When he proposed to Claire, she called me before anyone else.
“Mom,” she said, laughing and crying simultaneously, “I said yes.”
I sat on the edge of my bed and cried harder than she did.
***
Three months later, Luca’s parents flew from Belgium to meet us. Claire and Luca rented a lake house near Lake George for Memorial Day weekend. It had cedar floors, enormous windows, and a stone fireplace that made the place look more luxurious than it probably was.
I arrived carrying flowers, fresh bread, and a bottle of Finger Lakes Riesling. I could not imagine arriving empty-handed. Offer something useful first, and perhaps nobody will question why you belong. That was another lesson marriage had taught me.
Hélène Beaumont greeted me in cream linen trousers and a pale blue silk blouse. Her silver-blond hair rested perfectly at her jaw.
“Margaret,” she said. “At last.”
Something about the phrase caught my attention. Not *nice to meet you*. Not *welcome*. *At last.*
But then she smiled, and I dismissed it.
Philippe Beaumont stood behind her, silver-haired and elegant in a navy blazer. His handshake was firm. His confidence was effortless. He wore a gold signet ring engraved with a small geometric crest. I noticed it only because I had spent too many years teaching students to notice details.
Dinner began beautifully.
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