Every unnecessary trip to the store.
Mom hadn’t simply been serving them because she was incapable of saying no.
She had been auditioning.
Trying to earn a place inside my new family.
“The sheets,” I said.
Mom smiled tiredly.
“The sheets.”
“The expensive mayonnaise.”
“Susan likes it.”
“The peach cobbler every Saturday because Richard once said he liked peach cobbler.”
Richard looked up.
“You make that every week because of me?”
“You said you liked it.”
Richard looked horrified.
“I was just being polite.”
Mom stared at him.
Then started laughing.
For some reason, we all almost did.
But when her laughter faded, she said quietly,
“Every time your cars pulled into the driveway, I thought I had done something right.”
Susan went pale.
“Maggie, I thought you genuinely enjoyed all this.”
“I do enjoy taking care of people.”
Mom looked straight at her.
Then she said the sentence I still remember.
“I like taking care of people, Susan. I don’t like being taken for granted. Those are not the same thing.”
Nobody had anything to say after that.
Susan stared toward the corner of the deck.
Toward six blue boxes filled with red geraniums.
At five that afternoon, Susan walked into the kitchen.
