“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Ali told the noisy animal. Knowing full well the kitchen counter wasn’t Sam-proof, she stowed the casserole in the microwave and deposited the evening’s salads in the fridge. Then she headed into her room to shower and change clothes.
When she came out half an hour later, she was surprised to see that Chris had set the table-for three rather than two. The table was decked out in his mother’s good china, complete with crystal wineglasses. He had also heated the casserole and opened a bottle of Paul Grayson’s high-end wine-a Corton-Charlemagne from Côte d’Beaune.
“What’s the occasion?” Ali asked.
Chris shrugged. “I invited Athena to come to dinner,” he said. “Hope you don’t mind.”
When Ali had first heard about Athena Carlson, she had been a little dismayed. Athena was several years older than Chris and divorced. She was also a double amputee, having lost part of her right arm and most of her right leg, compliments of an exploding IED during a Minnesota National Guard deployment to Iraq.
Ali had always hoped her son would find the “perfect” girl. Initially Athena hadn’t quite squared with Ali’s idea of perfection. Over the months, though, Ali had come to see Athena really was perfect. Her midwestern small-town roots and rock-solid values provided just the right counterpoint to Chris’s artistic temperament and occasionally unrealistic enthusiasm. And Ali had nothing but respect for the way Athena focused on what she could do rather than on what she couldn’t. One of the things that fell in the “could” column was her ability to play a mean game of one-handed basketball.
“You should have called me,” Ali said. “If I had known we were having company, I would have picked up something a little nicer than enchilada casserole.”
“That’s all right,” Chris said. “Athena’s not picky.”
Ali knew that to be true, and as far as she was concerned, it was another mark in Athena’s favor.
The doorbell rang, and Chris hurried to answer it. Athena stepped into the house. Underneath a pair of slacks, her high-tech prosthetic leg was all but invisible. The complicated device on her right hand was more apparent. Smiling and laughing, she entered the room and kissed Chris hello. When the two of them turned to face Ali, Athena’s face was awash in happiness. Without a word, she held up her left hand, showing off a respectably sized diamond ring.
“He gave it to me last night,” Athena said as Ali stepped forward to admire it. “I didn’t wear it to school today. We wanted you to be the first to know.”
“Congratulations!” Ali exclaimed, giving first Athena and then her son a hug.
“You’re sort of the first to know,” Chris admitted. “It’s actually Aunt Evie’s diamond. Grandma gave it to me so I could have it reset. But Grandma and Grandpa haven’t seen it this way yet, and they don’t know I’ve given it to her. You really are the first.”
Ali couldn’t help feeling slightly provoked that her parents knew more about her son than she did. Some of the irritation must have shown on her face.
“You’re not upset about that, are you, Ali?” Athena asked warily.
Ali pulled herself together and laughed it off. “Not at all,” she managed. “My mother always seems to know exactly what’s going to happen long before anyone else does. I’m thrilled for you both.”
Chris and Athena exchanged relieved looks. Obviously, they had been concerned about how Ali might react.
Ali moved over to the table, picked up the wine bottle, and began to pour. “How about a toast to the newly engaged couple?” she said enthusiastically. “I think you both deserve it.”
Dinner was a lighthearted, fun affair. Athena, more radiant than Ali had ever seen her, was full of plans for the future. No, they hadn’t set a date yet. Most likely, they’d get married after school got out at the end of May, possibly early in June.
“A small wedding,” Athena said. “Maybe outside, with red rocks in the background and just family and a few friends in attendance. I already had the whole full-meal-deal church wedding with a white dress, half a dozen attendants, and a reception that cost my dad a bundle. Unfortunately, we all know how that one turned out.”
For the first time that evening, a shadow crossed Athena’s smiling face. Her husband had ditched her while she was in Walter Reed, recovering from her injuries. And since he and his second wife were now living in what had once been Athena’s hometown, Ali understood completely why Athena had no desire to go “back home” for a second wedding.
Ali thought about the gnarled wisteria that shaded the patio at the house on Manzanita Hills Road. In May the venerable old plant would most likely be dripping with clusters of lush lavender blossoms, something that would make a perfect backdrop for a wedding. But she had the good sense to keep her mouth shut. After all, this was Athena and Chris’s wedding. As mother of the groom, Ali needed to keep her opinions to herself.
“Your folks won’t mind coming out?” she asked.
“My grandmother had never been on an airplane until she flew to D.C. to stay with me at Walter Reed.” Athena grinned. “If she could fly for that, she can certainly fly for this.”
“What about your parents?” Ali asked.
“My grandmother’s the only one I really care about,” Athena said.
Ali decided she was better off not asking anything more.
“We’re going to have a little get-together at the gym tomorrow night before the game, and we’d like you to come,” Chris put in quickly, diverting them from what was evidently dodgy territory. “About seven-thirty. We plan to go public with our engagement then. I’ll invite Grandpa and Grandma. Athena’s roommates will be there, along with the people in our basketball league.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Ali assured them.
“It won’t be much of a party,” Athena said. “No champagne in the high school gym. We’ll be drinking Hawaiian Punch and eating storebought cookies.”
“I still wouldn’t miss it,” Ali said.
After dinner, when Athena left, Chris went out with her, ostensibly to walk her to the car. Ali knew that was bogus, of course. The process was likely to involve far more necking than it did walking and would last an hour or more. In the meantime, Ali cleared the table, put away the leftovers, and then hand-washed the china and crystal.
Standing with her hands and forearms plunged deep in soapy water, Ali recalled how she had chosen the Royal Limoges Beleme pattern at Paul Grayson’s behest right after the two of them had become engaged. She had loved the creamy color of the delicate bone china and the subtle, understated designs around the borders. Ali had imagined using those gorgeous dishes as she presided over a lifetime’s worth of joyous meals, complete with family and friends.
But the reality had been far different, more hell than heaven. The meals she had hosted with Paul, the ones where the dishes had been used, hadn’t turned out to be what Ali had hoped for or expected. Yes, Paul Grayson had loved entertaining and had done so lavishly, but there had been an element of one-upmanship in everything he did. Dinner guests were invited because of who they knew or what they had to offer in terms of deal making. Places at his table were generally assigned based on who could provide the best political advantage at work. For him love had counted far less than leverage.
On this occasion, an inexpensive and simple meal-reheated deli food-had been served to guests in a mobile home that had once belonged to Aunt Evie, someone Paul, in his arrogance, had summarily dismissed as mere “trailer trash.” Ali found herself smiling at the irony. Paul Grayson’s command-performance entertaining was far in the past, and tonight’s low-key celebration had fulfilled Ali’s long-ago dream of how those lovely but costly dishes would be used.