Family photographs required coordinated colors.
Once, she asked Adrian to change his sweater at Thanksgiving because his navy shirt “fought with the dining-room centerpiece.”
I thought she was ridiculous.
Usually harmlessly ridiculous.
Three weeks before the wedding, she invited Adrian and me to dinner at her house in Bellmere.
I assumed she wanted to discuss table assignments.
Instead, halfway through dessert, she said:
“I wanted to ask about the ceremony.”
Adrian looked up.
“What about it?”
“The processional.”
Something in her tone made me put down my fork.
She smiled.
“Is Ethan still walking Claire?”
“Yes,” I said.
Margaret nodded slowly.
Then:
“I wondered if perhaps we should rethink that.”
I stared.
“Why?”
She took a sip of water.
“I’m only thinking practically.”
Adrian’s expression changed.
“Mom.”
“Let me finish.”
She looked at me.
“Ethan is obviously invited.”
The word obviously immediately irritated me.
“Nobody is suggesting otherwise.”
“Then what are you suggesting?”
She hesitated.
That was the moment she still had an opportunity to stop.
She didn’t.
“Perhaps your mother could walk you.”
“No.”
“Or you could walk alone.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“Ethan asked.”
“I said yes.”
“That’s decided.”
