Free Allure of Deceit by Susan Froetschel Page B

2:195

CHAPTER 5
    The table was set three days before Canadian Thanksgiving—all that was left to add was a small bouquet, candlelight, and, of course, the meal itself.
    Lydia last met her daughter-in-law’s parents at the memorial service that followed much too soon after the wedding. So much time had passed, but she impulsively sent an e-mail, tentatively suggesting the gathering in East Lansing, and the couple surprised her with their eagerness. They also agreed to bring photographs.
    The three parents shared a bond. Lydia’s only son had married an only daughter. Michael and Rose each had an independent streak, ready to separate from their parents and find a love that would rival that of their parents. Michael had once admitted to feeling like the odd man out, growing up with parents who had remained the best of friends: “It was lonely at times because both of you were so close.” He wanted nothing more than to follow his parents in finding his own best friend for sharing dreams, secrets, and love.
    Sitting in a dark room, with a glass of wine, Lydia remembered so many conversations and jotted notes on what she should share. The memories were bittersweet, and the plans offered a hint of anticipation that she had once felt when waiting to join her husband at the end of the workday or receive a telephone call from her son.

    Rose’s parents, Rebecca and Tim, drove from Toronto to spend Monday with Lydia. The turkey was in the oven, the rest of the meal was prepared, and Lydia just had to switch on burners. The sky was perfect, the air crisp as leaves danced about the streets. Lydia had borrowed extra bikes from friends for a quick tour of campus and the small town before tackling final preparations for the meal. The streets were free of traffic, though plenty of people their age were out, taking advantage of one of the year’s last golden days. Trails linked a charming campus with meadows and parks, and the couple expressed pleased surprise over the small-town atmosphere and the solid oaks, maples, hickories, and beech arching over the Red Cedar River and Grand River Avenue.
    Returning home, they opened champagne and shared tasks of chopping, slicing, spreading, and mashing—and all three admitted their amazement that it wasn’t so hard to talk for hours about memories of two grown children.
    Rebecca mentioned that Thanksgiving was Rose’s favorite holiday and Lydia smiled. “Michael’s, too,” she said. “And when Rose told him it was her favorite, Michael said that was when he knew she was the one.”
    Tears glistened in their eyes more than once, but there were also plenty of smiles. The dinner was perfect, delicious, the cleanup fast. Tim tended the fire. They piled photograph albums on the coffee table and took turns slowly turning pages that documented their children’s lives. Most of Michael’s shots were outdoors, the boy muddy, climbing trees, or organizing a group of neighborhood children for parades, alien battles, or hiking expeditions. A tiny Rose was featured in modern dance recitals, choral groups, reading competitions with a dreamy attitude that later gave way to a steely determination in graduate school.
    More than once, the parents murmured how the two were a perfect couple, lucky to have met one another and enjoyed success. “We should have done this sooner.” Rebecca was abrupt, apologizing to Lydia for not extending their own invitation and not taking a more active interest in the foundation named after the couple.
    Lydia understood the reticence and shook her head. “There is no need for an apology. We needed time.” She did not bring up her failure to invite them to participate in the foundation or her resentment. Rebecca and Tim still had each other while she was completely alone. She gently steered the subject in another direction. “I was surprised that Michael and Rose had thought so far ahead about starting