Sometimes, the people who are expected to love us most turn out to be the cruelest. I never thought anyone could be that cruel to a child. On the morning of the school pageant, my daughter’s dress was ruined. What hurt most wasn’t the damage… it was knowing exactly who did it and why.
Six years into my marriage with Charles and those sounds still made my heart swell. Watching our daughters, Lily and Linda, my daughter and his daughter from our previous marriages — become indivisible has been the greatest gift of this whole mixed family thing.
“Mom! Can we have cookies now?” Lily said.
“Only if you’ve finished your homework!” I answered.
Thundering footsteps cascaded down the stairs as both girls, now 15, burst into the kitchen, laughing.
“We’re starving,” Linda proclaimed dramatically, reaching for a cookie. Her dark curls matched her father’s, while Sophie’s blonde waves came from me.
“Dad’s going to be late again, isn’t he?” Lily asked, perching on a barstool.
I nodded, sliding glasses of milk their way. “Budget meeting. He said not to wait up.”
“Hey, did you guys see the flyer? For the Spring Pageant?” Linda asked, her eyes bright with excitement. “We should totally do it.”
Lily hesitated. “I don’t know…”
“Come on! We could wear matching dresses and everything,” Linda said.
“And who’s going to make these matching dresses?” I raised an eyebrow, already knowing I’d be volunteering.
They both turned to me with identical pleading expressions.
“Please, Mom? You’re amazing with the sewing machine,” Lily said.
“Please, Elina?” Linda shouted. She’d never called me “Mom,” but the way she said my name carried the same warmth.
“Fine,” I laughed. “But you’re both helping with the design.”
He pulled me close. “That’s great. My mother called, by the way. She wants us all for Sunday dinner.”
My stomach knotted. “Wendy invited all of us?”
Even in the darkness, I felt his hesitation. “Well, she asked about Liza specifically, but—”
“It’s fine,” I cut him off. “We’ll all go. It’s been weeks since her last… comment.”
Charles sighed. “I’ve talked to her so many times, Elina. I don’t know what else to do.”
I squeezed his hand. “We just keep showing her that we’re a family… all of us.”
Sunday dinner at Wendy’s sprawling colonial house was always an exercise in restraint. And that day was no exception.
“Linda, darling, I got you something,” she announced after we finished her famous pot roast. She pulled out a small jewelry box and handed it to her granddaughter.
Linda opened it to find a delicate silver bracelet with a heart charm. “Wow, thanks, Grandma!”
Lily sat quietly beside her, her sad eyes fixed on her empty plate. I felt a familiar burn in my chest.
“The girls have exciting news,” I said. “They’re both entering the Spring Pageant at school.”
“How lovely,” Wendy said, her smile dimming slightly. “Linda, you’ll be amazing on stage. You have your late mother’s grace.”
“Both girls will be astonishing.”
“Of course,” Wendy said contemptuously, then turned to Linda. “Are you wearing the blue dress we saw at the mall last month?”
“Actually,” I insinuated, “I’m making their dresses. Matching ones.”
“Matching? But Linda should stand out. She’s got the looks.”
“Mom?” Charles concerned.
“What? I’m just saying some girls are naturally more suited for these things. It’s genetics.”
“May I be excused? I need to use the bathroom.” Lily said.
After she left, I leaned forward. “Wendy, we’ve talked about this. Both girls deserve equal treatment.”
“Equal treatment?” She said. “Elina, dear, I’m not being brutal. I’m being practical. Sophie is YOUR daughter. Not David’s. Why assumed otherwise?”
“Because we’re a family,” Charles said firmly. “All of us.”
“Family is blood,” Wendy whistled, her voice hard as stone.
“You can’t transform that with wishful thinking. Lily is not my granddaughter. And she never will be.”
“Mom, can you please—”
“Charles, it’s okay.” I cut him off gently, already turning toward the stairs. “Let’s just go home.”
I headed up to get the girls.
***
I stayed up late working on the dresses which has pale blue satin with hand-embroidered flowers across the bodices. The girls would try them on, twirling in front of the mirror, preparing their hair and makeup.
“These are the most beautiful dresses ever!” Lily confirmed.
“Elina, you’re a genius!” Linda agreed.
I smiled, exhausted but proud. “You’re both going to steal the show.”
The pageant was prepared for Saturday morning at the community center near Wendy’s neighborhood. Since it was an early start, Charles recommended we stay at his mother’s the night before.
