My hand shook as I held the champagne flute, so I put it down on the white linen tablecloth before anyone could see. My hands still gave me away when I felt frightened, even though I was 68 years old. I smoothed out the navy dress I bought just for this event. It was the prettiest thing in my closet, and I bought it on sale three months ago when I got the wedding invitation. In the department store mirror, it looked classy, but here, among women in expensive gowns that cost more than my monthly pension, it seemed terribly inadequate.
The
I walked her down the long center aisle of the great ballroom of the Ashworth estate, knowing that hundreds of people were watching me. The whispers started almost right away, spreading through the crowd like wind through fields of wheat. I kept my chin up and my eyes on the road ahead, attempting to keep whatever dignity I could from this moment.
The
As I walked a long way to my seat, I passed rows of Denver’s social elite. Women wearing so much jewelry that it could pay for a teacher’s retirement. Men who wear tailored suits that probably cost as much as I used to make in a month. People who thought their worth was based on their stock portfolios and country club memberships instead of the lives they changed or the students they taught.
A
The words hurt, not because they were true—I had never cleaned houses—but because they were so mean. For thirty-seven years, I taught high school students English literature, helping them discover Shakespeare and Steinbeck and encouraging their love of language and story. But that didn’t fit with the story Vivien had made up about me: the impoverished relative from the wrong side of town who didn’t belong with the Ashworths and their friends.
I sank into my seat. The inexpensive metal folding chair was so different from the soft, upholstered seats in the front rows. From this spot, I could see my son Brandon standing at the altar in his tailored tuxedo, which made him look incredibly handsome. He was thirty-seven now and a successful trial lawyer with a corner office and a salary in the six figures. After his father died, I raised him by myself. I did additional tutoring sessions to pay for his college applications. I celebrated every success as if it were my own.
He had concluded that I was an embarrassment at some point on his route to becoming this polished, successful man. Over the last three years, since Robert died, the evidence had slowly built up. The phone calls that weren’t answered. The Sunday dinners that never happened. As he constructed his new life with Vivien Ashworth and her wealthy family, the distance between them grew.
This morning was the last time I found out where I stood in my son’s life. Vivien had me trapped in the wedding suite, and her finely manicured fingers tapped anxiously on the seating chart while she gave me her decision.
“Your poverty will make us look bad,” she stated in a calm, professional voice. “We’ve put you in the back.” “Don’t make a scene during the ceremony.”
I looked at Brandon, ready for him to stand up for me and tell his wife that she was being mean. Instead, my son looked away from me and mumbled something about how hard it was. At that moment, I knew exactly how he saw me now: not as his mother who had given up everything for him, but as a problem that needed to be solved.
The start of the ceremony was marked by the string quartet playing. I put my hands together in my lap and promised myself I will get through this. I would be happy to see my son marry this woman. I would be polite and smile. After that, I would go home to my modest apartment and attempt to remember when I had become invisible to my child.
That’s when I felt someone sit down next to me in the empty seat.
I turned around and saw a distinguished man with silver hair and bright blue eyes looking at me with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher. Everything about him screamed wealth and class: his perfectly tailored charcoal suit that fit him like it had been made just for him, his Italian leather shoes that probably cost more than my rent, and his elegant watch that caught the afternoon sunlight coming through the crystal chandeliers in the ballroom.
“Act like you’re with me,” he said in a low, private voice.
He came over and softly put his hand on mine before I could say anything or even think about what was going on. His skin was warm, and his touch was unexpectedly soft. Then he smiled at me like we were old friends spending a nice afternoon together, as if sitting next to me was precisely what he intended to do.
The change around us happened right away and was shocking. I wasn’t the sad woman sitting alone in the cheap seats anymore. I was in a couple, and it was evident that they were a well-dressed, classy couple. The whispering changed totally. I could hear it in the murmurs behind us and see it in the way people looked at us with new interest instead of ignoring us.
“Who is that guy with Brandon’s mom?” Someone whispered, and their voice carried across the quiet before the ceremony. “He seems important. Distinguished. “Maybe we didn’t see the situation clearly.”
