Amara picked up the photograph and brushed a speck of dust from the glass. She did not cry. Not yet. She walked into the reception room with the picture held against her chest and found Celeste talking to a group of donors. "Please," Amara said quietly. "Don't throw her things away."
Celeste looked at the picture, then at the watching guests. "We're not doing this now."
"You said I could tell people about the scholarship. You promised."
A donor nearby stopped talking. Celeste's smile tightened. "Amara, you know how emotional you get about your mother. This is a lovely day. Let's not turn it into another difficult memory."
"It's not a difficult memory," Amara said. "It's her work. It's what she cared about."
Celeste took the photograph and handed it to a server. 'Put that somewhere safe,' she said, then guided Amara toward the foyer with a firm hand. 'You've had enough attention. Go upstairs and come down when you're ready to behave.' Halfway up the stairs, Amara heard Celeste announce the birthday tribute. The applause sounded so cheerful that she wondered if perhaps Celeste would finally say something kind. Perhaps she would mention Naomi. Amara turned around and went back down, hoping the afternoon might still become a happy memory.
She returned to find Celeste standing beneath the chandelier with a microphone, dazzling in a long emerald satin dress. "Raising a teenager is an adventure," Celeste began. "And when you marry a man with a daughter, you learn that love means stepping into a story that began before you arrived." Guests smiled in approval. Amara stood beside Talia near the refreshments table, uncertain whether to feel relieved.
"I've done everything I can to give Amara opportunities most girls only dream of," Celeste continued. "Private schools, travel, beautiful clothes, a home where she wants for nothing. Sometimes she struggles to appreciate it. We have had our share of little battles about manners, appearances, and moving forward from the past." She laughed as though she had shared a harmless family joke. The room responded with scattered, uncomfortable chuckles.
Amara felt Talia's fingers tighten around hers. Celeste went on to praise Marcus as a remarkable provider and herself as a devoted wife who had embraced responsibilities few women would accept. Her words painted a picture of a spoiled, ungrateful girl