1. Ophelia
ONE
Ophelia
W hen they say that was the last straw, how many others came before it?
Can you count them?
Do they even matter when the final one hits?
For me, the last straw was when Sebastian decided that another work meeting was more important than being there for me with my daughter and son when I got my master’s degree in business from Savannah State University.
Not only that, but I had graduated at the top of my class and was recognized by being invited to be a student speaker.
It was an honor, and as I sat in the front row on stage, waiting for my name to be called out, I looked around to see if Sebastian had come.
But the seat next to my daughter Ada was empty.
I had told myself not to expect much, to brace for the inevitable disappointment, but a small, foolish part of me had still hoped.
Well, nothing could be done about that now, could it?
For the past three years, since Sebastian had taken over his family’s company, Boone Metals when his father had a stroke, our lives had changed.
He’d become obsessed with work—and the man who’d at least made time for his family had disappeared into the caverns of the factory, saving the company.
Even as Boone Metals consumed him, even as he missed countless dinners, recitals, and games—he had been there when it mattered most.
At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
He’d shown up for every one of the kids’ milestones—birthdays and graduations, even if he was perpetually in a hurry to get back to a meeting.
The dean of the business school stepped up to the podium, clearing his throat.
“And now, it is my honor to introduce a very special graduate, someone who embodies perseverance, resilience, and the courage to reinvent oneself. Please welcome our student speaker, Ophelia Boone.”
Applause filled the auditorium.
I took a breath, stood, and made my way to the podium.
As I stepped in front of the microphone, I scanned the crowded auditorium once more, as if I could have somehow missed him in the sea of faces.
But there was no mistaking the truth.
I knew Tristan was watching from a FaceTime window on Ada’s phone, who was smiling proudly.
She was practically vibrating with excitement.
Sebastian hadn’t even texted to wish me luck, to say congratulations, to apologize for not being able to make it.
He had left for work even before I woke up this morning.
I swallowed against the lump rising in my throat.
I spent twenty-two years being his support system, holding together everything with the family and our home while he built a career, traveled the world, and made a name for himself.
And when he walked away from his own company to take over Boone Metals, I had been patient as he buried himself in salvaging his family’s legacy, waiting for him to come up for air—to see me.
But I wasn’t his legacy, and since the kids left home, they and I both realized they weren’t either.
The family company always came first.
I shrugged the disappointment off.
No way was I going to let Sebastian take away from my joy today.
I smiled widely.
“It’s an honor for me to be here, a place I never thought I’d be. At forty-four, I’m one of the oldest in our cohort…well, except for Jim.”
Some clapping and laughter followed.
“He and I partnered on a lot of our projects. We were called the Geriatric Duo.”
More laughter.
“Twenty-one years ago, when I found out I was pregnant with my oldest child, my son, Tristan, I put my professional dreams on hold. And I don’t regret it—not for a second. I raised two incredible children, built a life, and supported my husband. I built a family I’m very proud of. But somewhere along the way, I forgot something important: myself .”
I looked at Ada, who nodded animatedly and gave me a thumbs-up sign.
“I came back to school thinking I was too old, too out of place. I wondered if I was making a mistake. But what I learned here—what we all learned—is that growth has no deadline. Reinvention has no expiration date. And the world won’t hand you a second chance—you have to reach for it yourself.”
I took a deep breath, the words spilling out of me.
I’d practiced them for the past week, but they didn’t feel rehearsed.
They seemed to come from deep within me, speaking my truth.
“For those of us who took the unconventional path, who started later, who juggled jobs and families and late-night study sessions—we did it. We proved to ourselves that we are more than what we’ve been, more than what others expect us to be. Today isn’t just a celebration of what we’ve achieved. It’s a reminder that it’s never too late to become who we were meant to be. So, let’s go out there. Let’s build, let’s create, let’s start over if we have to. Let’s never stop becoming.”
The applause was loud, and I grinned when I saw Ada jumping up and down, holding the phone because she couldn’t quite clap.
I was sure Tristan was telling her to stand still because everything was shaking for him on screen.
There were a few more speeches, but I barely heard them.
My pulse pounded in my ears as I sat with my hands clasped tightly in my lap.
Then, finally, the moment came.
One by one, the graduates crossed the stage, their names echoing through the auditorium, followed by cheers from family and friends.
My breath caught as the line moved forward.
Then?—
"Ophelia Boone."
I stood, straightened my gown, and walked forward, my heels clicking against the polished stage floor.
For a brief moment, I felt the pressures of the past few years—the late-night study sessions, endless assignments, and the struggle of balancing coursework with running a home.
