“I had hoped to spend tonight celebrating my son.

Instead, this afternoon, I learned that he and his new wife had planned to celebrate it by humiliating his mother.” Beside our table, Hazel had gone still.

“Warren?” she said softly, and I heard the question in it.

I turned to her, and I told her the thing I had kept from her all evening.

“The glue,” I said, gently.

“It was meant for your chair.” I watched the color leave my wife’s face as she understood.