“How’s the
celebration coming along?” she asked.
“Everything’s ready.”
“I saw Camille’s pictures online.”
I looked down at my cup.
“She certainly seems to be taking credit for a lot of work.”
I remained silent.
Ruth set down her tea.
“Olivia, tell me something. Who paid for that beautiful room?”
I hesitated.
“I did.”
“And the decorations?”
“Me.”
“The flowers?”
“Me.”
“The food and champagne?”
“It’s being charged to my card.”
She watched me quietly.
Then she asked another question.
“Do you know what I’ve noticed about this family?”
I shook my head.
“They’ve become so accustomed to you carrying every responsibility that they’ve stopped noticing the weight you’re holding.”
My throat tightened.
“I don’t mind helping.”
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Ruth reached across the table and touched my hand.
“Yes, sweetheart. You do mind. You’ve simply spent so many years pretending otherwise that you’ve almost convinced yourself.”
