The Reunion That Never Was
I should have known something was wrong when Melissa insisted on planning the whole family reunion herself. My daughter-in-law had never shown interest in family events before. Hell, she usually complained about having to attend them.

But there she was, calling me every week with updates. “Mom Janet, I’ve booked the perfect venue. It’s going to be amazing.

Everyone’s going to love it.”

She never called me Mom Janet. It was always just “Janet” in that cold tone she used when she had to acknowledge my existence. I should have listened to my gut.

But I was so happy that Melissa finally seemed excited about being part of our family. After five years of marriage to my son Derek, she’d kept her distance. Polite but distant.

Like she was doing us all a favor by showing up. The reunion was supposed to celebrate my late husband’s seventieth birthday. Frank had been gone for three years, but this would have been his milestone.

The whole family was coming—Derek and Melissa, my daughter Sarah with her kids, my brother Tom and his family, cousins from out of state. Twenty-two people total. “Don’t worry about the cost, Mom,” Derek had said when we first discussed it.

“Melissa and I will handle everything.”

But I knew they’d been struggling. Derek’s construction business was slow, and Melissa’s part-time job at the dentist’s office barely covered gas money. So when she called asking for help with deposits, I didn’t hesitate.

“I need about three thousand to secure everything,” she said. “The venue, catering, decorations. It’s going to be perfect, but I need to put money down now.”

I drove to the bank that afternoon and got her a cashier’s check.

Melissa hugged me when I handed it over—the first time she’d ever initiated physical contact with me. “Thank you so much, Mom Janet. This means everything to me.”

Two weeks later, she needed another thousand for the photographer and flowers.

Then five hundred more for party favors. Each time, I said yes. Frank had left me comfortable, and this was for his memory.

For our family. By the time the reunion rolled around, I’d given Melissa almost five thousand dollars. But I didn’t mind.

She’d been calling me with such enthusiasm, describing the decorations, the menu, the surprise slideshow she was putting together. “It’s going to be the event of a lifetime,” she kept saying. The Disaster
The morning of the reunion, I spent two hours getting ready.

The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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