Not out of snobbery. It was simply how her mind worked. She noticed numbers and details. The jacket was modest, the Casio watch inexpensive, and the car old but decently maintained.
Still, she said nothing, because she understood that none of that really mattered. Andrew had no idea that inside her purse was the latest smartphone. He didn’t know that the spacious condo near downtown was hers outright, no mortgage. He didn’t know that her salary hit her account like clockwork every month.
He had no idea she could have bought him a much better car without even denting her savings. But she never would have done that. It would have bruised his pride and probably scared him off. And now the day had come when things were finally going to become clear.
This was the day she met his parents. Marianne had decided they would see a simple woman from out of town—plain hands, cheap jacket, rented room, tight budget. She wanted to see how they spoke to her, how they looked at her, whether they offered kindness, and whether what mattered most was her character or her status.
After that, she planned to decide what came next. Maybe she’d tell the truth and watch their faces change. Or maybe she’d kiss Andrew on the cheek and leave without explaining a thing. In the elevator, Andrew held her hand tightly, as if he needed the contact.
“Don’t worry,” he said quietly. “My mom can be a little strict, but she’s a good person. It’ll be fine.” Marianne nodded, hiding a faint smile in the collar of her jacket.
There was no backing out now. All that remained was to ring the bell. Behind that door waited his whole family—parents and sister—ready to meet her and decide what they thought.
Marianne pressed the doorbell. It rang with that long, old-fashioned buzz some apartments still have, and the door opened almost immediately. On the threshold stood Lydia—rosy-cheeked, full-figured, wearing round glasses and a bright floral house robe.
Her hair was up in rollers, and on her feet were fuzzy slippers with pom-poms. Her eyes were warm, but there was also that unmistakable mother’s look—the one that takes in every detail in a second. “Oh, honey, you’re so thin!” she exclaimed, pulling Marianne into such a hearty hug that she nearly lost her breath.
“Come in, come in. Don’t stand there.” The apartment smelled so good and so homey that Marianne paused in the doorway. Fried potatoes, roast chicken, fresh rolls, and a pot of soup that had clearly been simmering for hours all blended into one wonderful cloud of comfort.
The big oval kitchen table, covered in a vinyl tablecloth, was loaded down with food. There were bowls of potato salad, pickles, marinated mushrooms, deviled eggs, slaw, a casserole dish, a roast, and a grocery-store layer cake with chopped walnuts on top. The old chandelier above them had only half its bulbs working, but somehow that made the kitchen feel even cozier.
Lydia sat Marianne right beside her, close enough that there was hardly room to shift. She tucked her in as if afraid the girl might bolt. Then she launched into questions.
She asked them kindly, in that familiar family way, but with enough attention that Marianne had the distinct feeling every word and gesture was being weighed. “So tell me, sweetheart, where are you from?” Lydia asked, nudging the plate of rolls closer. Marianne lowered her eyes, folded her hands in her lap like a schoolgirl, and answered more softly than usual.
She made sure her voice sounded shy and a little uncertain. “A small town. Couple hours out. The kind of place where everybody knows everybody.”
“Oh good, one of our own,” Lydia said with obvious relief. “I was afraid Andrew had brought home another high-maintenance city girl. You know the type—duck lips, nails a mile long, purse worth more than my car.”
She waved the image away and added more gently, “But you—you seem down-to-earth. We moved here from a small town ourselves years ago. So I get it.”
Andrew sat beside them glowing like a boy who had just been told he’d done something right. His eyes shone, his cheeks were pink, and he looked absurdly pleased with himself. As if, in his own mind, he had just scored a major win…
