Chapter 2 - The Setup
The living room was suffocatingly warm, packed with nearly forty relatives, family friends, and neighbors sitting on rented folding chairs or crowded against the walls. The air smelled of artificial vanilla candles, sweet punch, and the faint, dusty scent of pastel crepe paper.
My mother, Belinda, guided us through the crowd like a ringmaster presenting her prize acts. “There they are!” she announced loudly, drawing the attention of half the room. “Meredith and Spencer! Oh, honey, your dress is a little snug, isn’t it? Well, pregnancy handles everyone differently.”
A few polite chuckles rippled through the nearby cluster of aunts. I smoothed the fabric of my emerald-green maternity dress, keeping my expression entirely neutral. “I’m comfortable, Mom. Thank you.”
Across the room, sitting comfortably in an oversized plush armchair that had been designated as the “senior pregnancy throne,” sat Kendra. She was wearing a cream-colored lace dress that must have cost a small fortune, sipping from a glass of sparkling cider, and chatting animatedly with Aunt Beatrice. When Kendra saw me, her lips curved into a triumphant, knowing smirk. She didn't bother to stand. After all, why should the queen rise for a lesser subject?
“You look exhausted, Meredith,” Kendra called out across the room, her voice carrying easily over the chatter. “Are you still working those crazy hours? Clayton says auditors basically live in Excel hell. You really ought to slow down. Some of us know how to prioritize our rest.”
Clayton, lounging on the arm of her chair in a wrinkled linen shirt, offered a lazy wave. Clayton hadn't held a steady job since the Bush administration, preferring to describe himself as an “independent venture architect,” which mostly meant he slept until noon and pitched half-baked cryptocurrency ideas to anyone unfortunate enough to sit next to him at Thanksgiving.
Spencer’s jaw tightened visibly beside me. He didn't say anything, but his hand slid down to grip mine, his fingers interlacing with mine in a silent vow of solidarity.
“I’m doing just fine, Kendra,” I replied smoothly, stepping past them toward the gift table.
The gift table was already bowing under the weight of oversized gift bags, decorative boxes, and a wicker basket overflowing with pale envelopes. Many of those envelopes contained checks and cash gifts from relatives who had mailed them in advance or brought them today. I noticed several envelopes with my name scrawled in familiar handwriting—cards from my coworkers and my college roommates.
For years, I would have felt a twinge of anxiety standing in a room full of people who viewed me primarily as a utility bill with legs. But today, the heavy leather-bound red folder tucked securely inside my oversized handbag felt like an anchor. It was heavy, dense, and packed with undeniable truth.
My mother materialized beside me, her hand resting lightly—almost claw-like—on my forearm. “Meredith, honey, I want to make sure you’re mentally prepared for the announcements we’re going to make later. We want everything to go smoothly. No drama, right? You’ve always been so mature about these things.”
I turned my head slowly, looking down at her. My mother was short, perfectly coiffed, and wore a permanent expression of martyrdom that she weaponized whenever anyone failed to bend to her will.
“What kind of announcements, Mom?” I asked, playing dumb just to watch her squirm.
Her smile twitched for a fraction of a second. “Oh, just streamlining things. You know how complicated family finances can get with two babies arriving at once. Kendra has so many expenses right now, and since you and Spencer are so established, we’ve made a few adjustments to how the family support fund is being distributed.”
“Adjustments,” I repeated softly.
“Exactly. It’s just common sense, darling. I knew you’d agree.” She patted my arm twice—a patronizing gesture meant to seal the contract before any words were even spoken.
Before I could reply, Aunt Beatrice walked over, holding a clipboard decorated with ribbons. “Alright, everyone! Time to play the first shower game! Find your seats, please!”
The crowd began to shift, shuffling chairs and settling into clusters. Spencer and I took our seats in the second row, directly facing the fireplace where my mother had positioned herself beneath an extravagant floral arrangement. Kendra occupied the center stage, her throne meticulously angled so everyone could admire her silhouette.
As the room settled into a murmuring hush, my mother cleared her throat, lifted a small silver spoon from the side table, and tapped it gently against her crystal glass. Clink. Clink. Clink.
The sound cut through the chatter instantly. Within seconds, the room grew so quiet that the only audible sound was the low, steady hum of the air conditioner overhead. Forty pairs of eyes turned expectantly toward the front.
May you like
My mother beamed, raising her voice to a dramatic, theatrical pitch. “Thank you, everyone, for being here to celebrate our wonderful blessings. As you all know, we have two precious grandbabies on the way…”
I felt Spencer’s hand squeeze mine tighter. The moment had arrived.
