People kept approaching me, gesturing at my cast. “Oh my goodness, Elena, what happened?”

But before I could say a word, Jason would materialize and cut me off with his booming voice.

“Oh, she took a clumsy little tumble on the porch!” he’d laugh, clapping the guest on the back. “I told her to rest, but you know women — she insisted on cooking all this anyway.

Tough cookie.”

He was stealing the credit, painting himself the benevolent husband and me the devoted, slightly clumsy wife. I just nodded, sipping sparkling water, watching the mantel clock inch toward 7:30.

Then the front door opened and the matriarch arrived.