I stared at my mom, tears forming in my eyes. “You didn't do anything wrong.”
“Yes I did. I didn't come right out and support you. I went along with Ladies' Bridge Club because they're my friends.” She reached forward and took my hands. “But, you're my daughter.”
“Thank you, Mama,” I whispered, not really trusting my voice.
She squeezed my hands and then went back to her menu. “I think I'll have a burger. They always have good burgers here.”
That's how I knew she was serious. My mom didn't dwell on important things. She could talk about the weather for hours, but she would only
say the important stuff once. We were good now. She had forgiven me for smearing the family name and sleeping with Dr. Matthews.
“I think I just want the cheese curds,” I replied. It was the only thing on the menu that sounded good. When my mother frowned, I followed up with, “I had a big lunch.”
“Did you hear that Cassidy Reynolds is having a baby?” My mom smiled. “Libby is so excited. It wasn't planned, but very much wanted. Apparently a doctor told her she'd never get pregnant. She's with Rich Smokes. They aren't married because they were waiting to save up the money for a big wedding. Now, they're eloping.”
“Really?” My heart lightened hearing the other side of the story. “That's actually a really happy story.”
“I know, right?” My mom leaned forward. “It's all drama in the society about it, though. Libby's so happy, but that means she's going to have a grandchild before Rachel, and Rachel isn't happy about that. Her daughter's been married for three years and no babies yet.”
I was about to say something when the front door of the diner burst open and a gaggle of men poured through it.
“I won!” my dad shouted, waving his hat around as he came in. “I won the tournament!”
“Oh, there will be no living with him now,” my mother whispered, shaking her head.
I chuckled and smiled as my dad went up to the bar and ordered a round of drinks for his friends. He pulled out a thick stack of bills and slammed a hundred dollar bill down on the counter.
“How much money was the tournament worth?” I asked, eyeing the wad of cash in my dad's hand.
“Each member had to put in fifty dollars,” my mom answered. “There were some re-buys, but you know your dad never goes for that.”
Given that nearly every adult male that could get away from their kids or work was part of the poker group, that meant a lot of money. I was rather proud of my dad. It was definitely something that made him happy.
The diner got much louder with the men buying drinks and praising my dad for his poker skills. I recognized many faces. There was my dad, Dr. Taggert, the minister, Mr. Abrams who owned the grocery store, and several other of my father's friends. At one point my dad came over to our table. He kissed my mother on the lips, making her blush.
“Can you believe I won?” he asked us, his eyes dancing with delight. “I've never won before.”
“What was your secret this time, Dad?” I asked him.
He glanced around and then leaned forward so the poker group couldn't hear him. “I'm not drunk. I've only had water and root beer all night. I can read their bluffs like a book.”
He pointed to the dark bubbly glass of liquid next to him. I had thought he was drinking a dark stout like he usually did, but I smelled it to find it really was just root-beer.
“I should have thought of this years ago,” he admitted. “Dinner's on me, girls.”
He grinned, picked up his drink, and went back to hanging with his buddies.
I knew he would be exhausted later. I could already see the dark circles under his eyes and he leaned heavy against the bar. This would drain his energy, but it made him so happy I didn't have the heart to tell him to stop. These were the memories I wanted to have of him.
Many of the poker club members gave me dirty looks. Despite the restaurant being crowded, my mother and I had plenty of room around our table. However, my water was knocked over three times and somehow my lemonade never made it out.
I tried to ignore them. My father was happy and my mother didn't hate me. I didn't really care what the rest of the town thought. They could keep on giving me dirty looks and bumping the waitress with my drink so it would spill.
“Just go home,” one man said, walking past me. “You're not wanted here.”
My mother gave him a death glare, but he was already gone.
“Have people really been treating you like this?” Mom asked, looking around.