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I look down at my casual jeans and t-shirt and shrug.
“You’re the one who is arranging the marriage of a college freshman, mom. I thought I should look the part.”
She scowls at me and tosses me a tube of lipstick. I make no move to catch it and we both watch as it falls to the floor.
“Don’t be a brat, Christina. I can’t handle it today.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. She can’t handle it today?
“You look fine, mom, very chic for selling off your only daughter.”
She rolls her eyes. “We’re meeting Victoria at The Grove,” she tells me, “It’s the best restaurant in town and I will not be embarrassed by you acting out, do you understand me?”
I give her a tight smile and nod. I make no promises.
If she wants a submissive daughter who is happy to go through with this, she’s barking up the wrong tree.
“Let’s just get this over with,” I say instead, following her down the steps and through the house.
***
The server at The Grove leads us to a patio table set a little way away from everyone else. It’s private enough to talk but still visible enough to see and be seen.
I shove my sunglasses on and sit in the corner. It’s the perfect spring day – warm and sunny with a light breeze and birds chirping in the trees.
How wonderful for the weather to cooperate for the worst day of my life.
I feel jittery. My emotions are all over the place. Sad, hopeful, full of rage? I feel it all.
Mom and I sit in silence as we wait for Jimmy’s mother to join us. I have no idea what to expect with her. I know Jimmy comes from a wealthy family and his father is a senator. I think I’ve even seen a few pictures of his family at various events, but I won’t know just how bad his mom is until I meet her in person.
Is she okay with this entire thing? An arranged marriage for her son? What is she getting out of this?
Soon, the server leads two more women our way. Victoria Cosa is easy to spot. She looks like the perfect trophy wife.
Her outfit is pristine, her jewelry is glittering, and her attitude is lethal. The other woman with her looks like a business associate in a smart black pant suit and is carrying a folder.
My mother and I stand to greet them, each taking our turn to offer half-hugs and air kisses.
I struggle to not recoil in disgust, offering a grim smile as she pulls away.
It’s a charade and I hate that we have to play it.
“Sit, sit,” she says, gesturing towards the table.
I don’t like the way her cold eyes sweep over my outfit, lingering on the school logo on my polo shirt.
She hates us. I was not her first choice – and likely not her last. Interesting.
I hate her too.
My mother throws me a look and I do what I’m told. I edge my chair away from the table, eager for some space.
“Meredith, Christina,” Victoria says, her lips curve around my name as if it tastes bad in her mouth. “This is Clara.”
Clara holds out her hand for me to shake. So she must already know my mother.
I look at my mom but she won’t meet my gaze.