All the time, I wondered if I was crazy for starting over at this stage in my life.
But once I stepped onto the stage, shook the dean’s hand, and accepted my diploma—that pressure lifted away.
I had a degree.
My degree.
A spattering of applause rang out, and through the noise, one voice rose above the rest—Ada, shouting, “Go, Mama! That’s my Mama, y’all. Isn’t she awesome?”
I let out a breathless laugh, my chest tightening with pride, relief, and disbelief.
I held the diploma tight, feeling its substance in my hands—proof that I had done this, that it wasn’t just an idea or a dream anymore.
As I made my way back to my seat, the initial rush of triumph gave way to something else—excitement laced with fear.
The degree was only the beginning.
Now came the real challenge.
I had no job lined up and no concrete plan on how to find one.
I wasn’t young and fresh out of school.
I was forty-four, starting from scratch.
Who would take a chance on me?
Would my skills mean anything to an employer after spending decades as a wife and mother?
Doubt crept in, cold and insidious, but I pushed it back.
I had come too far to let fear win now.
Ada hugged me when I made it out to the garden, nearly knocking the diploma from my hands as she squeezed me tight.
“I’m so proud of you, Mama!” She beamed at me.
I sank into the warmth of the moment and my daughter—wrapping around me like sunshine.
“I can’t believe it’s over,” I admitted, shaking my head.
“After all those late nights and coffee-fueled study sessions…I actually did it.”
Ada grinned.
“And you killed that speech! Seriously, people were moved. One lady in the row behind me was crying.”
I chuckled, brushing a stray hair from my face.
“I was just trying to make it through without tripping over my words.”
“Well, you didn’t trip at all! You were amazing.” She looped her arm through mine as we strolled along the pathway.
“So…how does it feel to be officially done?”
I exhaled, glancing around at the other graduates celebrating with their families.
Some had jobs lined up already, futures mapped out.
I had nothing but an empty house to return to.
“I feel relieved and …proud,” I confessed.
“I also feel a little like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, about to jump.” I let out a nervous laugh.
“I need a job, Ada. And I have no idea who’s going to hire a forty-four-year-old MBA graduate with zero experience in the field.”
Ada nudged me playfully.
“Mom, you ran our entire household for decades. You managed finances, schedules, and logistics. You basically have CEO-level experience—you just didn’t get paid for it.”
I smiled at her optimism, even as doubt lingered at the edges of my mind.
“I hope someone else sees it that way.”
“They will,” she assured me firmly.
“And if they don’t, they’re idiots.”
“Well, no one ever called me an idiot,” a stern voice from behind us said.
I turned to see Betsy Rhodes.
The Betsy Rhodes—the First Lady of the Savannah society scene, married to Atticus Rhodes of the Rhodes Family.
She was not from the South; in fact, she was from Boston.
She was known for being blunt and wielding her influence with pleasure and precision.
I swallowed.
“Mrs. Rhodes.”
“Betsy, please. Mrs. Rhodes was Atticus’s Mama, and she was an absolute nightmare. May God rest her soul.” She grinned mischievously.
“How are you, Lia?”
Betsy Rhodes looked regal in her Chanel peach-colored skirt suit.
She had an air about her that made you want to bow to her like you would a Queen.
“Very well, thank you. Ah…this is my daughter Ada.”
Betsy held out her hand and shook Ada’s.
“And what do you do, Ada?”
Ada, who had no fear and self-esteem in the gazillions if there was a counter for it, didn’t seem to care, even if she knew that Betsy was one of the most powerful women in Savannah.
“I’m studying Public Policy at Emory.”
“And what do you want to do when you grow up?” she asked, bemused.
“I want to be a public servant. Hopefully, one day, represent Georgia in Congress.” Her confidence made me proud because I’d never have been able to dream the way she did, had never been allowed to.
Betsy nodded.
“How wonderful. You have an older brother?” She raised an enquiring eyebrow.
I wondered how she knew that.
I mean, everyone knew about the Rhodes family, but she didn’t know everyone else’s.
My mother-in-law and sister-in-law would kill to be invited to one of her exclusive soirees, but I, not so much.
I wasn’t part of the Savannah society scene.
I was a soccer mom, then I became a student, and now…
I was in limbo.
I had been to the parties I couldn't avoid, but I stayed as far away as I could from the society set, which I thought was vapid and uninteresting. My close friends were from my days at NYU and New York, where I was still on a group chat. We did Zoom cocktails at least once a month and met up once a year.
In Savannah, I had acquaintances, usually the mothers of the children my kids befriended. Some of them were awesome, and we got along; some were stuck up, and we didn’t.
