Draped in white fabric and soft gold lighting, with floral arrangements that must have cost a fortune on every table. White roses. White orchids. White peonies.
A jazz quartet played in the corner. Waiters in crisp uniforms circulated with champagne and hors d’oeuvres on silver trays.
I spotted Daniel near the bar, Vanessa attached to his arm in her skin-tight white dress that probably cost more than my car payment.
The dress was barely appropriate for an engagement party, more suited for a nightclub or a red carpet. But Vanessa wore it like armor, and every man in the room had noticed.
She saw me first, and I watched her lean up to whisper something in Daniel’s ear.
For just a second, I saw something cross his face. Not pleasure at seeing his mother. Something else.
I walked over, holding the small gift bag with Vanessa’s bracelet. My heels clicked on the marble floor, too loud, announcing my approach.
“Hi, sweetheart. Congratulations again.”
I reached to hug Daniel, but Vanessa stepped between us, smooth as a dancer.
“You made it.”
That was the first cut.
Not, “We’re so glad you’re here.”
Like my presence was uncertain.
Several of her friends standing nearby heard it, and I saw their eyes flick between us.
“I said I would,” I replied, keeping my smile steady even as my chest tightened.
“Daniel, you look handsome.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
He just stared at his drink like it contained the secrets of the universe.
“Vanessa, this is for you.” I handed her the gift bag. “Welcome to the family.”
She opened it right there, in front of everyone. Her lips pursed in what might have been a smile but looked more like disappointment.
“Jewelry. Traditional.”
Without even taking it out of the box, she said, “I need to greet the Hendersons.”
Traditional.
The word hung in the air like an insult.
One of her friends, a blonde woman in head-to-toe Prada, snickered.
Daniel took the box, but he didn’t say anything. Didn’t say, “Mom, thank you,” or, “Vanessa, that was rude.”
The next hour was torture.
The crowd was split into two groups: Vanessa’s people and Daniel’s colleagues from work.
Polished women in designer clothes who looked at me like I was an interesting artifact they might find in a museum.
When I said I was retired, I could see them mentally categorizing me.
Unimportant. Not worth their time.
Daniel’s work colleagues were polite but distant. They clearly knew Vanessa better than they knew me, and they gravitated to her side of the room.
I watched my son work the crowd, shaking hands, laughing at jokes, her body angled possessively against his.
Cold, wealthy people who barely acknowledged me beyond a brief handshake.
Her father, Preston, looked like money personified. Silver hair. Expensive suit.