“If they judge you that harshly after one meal, you don’t want to be loved by them,” my mom retorts. Lily nods repeatedly. “What Rose said.” Daisy looks at my mom. “Didn’t you throw wine on your mother-in-law’s blouse when you first met her?” My lips rise, remembering this story. My mom sighs at the memory, then flips her hair off her shoulder. “And I prevailed.” “See,” Daisy smiles at me. “You could throw wine on someone, and all could end miraculously.”
