My son said dinner was canceled, but when I got to the restaurant…

Edith Thornberry. Oh, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Thornberry. He became more respectful at once.

Please come in, your family is already here. My family, I thought bitterly as I entered the restaurant’s spacious lobby. The family that doesn’t want to see me, a family that lies to my face, but in just a moment they will see me, and it’s a night they’ll remember for a long time.

Because Edith Thornberry is not the kind of woman you can just throw out of your life like an old, unwanted thing. And it’s time my children realized that. I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and strode resolutely toward the main hall doors.

Standing at the main hall doors I stood still for a moment. The music, the laughter, the clinking of glasses, the sounds of merriment came even through the heavy oak doors. Just one step and I’d ruin their perfect evening.

Should I do it? Should I turn around and walk away with what little dignity I had left? But something inside me, some steel thread running through my life, wouldn’t let me do it. I’m not one to back down. I never have been.

Even when George died, leaving me alone with huge medical bills, I didn’t give up. I didn’t ask my kids for help, even though I could have. I did it on my own.

I can handle it now. But I wasn’t going to burst in there like a fury. No, that would have been too easy and predictable.

I wanted this evening to be a lesson to them. A lesson they would never forget. Mrs. Thornberry? A voice behind me made me flinch.

I turned around. Standing in front of me was a tall man in his sixties with a neatly trimmed gray beard and attentive gray eyes. He wore an impeccably tailored dark suit with a small gold pin in the shape of a willow branch, the restaurant symbol.

Lewis? I couldn’t believe my eyes. Lewis Quinlan? In person, he smiled, bowing slightly. I’m glad to see you remember me.

How could I forget? Lewis Quinlan was a Blue Springs legend, a former chef who opened the most successful restaurant in town. But to me, he’d always been the shy boy across the street who’d come over to borrow books and eat my blueberry pies. You haven’t changed at all, I said, though it wasn’t true.

The boy had grown into an imposing man. Time had left marks on his face, but his eyes, his eyes were the same. But you, Edith, have become even more beautiful, he replied with that special gallantry which does not look false.

Blue has always been your color. I touched the pearl necklace involuntarily. For the first time all evening, I did not feel like an angry old woman, but just a woman.

Are you alone? Lewis asked, glancing around the hall. I thought you were coming with your son and his family. They’re celebrating their anniversary today, aren’t they? Oh, so you know about that? I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.

Of course. I was personally involved in organizing their party. Thirty years is a big deal.

I wanted it to be perfect. I felt a lump come up in my throat. Lewis must have noticed the change in my face, because his smile was replaced by a look of concern.

Is something wrong, Edith? I wanted to lie, to say that nothing was wrong, that I was just late. But somehow I couldn’t. There were too many lies in that story already.

I wasn’t invited, Lewis, I said quietly. My son told me that the dinner had been canceled because his wife was ill. But I found out the truth by accident.

There was such genuine indignation on Lewis’s face that I felt a surge of gratitude. There must be some mistake, he said firmly. There must be a misunderstanding.

Wesley couldn’t. He could, I interrupted him. And he did.

I’ve seen them all through the window. They’re having a great time without me. Lewis frowned, his eyes darkening.

This is unacceptable, he said in a tone that brooked no objection. Absolutely unacceptable. He offered me his hand.

Let me show you out, Edith. The mother of the guest of honor should not stand in the hall. I hesitated.

It’s one thing to have a confrontation and quite another to drag a stranger into it. Lewis, I don’t want to cause problems for your restaurant. The only problem here is your lack of respect for your parents.

He cut him off. My restaurant is not a place where I would allow that, if I may. He offered me his hand again, and this time I took it.

His touch was warm and sure, like an anchor in a stormy sea. How do you want to do this? Lewis asked when we stopped at the hall door. Just walk in? Or I could organize something special.

I hesitated. I didn’t feel like making a scene. I didn’t feel like yelling or crying or blaming.

That would be too easy, too expected. They probably thought that if I found out the truth, I’d either burst into tears or cause a scandal. Either way, I could be accused of inadequacy, of senile hysteria.

No, I won’t give them that pleasure. I want to go in quietly, I said, like the honored guest I was supposed to be. No announcements, no fanfare, just… show up.

Lewis nodded understandingly. The perfect choice. Elegance is always more effective than drama.

He squeezed my hand lightly. Ready? I took a deep breath and nodded. Ready…