Damon sat at the kitchen table, running his finger along the edge of a printed menu he’d opened on his laptop. He straightened his collar, even though he was wearing only a gray T-shirt.
“Thirty-four dollars for a fried chicken,” Damon said, shaking his head. “In Oak Creek, Ohio. I guess they think people don’t know how much a chicken costs at the grocery store.”
“The kids chose it because of the patio,” I said, staring at the neck of the shirt. “They wanted something pretty for my fiftieth birthday.”
“They wanted something expensive,” he said. He tapped the screen. “And their father needs to get out his wallet. Jake is twenty-four, he should understand how a budget works by now.”
“Jake pays his share, Damon,” I said.
He didn’t look up from the screen. “He says yes. We’ll see who actually pays when the bill arrives.”
“He has a good job now,” I said.
“An entry-level marketing position in Columbus isn’t a career, Elena. It’s a starting job.” Damon slammed his laptop shut. “I just don’t want him wasting money trying to impress people.”
I set the iron down and smoothed my shirt sleeve one last time. “He’s trying to impress me.”
Damon didn’t answer. He stood up, took the hanger from my hand, and carried the shirt toward the hallway without thanking me.
By four o’clock, the iron had cooled and was returned to the pantry. I stood in the dining room, watching the dust motes float in the pale October sun. My phone vibrated on the sideboard.
It was a text from Jake. “I’m just leaving Columbus. We should be at the restaurant by 6:45. Are you leaving soon?”
My hand hovered over the keyboard. I knew how much work Jake had put into organizing this dinner with Lily and Noah. Lily had spent three weeks trying to find a table by the fireplace, and Noah had saved up his tips from the hardware store to buy a gift.
Damon entered the room, wearing a white shirt, but it was unbuttoned at the top. He glanced at his watch. “What are you looking at?”
“Jake,” I said. “I want to make sure we’re on our way.”
“He’s always checking on us,” Damon said, walking toward the bathroom. “Tell him we’ll get there when we get there.”
I wrote, “We’re getting ready. I can’t wait to see you.”
I went into the bedroom and closed the door. The house was silent, the only sound the faint hum of the heater in the hallway.
I reached into the back of the closet, past the dark wool coats and practical winter skirts, and pulled out a box of Evelyn’s dress shop. The tissues rustled loudly in the quiet room.
I pulled out my emerald dress and pressed it against me. It felt light, almost weightless, compared to the heavy cottons I usually wore.
I reached into my small jewelry box and pulled out my mother’s worn pearl earrings. They were small and slightly yellowed with age, but they were the only real jewelry I owned. I clipped them into my ears, the cold metal stinging my earlobes.
“You can do it,” I whispered to myself, staring at the wall. “It’s just a dress.”
I put on the green silk and pulled it over my shoulders. The zipper fastened easily, and the material clung tightly to my waist.
I left the bedroom, my heels clicking softly on the wooden floor.
Damon climbed the stairs, his tie still loosely tied around his neck. He stopped on the third step from the top, holding onto the banister. His gaze traveled from my shoes up to my neck, lingering there for a long moment.
“Are you seriously wearing that?” he asked. His voice was flat, devoid of warmth.
“Yes,” I said, smoothing my hands over my skirt. “I bought it last week.”
