Every gathering followed the same pattern.
I bought everything.
Prepared everything.
Cooked everything.
Cleaned everything.
Marlene arrived with nothing.
Then complained.
MEMORIAL DAY WAS MY BREAKING POINT
A few weeks before the Fourth of July, Marlene called.
“Claire, darling! We’re all coming for Memorial Day!”
Not:
Would it be okay if we came?
Not:
Can we bring anything?
Just:
We’re coming.
“The kids have been talking about your ribs for weeks!”
Of course they had.
I bought the ribs.
Seasoned them overnight.
Smoked them for hours.
Made potato salad.
Corn.
Baked beans.
Lemonade.
Dessert.
Marlene’s contribution?
Criticism from my patio chair.
The moment she arrived at Willowcrest Farm, she walked into my living room and immediately frowned.
“You still have this sofa here?”
“Yes.”
She put both hands against it.
“Claire, it would look so much better facing the windows.”
“I actually like it there.”
“Trust me.”
