17. Chapter 16
T he table was set with meticulous precision, each plate and piece of silverware perfectly aligned.
Jenna had spent the entire day preparing, her every move carefully calculated to ensure the dinner party went off without a hitch.
She had chosen a muted palette for the décor-ivory tablecloths, crystal wine glasses, and a centrepiece of white roses and eucalyptus that gave the table an understated elegance.
The menu was a reflection of her effort, each dish chosen to highlight her skills and the care she put into these events.
The first course was a creamy wild mushroom soup with a drizzle of truffle oil, served in porcelain bowls that gleamed under the soft light of the chandelier.
Jenna had ladled the soup herself, her hands steady despite the nerves that churned in her stomach.
Their regular staff stood ready to serve.
The first guests to arrive were Troy's brother, Grant, and his wife, Victoria.
Grant greeted Jenna warmly, offering a bottle of vintage wine as a hostess gift.
Victoria followed behind, her Chanel-clad figure exuding effortless sophistication.
She surveyed the room with a faintly judgmental air before turning to Jenna with a tight smile.
"Everything looks lovely," she said. "You really do have a knack for these things. "
"Thank you," Jenna replied evenly, her tone polite but devoid of warmth. She ushered them into the living room, where Eleanor, Troy's sister, and her family were already seated. Eleanor's daughters were glued to their phones, barely acknowledging anyone as Jenna offered them drinks.
As the evening progressed, the tension in the room began to build. Margaret, Troy's mother, arrived with her usual air of superiority, her sharp eyes scanning the room as though searching for imperfections. Jenna greeted her with the same practiced smile she had perfected over the years.
"Jenna, dear," Margaret said, her tone cool. "The table looks... adequate. You've really outdone yourself."
"Thank you, Margaret," Jenna replied, ignoring the subtle jab. "I'm glad you could make it."
Margaret's attention quickly shifted to Lila, who had arrived moments later, much to Jenna's surprise. Lila looked effortlessly poised in a sleek black dress, her every movement exuding confidence. Jenna's stomach churned at the sight of her, but she maintained her composure.
"Lila, dear," Margaret said warmly, pulling her into a hug. "I'm so glad you could join us. It's always a pleasure to have you."
Jenna's polite smile didn't falter, but the slight tightening of her jaw betrayed her frustration. "I wasn't aware we were expecting any additional guests," she said, her tone carefully neutral.
"Oh, I invited Lila last minute," Margaret said dismissively. "I knew it wouldn't be any trouble for you, Jenna."
"Of course not," Jenna replied smoothly, though the weight of the evening felt heavier with every passing moment.
As the soup was served, the conversation around the table began to flow. Margaret continued to steer the discussion toward Lila, praising her accomplishments and engaging her in lively conversation about work and travel. Jenna sat quietly, focusing on the food, her presence barely acknowledged.
It was during the second course-a citrus and fennel salad-that Jenna excused herself to check on the next dish.
The main course-roast lamb with rosemary and garlic, served with dauphinoise potatoes and green beans-was plated and presented with her usual care.
But as Jenna moved through the rest of the evening, her mind remained stuck on the conversation she had overheard.
Max's words echoed in her head, each repetition stinging more than the last.
By the time dessert-a rich chocolate fondant with a molten centre-was served, Jenna felt as though she were moving through a fog. As she passed the hallway, she heard voices coming from the dining room. She paused, recognizing Max's voice, low but insistent.
"I just don't get why she doesn't do anything," Max was saying. "Dad's out there running a company, making things happen, and Mum... she's just... here. She doesn't even work."
Jenna's breath caught. She edged closer, her heart pounding as she listened.
"Max," Lila's voice replied, smooth and measured, "it's not uncommon for some people to find fulfilment in simpler things. Your mother probably feels like running a household is her contribution."
Max snorted. "Running a household? Come on. It's not like she's raising kids anymore. Lilly and I are grown. What does she even do all day?"
Lila chuckled softly. "I'm sure she does her best, Max. But you're right... your father is an extraordinary man. It's hard for anyone to measure up to someone like him. "
Jenna felt her stomach twist. The dismissiveness in their words cut deeper than she expected.
She had always known Max admired Troy, but to hear him so casually diminish her role.
.. it was almost too much to bear. She turned away before they could see her, her hands trembling as she returned to the kitchen.
The laughter and chatter around the table seemed distant, as though she were watching the scene from outside her own body.
Margaret's voice broke through her reverie. "You really must share your thoughts on that new gallery opening, Lila," she was saying. "Troy mentioned you've been keeping an eye on it."
Lila smiled, the picture of composure. "I've been meaning to. It's always wonderful to stay connected to the art world. Troy has such an eye for these things."
Jenna's grip on her fork tightened. She glanced at Troy, hoping for some acknowledgment, but he seemed engrossed in the conversation, his focus entirely on Lila. Her presence at the table felt more invisible than ever. She caught Grant watching her, a shadow of sympathy in his eyes.
When the evening finally drew to a close, Jenna stood in the kitchen looking out at the garden while washing Troy's favourite crystal by hand as he preferred while the muffled voices of Troy's family drifted in from the other room.
She had mastered the art of being a gracious hostess, of smiling through the tension, but tonight, it had cost her more than she was willing to admit.
The waitstaff moved around her, clearing the dishes, putting the leftovers away.
As she turned off the water from the sink and dried her hands, she caught her reflection in the window.
The woman staring back at her looked tired, worn down by years of trying to be enough for a family that barely seemed to see her.
For the first time, Jenna allowed herself to feel the weight of it all that she had tried to ignore over the years.
The sharp sting of being diminished by the people who were supposed to love her most.