“These pearls survived the salt sea, and they will survive your mother-in-law,” I said.
Emily looked up, her eyes wide. “Margaret called James again this afternoon. She wants to meet you tomorrow at her house. Just you.”
“Did she say why?” I asked.
“She said it was to discuss the budget,” Emily whispered, her breathy voice dropping. “But she sounded so quiet, Aunt Rosemary. Like she was reading from a script.”
The flagstones on Margaret’s back patio were hot enough to bake a biscuit when I arrived at noon the next day. She sat under a striped canvas umbrella, her manicured fingers tapping the gold watch on her wrist with a steady, dry sound.
“I brought the sketches Emily liked,” I said, placing the drawings on the iron table.
Margaret did not look at them. She slid a thin, gray folder toward me, her eyes perfectly still.
“James is a young man with a very specific future, Rosemary,” she said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “We have to protect his interests before we discuss any wedding. If you sign this agreement on Emily’s behalf, I will purchase a beautiful polyester gown from the boutique in Macon myself.”
I looked down at the document. The word *Inheritance* appeared in bold black print halfway down the first page, followed by three columns of figures.
“Emily does not want your money, Margaret,” I said.
“Then she won’t mind signing away her right to any portion of his family trust,” Margaret said, her smile not reaching her eyes. “Otherwise, I cannot in good conscience support this union.”
“We do not need your polyester,” I said, standing up so fast my left knee popped. “And we do not need your permission.”
Margaret leaned back, her gold watch catching the midday sun. “Without my signature on the florist deposit, the venue will cancel the reservation by Friday.”
James was waiting on my front porch when I got back at five, his hand running through his dark hair as he paced the pine boards.
“My mother told me what happened,” he said, stepping down to meet me at the bottom step. “She said you were unreasonable about the paperwork.”
“She wants Emily to sign away her life before she even puts on a ring, James,” I said, leaning against the wooden railing to take the weight off my hips.
“I didn’t know she was going to bring that document today, ma’am,” he said, his voice quiet and polite. “But please, do not stop making the dress. Emily needs to see that we are still moving forward.”
“The satin is already bought,” I said, my thumb rubbing the stiff joint. “But your mother is not going to stop.”
“I will handle my mother,” James said, though he looked down at his shoes as he said it.
“She mentioned the venue deposit, James,” I said.
He did not look up. “She controls the account until my twenty-eighth birthday.”
I watched his car disappear down the dusty road, the Georgia humidity settling over the yard like a wet wool blanket. I walked back inside, my hands throbbing from the drive and the heat.
I sat under the bright desk lamp in the corner of the dining room, my swollen knuckles trembling as I threaded the first needle.
