“Happy birthday, sweetheart!”
Mom lit up. Honestly, it was hard to stay suspicious when she looked at him like that.
Richard stood there with a dozen roses.
***
Dinner went beautifully.
Richard told a story about mistaking a zucchini for a cucumber at the gardening club and slicing it into a salad that nearly killed a man’s taste buds. Mom laughed so hard she snorted, which she hadn’t done since Dad was alive.
Then she brought out the pie.
“Chocolate pie,” she announced. “I made it because my boyfriend said it was his favorite.”
Richard’s face changed into something complicated. Grateful. Guilty. Trapped.
Mom laughed so hard she snorted.
He checked his watch.
7:26 p.m.
“Grace, I am so sorry, sweetheart. I have to go.”
The room went quiet. Mom’s smile didn’t disappear all at once. It faded in stages, as if somebody were slowly turning down a dimmer.
“Can’t you stay for 10 minutes? It’s my birthday, Richard.”
