For a moment, she stared at it.
Then her smile faded.
“Is this homemade?”
Eleanor nodded proudly.
“Yes. I thought the embroidery would look lovely on your table.”
Vanessa unfolded one corner.
Then she laughed.
“Robert, seriously? You couldn’t just buy something from a designer?”
My wife’s cheeks turned pink.
“I wanted to give you something personal.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“We’ve spent thousands decorating this house. We can’t cover expensive furniture with something that looks like it came from a craft fair.”
A few guests exchanged uncomfortable glances.
Eleanor’s smile disappeared.
“Oh,” she whispered. “I understand.”
Daniel gave a small laugh.
“Mom, Vanessa hired a professional interior designer. Everything has to match.”
I looked at my son.
He knew how much effort his mother had put into that gift.
He’d watched her sew since he was a little boy.
Yet he said nothing kind.
