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A tangle of emotions knotted through Maureen’s brain as she watched the snowball fight gather momentum. Nimble Denny had always been good at sports, but Maureen threw like a girl. She cringed as she recalled her high school PE classes. She’d hidden in the safety of the locker room when the other girls flocked onto the softball field with glee. Thankfully, her physical education teacher had let her slide. Maureen’s forte had shone in her cooking classes. At home, she’d helped her mother’s housekeeper prepare meals and had soon surpassed the woman’s talents. Maureen recorded Martha Stewart and all the best cooking shows to watch after her homework was done. She was practically a straight A student, so her parents did not complain. And sometimes they would watch the cooking shows with her while athletic Denny practiced shooting hoops on the basketball court outside of the kitchen.
When it came time to attend college, she chose to major in home economics, which her father thought was a waste of time. “Why spend my money learning about things you already know how to do?” he’d asked, his voice full of laughter that disclosed his lack of pride. Denny had always been the clever one, even though her grades did not reveal it. Her father admired Denny’s pluckiness. She was the only one in the family who would stand up to him, which he found admirable.
But Maureen was not a complete flop, not that her father would ever admit it. Only mom had encouraged her with her cooking. Maureen smiled as her culinary fame replayed itself in her mind. But she was about to lose it all. Her smile flattened and her face sagged. Without her cooking show, she would be a nobody again. No respect from anyone. Invisible.
She remembered meeting James at a college dance and becoming infatuated with him the moment he had spoken. She’d had a boyfriend, but she gladly dropped him when she met James. Rusty, with his splash of freckles, had been such a nice guy and had treated her like royalty, but Maureen had preferred James’s style, much like her own father’s. She wondered if she would have been attracted to him if she’d met him today. She might have not married James and been happily wedded to Rusty. But then she wouldn’t have her daughter—their daughter, that is. There was no way to win; she would never admit that James was not Amanda’s real father. As long as Amanda never took a genealogy test, no one would ever know that Rusty was her biological father. A secret Maureen would take to her grave. She recalled revealing to James that she was pregnant. He had been stunned, then ecstatic, thankfully, and had suggested they get married right away. Maureen’s parents had been over the moon. As if poised for this moment, Mom started planning the wedding immediately. A list of caterers owed Maureen’s mother their allegiance. A huge sit-down affair for four hundred mentioned in the New York Times. What could be better?