My strange friend had perfect timing. As Brandon and Vivien were making their vows—promises to love and respect each other that sounded hollow because of how they had treated me—he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear.
He replied quietly, “Your son is about to look this way.” “Smile at me like I just told you something interesting when he does.”
I had no idea who this man was or why he was assisting me, but the way he spoke with such calm confidence made me want to trust him. Brandon’s eyes moved over the throng, probably to make sure I was following his orders and remained out of sight. When my son saw me seated next to this elegant stranger and laughing quietly as if we were sharing a secret joke, his face turned absolutely white.
Vivien saw right away that her new spouse was distracted. She followed his gaze, and when she saw me—no longer alone and sad, but with someone who looked like he belonged in the front row with the senators and CEOs—her careful calmness broke down.
The man next to me held my hand tightly. “Great. It appears like your son has seen a ghost. This should make the next few hours a lot more fun.
“Who are you?” I mumbled, attempting to keep the conversation light while my heart raced in my chest.
He said in a vague way, “Someone who should have been in your life a long time ago.” “We’ll talk properly after the wedding.” For now, just enjoy watching your son try to figure things out.
And I have to say that I liked it, even though I was confused. I felt like I had some power in this family dynamic for the first time in months, maybe years. I wasn’t the only mother who was too humiliated to be seen. I was suddenly someone worth noticing, someone who made my successful lawyer son uneasy, and someone who got people’s attention.
People kept looking back at us during the ceremony, trying to figure out who my friend was and why he was there. Twenty minutes before, the society matrons had been chatting about how much lower I was than them. Now they were craning their necks to get a better look, clearly unsure of their first impressions.
When the pastor finally said that Brandon and Vivien were husband and wife, my strange friend rose up and gave me his arm like a gentleman from a different time.
“Should we go to the reception now, Eleanor?””
He knew who I was. This situation was growing more interesting by the second. I put my hand in the crook of his elbow, and we walked down the aisle together. As we walked past the front rows where the important guests sat, I saw people looking perplexed and pulling out their phones to look up information about the respectable guy who was accompanying Brandon’s seemingly unimportant mother.
There was a huge white tent outside the main house for the reception. It had a live band, an open bar that probably cost more than a year’s worth of my income, and enough flowers to fill a florist store for a month. My friend took me to a quiet part of the estate’s gardens, away from the people who were getting ready for cocktails.
I finally found my voice and remarked, “You never told me your name.”
He turned to look at me straight on, and something in his face made me stop breathing. His smile changed the whole look of his face, making the formal look softer and more familiar.
He said, “Theodore Blackwood.” “But you used to call me Theo.”
The world turned on its side. I grabbed the garden wall to stabilize myself, and my mind was racing as I tried to figure out what was going on.
“Hey, Theo?”” My voice came out as a soft whisper. “But that’s not possible. You should be in Europe right now. “By now, you should be married and have grandchildren.”
He got closer, and now I could see him clearly: the boy I had loved so much when I was eighteen, concealed under fifty years of life experience. His eyes were still the same shocking blue, but now they were surrounded by lines that showed he had gone through both good and bad times that I hadn’t seen.
He responded simply, “I never got married.” “And I never stopped looking for you.”
The words lingered between us like a bridge over five decades of separation and all the lives we’d lived without each other.
“Are you looking for me?”” The accusation in my voice shocked even me. Old pain came up to the surface like it had been waiting all these years for this time. “Hey Theo, I got married. I had a boy. I made a whole life for myself. You went to London for that business program and never came back. You never wrote. “You never called.”
His face grew troubled, and I could see real grief in his eyes. “I wrote you letters, Eleanor.” A lot of them. For months, I contacted your apartment every week. In the first two years, I even went back to Denver twice to look for you. But you had relocated, and no one would tell me where.
He stopped and looked closely at my face. “You never got any of my letters, did you?””
The parts of a puzzle that had been around for fifty years started to fit together in a way that made me sick. My mother never liked Theo since his family had money and ours didn’t. My mother constantly told me that boys like Theodore Blackwood didn’t marry ladies like me and that I was reaching above my level. My mother took care of all the mail that first year after Theo departed because we had moved to a new apartment and she didn’t trust me to run the house well.
