Page 90 of Legally Ours

"Skylar, for goodness' sake, stop fidgeting with your foot!" Bubbe snapped. "That's why your shoes are always scuffed like a bum's. Now look at me in the eye, and tell me this again. What confirmation?"

I sighed again and faced my tiny, yet incredibly intimidating grandmother. Even Jane had nothing to say as her fascinated gaze bounced between us, and Gloria was suddenly engrossed with her phone.

"It's just for show," I said lamely.

"But-but you're Jewish!" Bubbe sputtered. "How can you cross over? Just like that?" She snapped her papery fingers with a pop that cracked through the air.

"Bubbe, I am not Jewish," I protested weakly.

"You're my granddaughter. That makes you as Jewish as anyone."

"Bubbe, you're Conservative," I pointed out. "You have literally never called me Jewish until exactly this moment."

"I took you to temple all the time."

"You took me to temple maybe five times in my life. The only thing that makes me Jewish is growing up with your cooking."

We were both exaggerating, I knew. She had never had that much investment in my religious preferences beyond occasionally wanting to set me up with nice Jewish boys. And I probably identified with it more than anything else simply from growing up around her.

Before Bubbe could answer, Jenna popped out with a bright smile on her face.

"All right, ladies, let's get started! Who's got some gorgeous gowns picked out?" she asked in a sing-song voice that withered once Bubbe and I both turned our glares on her.

Jane cleared her throat. "Just call us the Macbeth witches instead. 'Double, double, toil and trouble,' and all that."

"Um, all right then," Jenna said, confused as she took a seat on the tufted ottoman in front of me. While I avoided the daggers of guilt from my grandmother, Jenna paged through a Vogue Weddings magazine with me.

"Let's talk about what you like," she said. "How excited are you for your wedding?! Gloria mentioned that you were planning a traditional wedding at Holy Cross. What a beautiful venue!"

I tried to look excited while beside me, Bubbe scowled.

"It is a lovely venue," Jane piped up. "So many...pillars."

I shot her a dirty look, and she stuck out her tongue. She was enjoying this way too much.

"The venue itself is worth celebrating, don't you think?" she asked Jenna sweetly. "Maybe with champagne? Or, you know, anything alcoholic? We'll take moonshine if that's all you have."

Jenna perked up. "Oh! Would you like some champagne? I hadn't thought, since it's so early––"

"We would," Jane cut her off. Then, as an afterthought: "Please."

Jenna scurried off to dig up the drinks while I paged through the magazine and Bubbe glowered. Finally, I sighed up at the ceiling and set the magazine aside.

"Bubbe," I said. "Please. Can you just...let it go?"

Bubbe opened her mouth, clearly ready to release the onslaught of commentary that had been building up for the last ten minutes. But something on my face stopped her, and she closed her mouth with a look that was significantly more sympathetic.

"Will the reception be kosher?" she asked at last.

I cracked a smile, and I could hear Jane mutter, "thank God" to herself behind me.

"Of course," I said as I kissed my grandmother on the cheek. "I wouldn't have it any other way. You got that, Gloria? I want the reception to be kosher. Bubbe's in charge of planning food."

"Finally, a detail I can work with," Gloria said with a smile. "You and I are going to get to know each other very well, Sarah."

"I guess this is what I get for encouraging a relationship with a goy," Bubbe muttered as she picked up a magazine. "Oh, Skylar, look at that one! I tell you, bubbela, you have to get one with a beaded bodice. I always wanted a dress like that!"

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