too long, and then my mother's words settled over the long table like dust.
I felt Lily press harder into my side. Her small fingers were twisted in the skirt of her navy dress, wrinkling the cheap cotton. She didn't look up. She didn't understand what company meant, only that the laughing had stopped and now the quiet felt worse.
"Well." Uncle Ray cleared his throat first. He set his water glass down too hard. "What does that mean, Mom? The whole company?"
Cousin Denise leaned forward, her mouth still open from laughing. "Are you serious? You're naming — her? She's six."
The questions started stacking on top of each other. Low voices, quick glances toward Lily, then toward me, then toward my mother. Nobody wanted to be the first to laugh again, and nobody knew what else to do with their faces.
My sister let out a laugh. It was loud and wrong for the room.
"Oh, come on," she said, lifting her champagne flute a little higher. The wine caught the daylight from the windows. "Mother loves a dramatic toast. Right, Mother? Tell them you're kidding."
My mother didn't sit down. She stayed standing at the head of the table, both hands resting lightly on the back of her wooden chair. Her silver hair was pulled back neat, her beige jacket buttoned, the little brooch at her collar steady. She looked down the length of that formally set table — white plates, full glasses, the floral centerpiece nobody had touched — and waited until the murmurs died.
"There will be no more talk about my granddaughter's clothes at this table," she said. Her voice wasn't raised. That was what made everyone go still. "We are here for lunch. Let's continue lunch."
She nodded once at the woman serving from the kitchen, and picked up her own napkin and laid it back across her lap as she sat. The chair creaked under her. That small sound seemed to release people. Someone reached for a roll. Someone else lifted a fork and set it down again without eating.
I could have stayed and argued. God knows part of me wanted to. My sister was still standing with that flute in her hand, watching me with that forced smile, daring me to make a scene so she could call me sensitive. Lily's shoulders were shaking against my arm.
I bent down closer to her. "Hey," I whispered. "You want to get some air with me for a minute?"
She nodded into my suit sleeve. I stood and lifted her easily. She was light, lighter than she should have felt, her navy bow headband brushing my chin as she tucked her face into my neck. Her legs wrapped around my waist out of habit.
"Excuse us," I said quietly. I didn't look at my sister.
The hallway off the dining room was cooler, dimmer than the bright windows behind us. A runner rug softened our steps. From here I could hear the dining room trying to restart itself — silverware scraping, Ray's low voice trying to make a joke about the traffic on the county road, nobody really laughing.
I set Lily down but she didn't let go. She kept one hand fisted in my shirt and the other clutching that navy fabric.
"Daddy," she whispered, staring down at her dress. "Is it ugly?"
My chest tightened. I knelt again so we were eye to eye, my knees pressing into the rug. In the dining room light her dress had looked plain. Here in the hallway it was just what it was — clean, navy blue, short sleeves a little wrinkled from where she'd gripped it.
"No," I said. "It's nice. You picked the bow to match, remember?"
She touched the headband with her free hand, as if checking it was still there. "Auntie said stinky."
I put my hands gently over hers to stop her from pulling at the hem. "She was wrong to say that."
Behind us, the dining room had gone quiet again. I glanced back toward the doorway. My sister was still on her feet beside the table, champagne flute in her hand, level unchanged. She wasn't looking at my mother anymore. She was watching us in the hallway.
Lily followed my look and shrank back against me.
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"Hey," I said softly, turning her face back to me. "Nobody's going to laugh at you again today. I promise. You stay with me, okay?"
She nodded, and leaned her forehead against mine. We stayed there in the cool hallway while lunch dragged on without us.
