“Don’t worry about it. Me and Tommy took care of everything. Brandi! Look at you! I love this dress, and your hair looks so pretty that way,” I said, hoping to disparage the negative thoughts she’d voiced when she was coming up the back walk. She really was a gorgeous girl. Dark-skinned, and fine boned with big, upturned eyes, and tiny little chin that gave her face a doll-like appearance. I knew how it felt to have a mother-in-law who disapproved, and I didn’t want to put her through that. Besides, she really was a lovely girl. I decided to make more of an effort to connect with her today. And it would be a good distraction.

“I love your dress, too!” Brandi said, a nervous smile playing on her lips.

I could feel Tommy’s eyes on me as I escorted Brandi inside. It took everything in me not to return that look. To offer him some sort of comfort after the way our conversation ended. I knew he felt sore about it, but what could I possibly say to soothe him? Nothing I said was untrue. We couldn’t have each other, so we both just needed to accept that.

“You know… I think it’s officially mimosa o’clock. What do you think?”

An hour later, my parents, my sisters, and my in-laws had arrived, and I was trying my best to get everyone fed and situated.

“Well, I thought this was a sit-down breakfast,” Lillian, my mother-in-law, complained as she stood in the buffet line that we’d created.

I was never really sure how to handle this relationship. Are your in-laws still your in-laws when your husband is dead? took a deep breath and barely refrained from rolling my eyes. “I can make your plate for you,” I offered, attempting to be generous.

“No, thank you. I was just commenting on what I expected.”

“I see. Well, I’m hosting a lot of things this weekend with very little help, so I figured a buffet was fine for today. I thought it would be nice to have a more intimate setting for family as well.”

“Well, it’s definitely intimate,” the older woman groused, and I decided to leave the conversation there and grab another mimosa.

“Everything looks beautiful, Ms. MacFarland,” Brandi said as she sat down next to Jared with her plate.

The table I’d rented for this brunch was covered with white cloths. The floral centerpieces were made with flowers from my garden, lilacs, and hydrangeas, mostly because Brandi said they were her favorite.

“Thank you, sweet girl,” I said, and the smile I gave her didn’t feel forced this time.

“Really, Darcy. You have a lovely home,” Joseph, Brandi’s father, said. “And a really beautiful garden.”

“Absolutely beautiful,” her mother Denise added. “But it seems like a lot of work.”