I said, “She threw them away,” and the certainty settled in my stomach like a stone. “My mom read your letters.”
Theo responded gently, “I thought as much.” “When I eventually hired a private detective to find you in 1978, you were already married to Robert and six months pregnant. I stayed away because I didn’t want to mess up your life. But I always wondered what could have happened.
Brandon was born in 1979, so I had been married to Robert for almost two years when Theo met me. If he had found me two years earlier, if my mother hadn’t gotten in the way, if I had known he was seeking for me, calling for me, and coming back for me, my whole life might have been very different.
“You hired a detective?” I asked, trying to understand that while I was changing diapers and teaching sophomore English, Theo had been looking for me.
“Several, actually,” Theo said with a sad smile. “It turned into somewhat of an obsession throughout the years. I would try again every couple of years, employ someone new, and follow different leads. I kept an eye on your profession from a distance. I read about your teaching honors in the local media and letters to the editor from your students complimenting your work. Eleanor, I was proud of you. “I always knew you would make a difference in the world and touch lives.”
The music for the reception started playing in the distance, telling us to attend the party. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t understand how the past and present were colliding.
“Why now?” I asked. “Why today of all days?””
Theo took a newspaper clipping out of his jacket pocket. It was folded gently and looked like it had been handled a lot. He opened it up to show the Denver Post society pages’ wedding announcement, which had a shiny picture of Brandon and Vivien looking like the perfect pair they thought they were.
He said, “I saw this announcement last month.” ” It said that the groom’s mother, Eleanor Patterson, was a retired teacher who had taught English literature at East High School for 37 years. I realized right away that it was you. I found you in the wedding announcements section of the Sunday paper after all these years of looking, hitting dead ends, and almosts.
The irony was nearly funny. “So, you came here to ruin a wedding?”
“I came to see you,” he said softly. “I was going to sit in the back, see you be proud of your son, and maybe get the guts to talk to you again afterward and say hello again. But when I got there and saw how they were treating you, how they sat you down like you weren’t important… His eyes burned with protective wrath. “Well, I couldn’t just sit there and watch that happen to you.”
We heard Brandon’s voice behind us, sharp with barely controlled panic, before I could say anything.
“Mom, we need to talk.” Now.
I turned around and saw my son and Vivien coming toward me. They both looked like they had just seen a natural disaster. Vivien’s wedding glow had turned into a thinly veiled alarm, and Brandon’s face had gone from pale to red.
I said kindly, “Brandon,” and didn’t let go of Theo’s arm. “Shouldn’t you be saying hello to your other guests? I think the line for reception is forming.
“Who is this guy? Vivien asked, her voice low yet harsh enough to break glass.
Theo went forward with the calm confidence of someone who is used to being in charge of everything. Theodore Blackwood. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself sooner; I was too busy enjoying seeing Eleanor again after so many years away.
He reached out his hand to Brandon, who shook it without thinking. His lawyer background made him do the polite thing even if his mind was plainly racing.
Brandon answered, “I’m sorry, Mr. Blackwood, but I don’t think my mother has talked about you.” His voice became the careful neutrality he used in court when he was trying to get information.
“She hasn’t, has she?” Theo raised his eyebrows in fake shock. “How interesting.” Eleanor and I had known each other for a long time. In reality, a very important history.
The way he said it casually and the closeness in his voice made Vivien’s eyes narrow dangerously. I could almost see her brain working, attempting to figure out what this relationship meant and how it may affect her carefully built social status.
“What kind of past?”” Brandon asked, his voice sounding like a prosecutor’s when he was questioning hostile witnesses.
“The kind that matters most,” Theo said effortlessly. “Your mother and I were quite close before she met your father. We had plans, dreams, and a complete future planned out together.
The admission was like an unexploded grenade in the air. I watched my kid think about this knowledge and saw the exact moment when he realized that his mother had been a whole person with her own loves, sorrows, and life narrative that had nothing to do with him.
“How bad is it?” Vivien’s question sounded more like a hiss than real words.