“It makes sense,” he said.
“She’s five minutes from the venue. We’d have to leave our place at dawn otherwise.”
“But the dresses—”
“We’ll bring them with us and keep them safe. It’s one night, Elina.”
I submited, telling myself I was being paranoid. Wendy wouldn’t stoop so low as to sabotage a child’s moment. Would she?
***
Friday evening found us settled in Wendy’s guest rooms. I carefully hung both dresses in the closet of the girls’ room.
At dinner, Wendy was unusually pleasant, asking the girls about school and their pageant preparations. I began to relax, thinking maybe I’d misunderstand her.
After dessert, Lily asked to Wendy. “Grandma, can I try on my dress one more time? Just to make sure everything’s good?”
The room went silent. It was the first time Sophie had called her “Grandma” directly.
Wendy’s smile unrelaxed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You might get something on it.”
“I’ll be super careful,” Lily said.
“I said no.” Wendy’s voice changed cold. “Besides, girl, these pageants are about poise and natural beauty. Some girls just have it, and others…” She let the sentence hang.
Lily’s face scrunched slightly before she collected herself. “You’re right. Better to save it for tomorrow.”
Later, as I tucked the girls in, Lily muttered, “She hates me, doesn’t she?”
“No, sweetie,” I lied. “She just… doesn’t know how to be a grandmother to both of you yet.”
“It’s been six years, Mom.”
I had no answer for that.
***
Morning chaos started at 7 a.m. with showers, breakfast, hair… the works. Everyone was swarming to be ready by nine. The moment we got to the venue, the girls fluttered to the dressing room, and David stayed behind to unload the car.
I was fixing my earring when Sophie emerged from the room, tears streaming down her face.
“MOM?? My dress…”
My heart dropped. “What happened, sweetie?”
“It’s RUINED.”
I rushed to the girls’ room. Linda stood there in her perfect dress, looking shell-surprised. And there, on the table, lay Lily’s dress. A tear ran along the side seam, an ugly brown stain botched across the bodice, and worst of all, a scorched patch ran right through the padded flowers.
“Oh my God… what occured?” I muttered, picking it up with trembling hands.
“I don’t know,” Lily said. “It was fine when I saw it in the closet last night. But when I took it out of the bag to get dressed, it was like this.”
“Such a shame,” she said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “But some things aren’t meant to be. Perhaps it’s a sign.”
“A sign of what?” I snapped.
“That some girls don’t belong on that stage. Don’t worry, Sophie. You can see Liza shine.”
Charles appeared behind his mother. “What’s hapenning? The show begins in five minutes.”
Before I could answer, Linda brought forward, her face set in determination. “I think Grandma destr0yed Lily’s dress.”
“What?” Charles looked between them all. “Mom, did you..?”
“Of course not,” Wendy said. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I saw you,” Liza said. “Last night. You came in when you thought we were asleep. You took Sophie’s dress. I thought you were ironing it.”
The room went silent, and Wendy’s face rugged.
“Linda, darling, you must have been dreaming.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Here, take mine.”
Lily backed away. “No, I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” Linda insisted, hugging her. “We’re sisters. This is what sisters do.”
“Linda!” Wendy grasped. “Put that dress back on immediately!”
Linda neglected her, helping Lily into the dress. “It doesn’t matter which one of us wears it. We both belong on that stage.”
“I won’t allow this.”
“Yes, you will. Or you can share to everyone at the pageant exactly why one dress is damaged and your granddaughter isn’t participating.”
Wendy’s face went white. “She is not my granddaughter.”
The community center triggered with excitement as families filled the auditorium. Backstage, I helped change Lily’s borrowed dress while Liza sat nearby in jeans and a blouse.
“You don’t have to do this,” Sophie told her again.
Linda shrugged. “There’ll be other pageants. But there’s only one you.”
She didn’t win first place. She came in second, right behind Emma and her professionally tailored gown. But as the girls abraded off stage, crowns in hand, the pride in Sophie’s eyes was worth more than any trophy.
Wendy left before the ceremony ended, sneaking out a side door without saying goodbye.
That evening, as the four of us celebrated with pizza in our living room, Charles’s phone thrummed with a text from his mother: “I hope you’re happy with your choice.”
He showed it to me, then typed back: “I am. It’s time you made yours.”
We didn’t meet Wendy for six months after that. When she finally called, she asked to visit.
It wasn’t an apology. It wasn’t acceptance. But it was a new beginning.
