“You criticized the seating.”
“I asked why my place card had been moved away from Marcus.”
“You said the centerpiece blocked your view.”
“It did.”
“You complained about the wine.”
“I said I don’t drink merlot.”
Amber’s voice rose.
“You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make little comments.”
Ruth considered it.
“That may be true.”
Amber looked startled again.
Ruth continued.
“I can be particular. I can correct too much. I have sometimes treated you as if you were still a guest in a family you married into fifteen years ago.”
Marcus looked at his mother.
Amber remained silent.
Ruth said, “None of that placed your hand on my plate.”
Amber’s eyes dropped.
“No.”
“None of that made you tell me to eat in a bathroom.”
“No.”
“Then apologize for the thing you did. Do not hide it behind the things I did.”
Amber’s mouth trembled.
She nodded.
The dining room was quieter when they returned.
Some guests had already put on coats but lingered awkwardly near the bar.
Marcus’s employees looked uncertain whether they were allowed to leave.
Ruth walked to the center of the room.
Amber stayed beside her.
Marcus stood behind them.
Ruth did not speak.
This was not her apology.
Amber looked at fifty-three faces.
Then at Ruth.
“I owe Mrs. Carter an apology.”
Ruth’s eyebrows lifted.
Not Mom.
Not Ruth.
Mrs. Carter.