“Serious enough that I’ve been regretting the things that kept us apart for the last fifty years,” Theo murmured, looking into my eyes with such passion that my pulse skipped a beat. “I knew I had to see Eleanor one more time after seeing the wedding announcement in the paper.”
Brandon stared back and forth between us with more and more worry, obviously trying to rework everything he thought he knew about me. “Mother, what is he talking about?” You never said anything about this.
“There are a lot of things I never told you, Brandon,” I whispered slowly, finally able to say what had been hurting me for years. “I guess I wasn’t important enough to have a long chat with. You’ve only talked to me about when to come and where to sit in the last three years.
The barb hit its target. My son was kind enough to seem uncomfortable, and his cheeks turned red.
“But I’m interested,” I said next, “why are my personal ties suddenly so important to you? Twenty minutes ago, I was so embarrassed that I wanted to hide in the back row. Now I’m worth stopping your reception to ask questions?”
Vivien’s face turned red, and she lost her cool a little. “That’s not what we want. We just want to know who this man is and what he wants with you.”
“I’m here,” Theo said, his voice getting a little sharper under the cheerful surface. “Eleanor deserves to have someone who appreciates her amazing qualities at her son’s wedding.” Someone who knows how valuable she is and acts accordingly.
It was clear that the criticism was there. Brandon moved about awkwardly, but Vivien got back up with the tenacity of someone battling for their life.
“Mr. Blackwood, I know you know this is a family event. Maybe it would be better if you—
“If I what?” The steel below stood out more. “If I left and let you keep treating Eleanor like she was some kind of problem you had to deal with?””
Brandon started, “Now see here,” and his lawyer’s urge to defend kicked in.
“No, you see here,” Theo said, cutting in. His voice was calm, but it was clear he was in charge. “I’ve been watching you both for the past hour, and you’ve both completely neglected and discarded one of the best women I’ve ever met. Eleanor reared you, gave up everything for you, and loved you no matter what. And this is how you show her respect? By putting her in the back like she’s not important? “
The words I had wanted to hear someone say—the defense I had hoped my son would give but never did—hung in the air between us in the yard.
Vivien screamed, “You don’t know anything about how our family works,” and her calmness broke even further.
“I know enough,” Theo stated in a chilly voice. “I know Eleanor was treated like an afterthought at her son’s wedding.” I know that your friends in the community have been talking about her all afternoon, and you haven’t done anything to protect her dignity.
Brandon weakly protested, “She had an escort.” “We thought she had made plans—”
I said quietly, “You were wrong.” “But then, Brandon, you haven’t asked me much of anything lately, have you?” You haven’t questioned me about my life, my health, or if I’m lonely in that apartment since your dad died. “You haven’t asked if I’m okay.”
My son truly looked at me for the first time all day. He didn’t see me as a duty to be controlled but as a person with feelings that could be harmed.
“Mom, I didn’t know—”
“That’s the problem,” Theo said, cutting him short. “You didn’t know because you didn’t care enough to pay attention. But I did. And now I’m here, and I won’t leave till Eleanor tells me to.
That was when Vivien made her deadly error. She stood up straight and tall, looking every bit the Ashworth heiress, and remarked in a harsh, commanding voice, “Well, we’ll see about that.” “Mr. Blackwood, we have security.”
The silence that followed was the kind that comes before either laughter or violence. Theo picked laughter, which is the sound of someone who considers a situation funny instead of scary.
“Your safety?” He took out his phone and made a quick call. “James? Please send the automobile around. And please bring the portfolio I made.
He hung up and smirked at Vivien like a cat watching a stupid mouse go too far from its hole.
“Security is an interesting idea,” he replied in a kind way. “The Ashworths have done well for themselves in Denver society.” Wealth in the area, power in the community, and a recognized family name. “Pretty impressive, really, for three generations of smart investments and planned marriages.”
Brandon was starting to look like a man who had suddenly learned he was standing on quicksand. “Mr., I suppose there may be some confusion about—
Theo concurred with a smile, “Oh, there’s definitely a misunderstanding.” “You seem to think you have this under control.” You seem to assume you can do whatever you want to Eleanor without any consequences.
