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My fingers tightened around the cup.
“Joyce invited several friends. Agnes served Joyce first, then her friends, then the other children.”
I stared at Ruth.
“Margaret reached for a piece.”
Ruth’s voice softened.
“And Agnes caught her wrist.”
I already knew what came next.
But I couldn’t stop listening.
“She told your mother not to be
greedy because she hadn’t paid for the cake.”
The room went completely quiet.
I slowly set down my cup.
Ruth continued.
“By the time your mother was served, only a small corner piece remained. There were no roses left on it.”
I covered my mouth.
It was my birthday.
My ninth birthday.
The same words.
The same humiliation.
Even the same kind of cake.
I shook my head.
“That can’t be…”
Ruth reached across the table.
“When Margaret was nineteen, she sat right here and promised me she’d never treat her own children the way Agnes treated her.”
