A Charming Ring To It

    After the fifth arrangement of the exquisite bouquet in the rose-colored vase, Lydia finally sat down on the edge of a reupholstered loveseat. From across the posh living room, her fiancée Thomas Jenkins III chuckled and ran a well-manicured hand through his nearly perfect hair. “Darling…I do wish you’d stop fussing so. Mother and Pappi will simply adore you.”

    From her place on the love-seat, Lydia gave a brief, yet disdainful, look at him. “Doubtful. I’m not exactly her type of people. Wrong pedigree. She’ll hate me.”

    Another chuckle, another oh-so-casual  brush off of her legitimate concerns. Chipped fingernails worked their way through her mass of curled hair as a sigh escaped her lips. For a few fleeting moments, there was silence.

    When the knock came, Lydia bolted to her feet, tripping over the throw rug and nearly falling onto the glass table that would later hold the beginnings of a modest welcoming feast for her future husband’s parents. Thomas took his time, straightening his tie and adjusting his cuff links.

    There was the exchange of pleasantries, all genuine-sounding, before they shuffled into the living room. While Thomas greeted his parents with stiff handshakes and brushed kisses, Lydia was in the kitchen dragging out heavy trays laden with wonderful appetizers. When Lydia reappeared, the parents began to interrogate the two young lovers, asking delicately vicious questions about Lydia’s parentage and personal life.

    The conversation spiraled towards disaster, through each new course of the feast until dessert. After daintily nibbling on homemade éclairs, the mother sat back and with a smile, stated, “Lydia Jenkins really does have a charming ring to it my dear. And Mimmie’s ring fits you perfectly.”          

    Lydia was floored. Thomas looked smug.

    Lydia decided that strange things happened over a feast with the in-laws.