A black Mercedes with a sleek design came up to the garden entrance. A driver in a uniform got out and carried a leather portfolio. He came up to her with the kind of courteous deference that people with a lot of money can spot right away.
Theo opened the portfolio and took out what looked like blueprints and legal papers.
He stretched them out on the garden wall and said, “These are the plans for the new Blackwood Tower downtown.” “Forty-two stories, mixed-use development—residential, commercial, retail.” Next month, work on the building will start. It will change the whole area.
He turned to a new page and pointed to a part that was highlighted. “And this is where it’s being built.”
Vivien leaned forward, even though she didn’t want to. Her countenance went from intrigued to completely shocked when she realized the location. “That’s… that’s where the main office building for Ashworth Properties is. The building my dad owns.
“Their office building,” Theo softly corrected. “I bought the home last month through a number of middleman companies. The deal says that the current renters have ninety days to get out.
Vivien’s face lost all of its color. “You can’t do that.” We’ve been based in that building for thirty years.
“I can, in fact. Yes, I did. The sale is already done, filed with the county, and is completely legal and binding. Theo closed the portfolio with a quiet snap that sounded like a door closing. But here’s the really interesting part: I had no notion when I bought that building three months ago that it was connected to this family. It was just a coincidence. “I was just buying strategic property in an area that was growing.”
He stopped for a while to let that sink in. “Of course, now that I know there’s a connection, I guess I could be talked into changing the terms of the lease termination.” Sometimes you can negotiate these things. “For the right reasons.”
Brandon found his voice, but it sounded strained. “What do you want, Mr. Blackwood?””
“Want?” Theo seemed genuinely confused, as if the question didn’t make sense. “I don’t want anything from you, Brandon.” You gave me the best gift ever by being so rude to your mother that she required someone to sit next to her today. “You’ve given me a second chance that I never thought I’d have.”
He looked at me, and the harshness in his face softened into something very soft. “Eleanor, do you want to leave this party?” We have fifty years to catch up on, and I’d rather spend the afternoon hearing about your life than watching these people try to fix what they’ve done.
The offer was like a lifeline tossed to someone who was drowning. I could leave this embarrassing situation and go to my son’s wedding with a man who really liked me and wanted to be with me.
But first, I had something to say.
“Brandon,” I said, my voice steady even though my emotions were like a storm inside me. “I want you to understand something very important.” When your bride warned me this morning that my lack of money would make your new family feel bad, I accepted it. I also accepted it when you put me in the back row like I was a distant friend you didn’t like very much. I told myself that you were scared because weddings are stressful and that I was being too sensitive.
My son’s face was a mask of sadness, but I kept on.
“But seeing you stress right now because someone important is paying attention to me—seeing you rush to figure out who Theo is and what he could want from you—tells me everything I need to know about how you really see me. I’m not your mother in these moments, Brandon.” I’m a liability that needs to be managed and a possible embarrassment that needs to be kept in check.”
“Mom, that’s not right—”
“It’s exactly fair,” I said, shocked by how strong my voice was. “And the worst part is that some of what you say is true. Vivien’s family is richer than I am. I do live in a little apartment on a teacher’s pension. Your wife probably thinks I’m an embarrassment.
I felt Theo’s hand tighten supportively on my arm.
I went on, “The difference is that I’m not ashamed of who I am anymore.” I’m proud of the life I built, the pupils I taught, and the marriage I had with your father. I’m proud of growing you to be successful and capable, even if I’m painfully disappointed in the man you’ve become.”
I grasped Theo’s extended arm, feeling decades of collected hurt finally loosening its grip on my heart.
“Enjoy your reception,” I said to my son and his bride. “I’m going to spend the afternoon with someone who really wants to be with me.”
I could hear Vivien’s voice getting louder and more panicked behind us as we moved away. “Brandon, do you know who Theodore Blackwood is? “Do you know what this means for my dad’s business?”
But I didn’t glance back. For the first time in three years, or maybe even my whole life, I was walking toward something instead of away from it. Instead of responsibility, toward possibilities. Toward someone who thought I was useful instead of someone who thought I was a problem.
