She pushed her dining chair back and stood up straight.
Her gold dress was still wrinkled from the day before, but her posture was remarkably composed as she walked across the room holding the small box.
Every relative at the table fell silent and watched her approach Gene.
Nobody dared to interrupt her.
Holly stopped right beside her step-grandmother’s chair.
“Grandma,” she said, her voice ringing out clearly across the room, “Dad told me to give this to you if you ever ignored me again.”
Gene looked down at the red velvet box, then looked up at Holly.
Her rigid smile tightened, but she remained confident that she could brush the moment off as another case of someone being overly dramatic.
“Well, isn’t that just wildly dramatic,” Gene said with a soft sneer.
For illustration purposes only
I watched Brandon stand up from his chair.
He walked over and stood right behind Holly, positioning himself close enough to support her without taking the box out of her hands or speaking on her behalf.
Gene glanced up at him, likely expecting him to make an excuse, apologize for the awkwardness, or laugh it off.
Brandon did none of those things.
“Open it, Mom,” Brandon commanded flatly.
Gene took the velvet box into her hands.
