Susan’s tone was syrupy sweet, which in Emily’s experience always meant trouble. On ordinary days, the woman called only to complain about politics, talk about her blood pressure, or offer unsolicited criticism. Once she confirmed Emily was home, Susan began circling toward her real point.
She casually mentioned internet problems “you young people always seem to have” and then brightly announced that Aunt Nina was visiting. She insisted the two of them come over right away for coffee and homemade treats. Emily knew perfectly well that Mike hadn’t made a proper family visit with her in ages.
His secret supply runs with bags of groceries did not count as family time. Emily said Mike was still asleep, but Susan sweetly instructed her to wake him up at once. This was a family occasion, she said, and the visiting aunt wanted to see them both.
Emily looked over at her husband, still snoring peacefully, and agreed to be there in an hour. She walked to the bed, shook Mike awake, and told him to get dressed—they were going to his mother’s house. He squinted at her, confused and cranky, and tried to protest the whole idea.
But the mention of Aunt Nina and the promise of a full table worked instantly. Mike was out of bed in a flash. For the first time in days, he shaved, put on a pressed button-down shirt, and acted almost cheerful. On the drive over, he was suspiciously upbeat and full of opinions.
He drove Emily’s sedan, as he often did, despite the fact that it was her car. He talked about how his mother had probably realized she’d made mistakes and wanted to smooth things over. He even scolded Emily for being too hard on an older woman who, in his words, just needed care and understanding.
Emily stared out the window at the dull suburban streets sliding by under a hazy morning sky. Strangely, she felt light. The decision had already been made. All that remained was to follow through.
Susan’s house greeted them with the smell of fresh baking and furniture polish. As it turned out, visiting Aunt Nina had a habit of shining her shoes until they gleamed. Susan herself—a heavyset woman with carefully sprayed hair and a dramatic sense of hospitality—kissed her son on both cheeks and gave Emily a cool nod.
Aunt Nina was tiny, wiry, and sharp-eyed enough to make anyone sit up straighter. Susan threw up her hands theatrically, called Mike the family provider, and seated him at the head of the table. Then she clucked over how thin he looked and asked Emily, with pointed concern, whether she was feeding her husband properly.
Emily smiled politely and said Mike was apparently following a cutting-edge diet for crypto investors. Mike gave a strained little laugh and began piling a mountain of meat salad onto his plate. The spread on the table was impressive: golden hand pies, aspic, sliced meats, and all the trimmings.
Emily immediately recognized the platter of thinly sliced smoked sausage. She had bought that for herself for an upcoming birthday dinner just three days away. Beside it sat a wedge of expensive blue cheese and an untouched jar of salmon roe…