According to my mother-in-law, Dolly, and Sebastian’s sister, Colette, who went by Coco, my lack of pedigree—as in I was born and raised in New Jersey in a middle-class home—meant that I lacked social skills.
This hadn’t been a problem while Sebastian wasn’t running Boone Metals, but now he was, and they were more in my face than ever, and, even worse, my husband wanted me to get along well with them for the sake of business.
“My brother is finishing up his master’s in social work at NYU,” Ada stated, her head held high. “He’s working at the public defender’s office in Queens right now as an intern.”
Betsy looked at me with admiration. “You certainly have raised two very socially conscious children, Lia. Congratulations.”
I stilled at that. No one in Sebastian’s family ever said that to me. According to them, the kids should be working toward taking over Boone Metals. I’d told my babies to do what they wanted, and when Sebastian pressured them, I stood in front of them, pushing him back. It was one thing for me to comply with his wishes and quite another for our children to give up their dreams in the name of a legacy that they didn’t want to have anything to do with.
“Thank you. They are pretty awesome. But I think it’s despite me and not because of me.”
Ada put an arm around me. “Aw, Mama, you know that’s not true.”
“So, Lia, is this MBA thing a vanity project, or do you want to do something with it?” Betsy sounded insolent, and I felt Ada stiffen.
“Mama is not vain,” she quipped politely but definitively.
Oh God! It wouldn’t do for her to piss off the First Lady of Savannah, which was not a city but a small village, considering how everyone knew everyone and their business.
Betsy didn’t seem to take offense and just waved a hand. “Darling, nothing wrong with a vanity project, hell I have a few.” Then she focused back on me. “You want a job, Lia?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
“I...I—” Don’t know?
“That’s fine. You have to figure it out; that’s how first jobs are.” Betsy looked over her shoulder. “Maggie darling, can you take Lia’s contact info and book her a meeting with Nina Davenport.” She faced me again. “Nina is a good friend, and she’s the CEO of?—”
“Savannah Lace,” Ada cut in. “She’s…she’s awesome.”
Betsy smiled. “She is. Do you know her?”
“I know of her!” Ada gushed. “Award-winning female CEO in Savannah who likes to hire all women…she’s cool. I know her daughter Bianca. I was her mentor in high school for a project we did on historic buildings in Savannah.” Suddenly, she beamed. “Actually, I’ve met your daughter-in-law through Bianca. Aurora Rhodes!. I just didn’t put two and two together.”
Betsy almost strutted when she heard her daughter-in-law’s name. “Aurora is brilliant. Honestly, so much smarter than my son…but then women are always smarter than men.”
Dolly would never say anything like that about me.
Maggie, who I assumed was Betsy’s assistant, stepped next to her boss. “Of course, Betsy, I’ll put Lia in touch with Nina.”
“Tell Nina it’s about the Back To Work project that we discussed last Sunday,” Betsy continued.
Then she gave Ada and me an appraising glance. “You know, you should come to my salon. We have one once a month, and we invite smart women like you. We eat good food, drink good wine, and talk. Maggie, can you invite them to the next one?”
“Yes, Betsy.” Maggie was taking notes on a tablet, not flustered at all. “Betsy, you have to leave now to make the meeting with the History Museum.”
Betsy groaned. “Speaking of vanity projects,” she muttered. “Fine. Now, let’s find Phoebe so I can hug her one last time before we leave.” She looked around and waved at someone. “That’s my goddaughter; she graduated today as well; that’s why I’m here.”
We met Phoebe, and while she talked to Ada, Maggie got my contact information.
“What was that?” Ada gasped after Betsy and her entourage left.
I bit my lower lip. “I don’t know. Do you think she was serious about the job thing? I’d love to work at Savannah Lace…as I don’t know what but… anything .”
“I think she was,” Ada said with more certainty than I felt. “Nina Davenport has a reputation for helping women and…I met Aurora Rhodes; she came to school when Bianca was presenting a project I mentored her on. I don’t know much about the ins and outs of Savannah society, but even I know of Betsy Rhodes.”
“She’s something, isn’t she?”
Ada nodded thoughtfully. “You know I’m not petty, don’t you, Mama?”
“Of course, baby girl.” I knew exactly where her head was at. “But it would be rather nice to be invited to one of Betsy Rhodes’ famous salons .”
Ada chuckled. “It’s gonna burn Mama and Aunt Coco’s ass.”
“For sure. But that’s not why I want us to go to this salon. It sounds like a great place to meet smart women like us.” I winked.
Ada giggled. “No kidding.”