“To Jason,” she said. “For buying a house worthy of his upbringing. And to our new little hostess, who did… her best.”
People shifted uncomfortably.
Jason squeezed my knee under the table.
Diane took a sip, then smirked. “You know,” she said, “I’m actually impressed. For someone who grew up with nothing, you did manage to pull a few things together.”
“Mom,” Jason warned.
She ignored him. “When Jason told us he was marrying a girl who lost her mother so young, I worried,” she went on. “No mother to teach her how to run a home, how to cook, how to behave at a proper dinner. But you’re doing… acceptably.”
I felt my face burn.
My brother, sitting across from me, narrowed his eyes. “You know she can hear you, right?” he said. “You’re not whispering.”
Diane smiled at him. “I’m just being honest,” she said. “It’s admirable she turned out as well as she did, given her circumstances. Poor little orphan girl makes good. It’s a nice story.”
The word “orphan” came out of her mouth like an insult.
My vision blurred for a second.
I pushed my chair back. “Excuse me,” I said. My voice sounded weirdly calm.
I walked into the kitchen and grabbed the edge of the counter so hard my fingers hurt.
For a minute, tears pushed at the back of my eyes. I thought about all those nights making cheap meals for my dad, all the effort I’d put into that turkey, and now it was rotting in the trash.
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