Page 31 of Forever My Soldier

“Who is going to coordinate, though?” I heard Betty ask. Betty was one of my mother’s closest friends and lived for the DAR.

A newcomer suggested, “Perhaps my daughter can do it. She’s still in undergrad, but she’s going into event management and this would look great on her resume.”

My mother cleared her throat. “I don’t think that’s the best idea. You’ve never been to one of our events and neither has she. These are important functions. People expect them to be a certain way.”

Before this could turn into something it wasn’t supposed to be, I tried to get the conversation back on track. “Event coordinator aside, we have other problems, like how we can’t get an adequate venue to host that many people and on such short notice. We really didn’t leave ourselves many options by picking such a close date. I have an idea. What if we do it here, Mother?”

She beamed as if I gave her the greatest compliment in the world, which to her I probably just did. “Why, I think that’s a marvelous idea!”

I nodded, pleased with myself. “Thank you. You—”

“And you’ll host it,” she continued as if I wasn’t speaking.

I nearly choked on my own saliva. Suddenly my mouth was very dry. “Wha— I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s settled, then,” Betty decided, moving right past my aneurism.

“No, I can’t possibly—” my words fell on deaf ears, though.

My mother ended the meeting. “Thank you all for coming. I’d say this was another successful meeting.”

Not exactly how I’d put it.

She stood and ushered the ladies out.

When everyone was gone, I picked up my pink lemonade and took a sip, still reeling from her declaration.

Before I could enjoy any more of it, though, and with my mouth still on the straw, she grabbed the glass from me and I nearly spilled it on myself. Thankfully, there was a napkin in my lap.

“You don’t need the added sugar,” she said by way of explanation.

I rolled my eyes and went for it again. “I think I’ll take my chances.”

Unrelenting, she pulled it away, and called Greta’s name, who showed up in an instant. “Can you please take this to the kitchen?”

Greta took the glass and left. I had to wonder why she couldn’t be like the other housekeepers my mother had in the past—slow.

When my mother sat back down, she glared at me with an eerie look and I nearly shivered even though it was hotter than the underworld out and I was wearing a sleeveless blouse. “What now, Mother?”

“Nothing,” she said, still beaming. “I’m just so happy you’ll be working on this event. It’ll be wonderful,” she gushed, but it felt just a tad bit forced.

“You know, you really should have asked me before volunteering me to coordinate this event.”

“I’ll do it with you, dear,” she said, as though that was a comforting thought. It wasn’t.

“I have enough on my plate at work. Dad’s not going to want me pulled in a million different directions.”

She rolled her eyes. “You can be so dramatic, Jenna. It’s just one little party. I’ll help and it’ll practically plan itself. You’ll see. It’ll be an opportunity for us to get closer, really bond.”

“Sure,” was all I could manage because I had no idea what she was thinking. She had never really wanted me to be close to her, more like wanted me to do everything she said when she said it.

“In fact, I have a marvelous idea,” she announced. “I think you’ll like it, too.”

“Why do I doubt it? Usually your ideas give me hives.”

“Funny,” she replied. “But, no, this might be the best one yet.”

“Let’s hear it, then.” I crossed one leg over the other and bounced my foot in the air.

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