The top floor of a historic building in downtown Denver was where Theo chose to eat. It had a view of the Denver cityscape. There was soft jazz playing in the background, and the waitstaff moved with the type of quiet efficiency that comes from years of serving clients who want the best.
“I should have asked first,” Theo stated as we sat down at a table by the window with a stunning view of the city. “Are you hungry?” Or would you rather simply talk? “
I laughed, and I was shocked at how real it sounded. “I don’t think I could have eaten another piece of those snobby canapés anyway. They looked great, but they didn’t taste good at all.
The waiter came over and definitely knew Theo. “Mr. It’s great to see you again, Blackwood. Your usual seat. Should I bring the list of wines?”
“Please. And Dominic, could we perhaps have some of the mushrooms that Eleanor used to love? The ones that have crab and herbs in them?”
I couldn’t believe how shocked I was. “Do you recall what I asked for fifty years ago?”
He said, “I remember everything about you,” and the way he looked at me made my breath catch. “The way you laughed at your own jokes before they were funny. That small furrow between your eyebrows that you got when you were trying to do something hard. You always took the olives out of my Caesar salad and assumed I wouldn’t notice.
I didn’t expect to cry. When was the last time someone paid that much attention to me? When had anyone cared enough to recall the little things that made me who I am?
“Please tell me about your life,” Theo urged softly. “Not the headlines or the most important facts.” Tell me about the things that were important to you and the events that made you who you are.
I did. I told him about my job as a teacher and how my students had helped me stay sane when Robert was sick for a long time. About Brandon’s childhood and how proud I was to see him accomplish well at whatever he tried. About the calm happiness of a marriage that wasn’t passionate but was solid, kind, and comfortable.
And then, because Theo made me feel safe enough to be honest, I told him how lonely I was when Robert died. About how I felt like I was invisible in my son’s life, like I had done my job and was just taking up space. About the slow understanding that the child I had nurtured saw me as more of a duty than a person.
I said, “Today wasn’t an aberration,” my voice barely above a whisper. “It was just the most public example of something that has been going on for a long time.”
Theo’s jaw tightened with fury for me, but his voice stayed calm. “That boy doesn’t deserve you, Eleanor.”
I said, “He’s still my son,” because even though I was upset and disappointed, it was still true.
“Of course he is.” And one day he will know what he lost. But that’s his loss to deal with, not yours.
“How about you?” I asked, wanting to change the subject away from my anguish. “You mentioned you never got married. All these years, really? “
He confirmed, “No marriage, no kids.” “A few relationships over the years, but nothing that lasted.” I kept comparing everyone to you and the memories we made together. It wasn’t fair to them, and it probably wasn’t good for me either, but I couldn’t stop myself.
The admission hung between us, heavy with meanings that neither of us was willing to say out loud.
What are we doing here, Theo? This isn’t merely a supper with old friends to catch up.
He put down his wine glass and gazed at me with a look that reminded me of the guy he used to be, the one who made me believe in big romantic gestures and happy endings.
“Eleanor, I’m seventy.” I have toured the world, developed a corporate empire, and done everything I set out to do. But there has never been a day when I didn’t think about how different my life would have been if your mother hadn’t gotten in the way and I had found you before you married Robert.
“We can’t go back,” I whispered softly, even though my heart was racing.
“Yes,” he said. “But we’re better now than we were back then.” We know what we want, what is important, and what is just noise. “We’ve lived long enough to know what real value is when we see it.”
My phone kept buzzing in my purse. I looked at it and saw that Brandon had called me seventeen times and sent me a series of increasingly frantic texts.
“Mom, please call me right away.” Do you know who Theodore Blackwood is? He has more than five hundred million dollars. What kind of relationship do you have with him? Vivien’s dad really wants to see him. Could you set up an introduction? “Please call me back.”
I gave Theo the texts, and he read them with a smile on his face.
He said dryly, “It’s interesting how quickly their interest grew.”
My phone buzzed again, and this time it was Vivien calling. I answered even though I knew better.
