Chapter 6 - The Ashton Gardens Ballad
Saturday afternoon arrived bright and clear, the storm clouds completely washed away by a crisp autumn breeze.
The Ashton Gardens Country Club looked like a page out of a bridal magazine. Manicured lawns, white pillars, valet parking attendants in crisp vests, and rows of luxury European sedans lining the circular drive.
I pulled my Ford pickup right up behind a gleaming Mercedes SUV. The valet parking attendant—a young college kid in a tight uniform—stared at my salt-stained mudflaps with visible hesitation as I stepped out of the cab.
I didn't wear a pastel floral dress or a cute maternity-friendly sundress. I wore a sharp, tailored black blazer over a black silk shell, pressed dark trousers, and my polished leather boots. Under my arm, I carried a single heavy manila folder secured with a red elastic band.
When I pushed open the double glass doors of the grand ballroom, forty pairs of eyes turned instantly toward me.
The room was decorated in an explosion of blush pink and baby blue balloons, draped with silk ribbons and floral centerpieces that must have cost more than my monthly grocery budget. Harper sat at the head table on a velvet-upholstered armchair, surrounded by an absolute mountain of oversized gift boxes, designer baby bags, and wrapped packages.
Chase stood nearby, chatting with his parents near the catering table, dressed in a sharp blazer and silk tie.
My mother crossed the expansive hardwood floor the second she saw me, her heels clicking a sharp rhythm against the floorboards. Her face was wreathed in a triumphant, welcoming smile designed for public consumption, but her eyes were hard as nails.
She reached my side and immediately grabbed my arm, her fingers digging into my blazer sleeve with surprising strength.
“You came,” she whispered, her voice sugar-sweet for the benefit of the surrounding guests. “I knew you weren't serious. I told everyone you had a surprise planned.”
Her eyes dropped instantly to the manila folder tucked under my arm. Her smile flickered just a fraction. “What’s that?”
“Paperwork,” I said evenly.
My mother patted my arm with a manicured hand, though her grip remained uncomfortably tight. “Good girl. Just keep a smile on your face. When I call you up, keep it short and sweet. Everyone is so happy for you and Harper.”
She didn't wait for my answer. She turned away, smoothed down her designer skirt, and walked briskly toward the front of the room where a small wireless microphone sat on a podium beside the gift table.
She tapped a silver spoon against her champagne glass. Ting, ting, ting.
The ballroom chatter instantly died down. Forty faces turned toward the front of the room, expectant and smiling.
“Everyone,” my mother announced brightly, her voice carrying effortlessly across the sound system. “Before we cut the cake and open gifts, I want to invite my youngest daughter, Naomi, up here. She has a very special surprise announcement to share with all of us regarding the family’s living arrangements and her wonderful gift to Harper and Chase.”
Forty pairs of eyes shifted from my mother to where I stood near the back of the room.
Harper smiled radiantly from her velvet chair, glowing with anticipated victory. Chase straightened his jacket, looking smug and relieved. My mother looked out over the crowd with the absolute serenity of a general who had just won an uncontested siege.
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They still believed the room belonged to them. They still believed I was an actor in their script.
I didn't smile. I slowly stepped away from the wall, tucked the heavy manila folder firmly under my arm, and walked down the center aisle between the round tables, my boots clicking steadily against the polished floor.
