Chapter 12 - SUNDAY DINNER ON THE WEST SIDE
The apartment building on the west side of the city was modest, clean, and surrounded by flower boxes filled with bright red geraniums.
When I pulled my SUV into the parking lot on Sunday evening, Emma and Noah scrambled out of the backseat with matching excitement. Emma was carrying a brightly wrapped birthday present she had spent two hours decorating with stickers, while Noah clutched a handmade birthday card featuring a very lopsided drawing of a cat.
“Are we going to Grandma’s new house?” Noah asked, looking up at me as we walked toward the glass lobby doors.
“We are,” I smiled, taking his small hand. “It’s a bit smaller than the old house, but it’s very cozy.”
“Does she have toys?” Noah asked hopefully.
“She has lots of love, buddy. That’s even better.”
I pressed the buzzer for apartment 304. A moment later, the buzzer clicked, and the inner door unlocked with a sharp mechanical buzz.
We rode the elevator up to the third floor and walked down the carpeted hallway until we reached apartment 304. The door was already cracked open slightly, and the rich, comforting scent of roasted chicken and garlic drifted out into the hallway.
I pushed the door open gently.
The living room of the apartment was compact, neatly arranged with a comfortable floral sofa, a small wooden dining table pushed against the wall, and bookshelves lined with paperbacks. It wasn't a sprawling colonial with crystal chandeliers, but it was warm, bright, and genuinely lived-in.
My mother stepped out from the small kitchen area, wearing a simple cotton apron over a navy blue dress. Her hair was neatly styled, and a genuine, unforced smile lit up her face.
The moment she saw Emma and Noah, her eyes brightened.
“Grandma!” Noah squealed, breaking away from my hand and running straight across the rug to wrap his arms around her knees.
Eleanor dropped down to her knees, laughing softly, and scooped him into a tight embrace. “Look at how big you’re getting, Noah! Happy to see you, sweetie.”
Emma walked up more shyly, holding out the wrapped gift. “Happy birthday, Grandma. I made the wrapping paper myself.”
Eleanor stood up, taking the gift from Emma with trembling hands, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She knelt down and pulled Emma into an equally warm hug. “Thank you, my darling. This is the most beautiful wrapping paper I’ve ever seen.”
From the kitchen, Melissa and Caleb walked out, both smiling and looking genuinely relaxed. There were no designer suits or expensive watches, just clean clothes and easy postures.
“Hey, Rach,” Caleb said, walking over and giving me an awkward, unaccustomed hug. “Glad you guys made it.”
“Thanks, Caleb. Good to see you,” I replied, patting his shoulder.
Melissa walked over with a tray of appetizers. “Dinner’s almost ready, everyone. Wash your hands!”
We sat down at the small dining table together—all of us, squeezed in tight, elbows occasionally bumping against each other. There was no prime rib, no silver napkin rings, and no crystal glassware.
Just roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, a bowl of green beans, and a homemade chocolate cake sitting on the counter.
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And as my mother looked around the table at her children and grandchildren, laughing as Noah accidentally dropped a roll into his lap, she didn't look like a queen surveying her court.
She looked like a mother, surrounded by a family that was finally, truly whole.