“Eleanor!”” Her voice had changed totally from the frigid no to the warm yes this morning. “I hope you’re having a nice night.” Brandon and I were wondering if you could come over for dinner tomorrow night. We’d like to talk to you and Mr. Blackwood in person. We are really sorry about the seating mix-up today.
The change was shocking in how crass it was. I was an embarrassment twelve hours ago. Now, because of who I was seated with, I was suddenly worth wooing.
“I’ll have to check with Theodore,” I responded, enjoying every word of that sentence since it meant that someone else’s schedule was more important than mine.
Vivien’s silence made it clear that she was angry. “Of course.” Please let us know as soon as you can.
I hung up and looked at Theo. He was smiling like he had just won something big.
“Well,” I remarked, raising my glass of wine. “This day definitely didn’t go as I thought it would when I woke up this morning.”
He touched his glass to mine and said, “The best days never do.” “Now, let’s talk about what comes next.””
Over the next few weeks, everything that happened was carefully planned. At dinner with Brandon and Vivien, they tried hard to make up with each other while clearly trying to get Theo’s business connections. Vivien apologized in front of the same elite women who had seen me humiliated at a charity luncheon. The new lease for Ashworth Properties had “community standards” terms and rules about giving to charity.
But the painstaking rebuilding of my feeling of self-worth was more essential than all of the outside drama. I learned that I didn’t need my son’s approval to know how much I was worth. That the years I spent teaching, raising Brandon, and constructing a life had importance, whether or not anyone else saw it.
We talked for hours, walked about the city, went to museums, and got to know each other again and find out who we had become. He told me about how he built his business and how it was lonely to achieve all he desired yet miss the one thing that mattered. I told him about the students who still wrote to me, the books that had helped me through hard times, and how I had to learn to live alone after being with someone for decades.
Six months later, I’m sitting in the Tuscany villa that Theo insisted on buying for us. “Everyone should see Tuscany at least once, Eleanor, and I want to see it with you.” I’m watching the sunset paint the hills in gold and amber colors that no picture could ever capture. Theo is next to me, reading the newspaper and looking up every now and then to share something intriguing. There is a comfortable silence between us that feels like going home.
Brandon calls me every week, and my phone rings. These talks have evolved a lot since the wedding. He now asks actual questions, listens to my responses, and treats me like a person whose life and opinions matter.
Hey, Mom. How are things doing in Italy?”
I honestly say, “It’s beautiful,” as I stare out at the olive groves. “We’re thinking about staying for another month.”
“That sounds great.” I’m glad for you, Mom. “I’m really happy.” He stops. “I wanted to let you know that Vivien and I have been going to counseling. A lot of talking. About how we treated you and what actually counts in life besides money and power.
“And what have you come to?” “Why do I ask? I’m really curious.
“That we were awful. We let little things get in the way of seeing what really mattered. Mom, I know I can’t change what I did or the years I squandered not appreciating you. But I want you to know I’m striving to be better.”
“I know,” I say. “And I appreciate that more than you realize.”
After we hang up, Theo squeezes my hand. “Progress?”
I agree: “Progress.”
You can fix some relationships. Some scars can heal if you give them enough time and real effort. At least Brandon is trying. It is still unclear if it is enough. But this time, I’m not waiting for my son to tell me how much I’m worth. I don’t think I’m worth anything if he calls, visits, or includes me in his life.
I now realize how much I am worth. And that changes everything.
“Are you ready for dinner?” “Yes,” Theo says, standing up and offering his hand in the same polite way he did at the wedding.
“Always,” I say as I take it.
Two seventy-year-olds who found one another after being apart for fifty years walk into the villa together. They realized that it’s never too late to take back your life, stand up for yourself, and demand the respect you deserve. Who found out that the best way to get back at someone is not to damage them but to be so true to yourself that their opinion doesn’t matter anymore?
The woman who no one wanted to be their mother became the woman everyone suddenly respected. Not because I changed who I was, but because I finally saw what I had always been worth.
And in the end, that awareness—that peaceful, unwavering assurance of my own worth—was the best present I could offer myself.
