The Luncheon Falls Silent
About an hour later, my fiancé texted me.
Did you send food to Mom’s luncheon?
Something like that, I replied.
Several minutes passed.
Then another message appeared.
She thought it was expensive catering. She opened it in front of everyone.
I could imagine Clarissa standing proudly at the head of the table, expecting admiration.
What happened? I asked.
The typing symbol appeared, vanished, and appeared again.
Nobody knows what to say.
A moment later, another text arrived.
Mrs. Donnelly picked up the invoice. They’re passing it around.
I leaned back in my chair.
For the first time since my mother’s phone call, I felt my anger begin to settle.
Another message appeared.
They found the Christmas pictures.
Then:
Someone just asked whether your mother really paid $1,700 while Mom ate steak and lobster.
