Chapter One #2
Iris oohed appropriately. She both loved and hated that she could clock the carat size at a glance—two point-five—but she’d done so much research when she and Ben were designing her ring, before she’d decided to use her mother’s stone. Before Ben had decided he couldn’t go through with it.
“So, Hannah told me you’re an architect, that’s cool,” Jorie said.
“I’m in architectural lighting design.” Iris watched the familiar disappointment and uncertainty register on Jorie’s face, but discussing her professional life was still preferable to the personal.
“I figure out how light is going to color a space, create mood, direct movement and attention, affect energy costs, etcetera. For example, see this stained-glass ceiling light above us?”
Jorie looked up and smiled flatly. “Pretty.”
“Yeah, but how does it make you feel?”
“Um, I mean…” Jorie shrugged.
“Right. You feel nothing. It’s kind of a bummer.”
Jorie chuckled. “Yeah, it is. Why is it such a bummer?”
“The glass is matte, so it’s flat and heavy-looking when it should feel lofty.
And the color temperature is wrong, a little too warm—which they could tweak, because it’s a laylight, meaning an artificial skylight.
The original glass dome was built in 1907, that was a marvel, made by Tiffany, all leaded glass, which is extra brilliant and gently textured, like what you see in cathedrals.
It would’ve looked like an airy lace veil under the sky.
But that was a hundred years ago, it fell into disrepair, was destroyed, built over, and ultimately replaced with this replica like fifteen years ago.
It’s still impressive, but it’s a glass lampshade over a giant ceiling light, and they didn’t get it quite right.
” Iris caught herself rambling. “Sorry, I think about this stuff a lot.”
“Please, I’m a teacher, I like to learn!” Jorie sipped her mimosa. “You can’t fake nature, I guess.”
Iris thought with a pang about making babies with IVF someday. “Well, to be fair, working in lighting is always about electrical engineering, art, and natural light. You need both science and nature.”
“True. You’d never know my diamond was lab-grown. It’s a real diamond, physically, chemically, it’s exactly the same. Only bigger! ” Her eyes flashed. “I say, life is short, get what you want.”
Three clinks of silverware on crystal cut through the din, and they looked up to see Hannah’s mom standing with her mimosa, preparing to make a speech.
“First, I want to thank you all for coming and especially to thank Iris for putting together this beautiful shower today. Baby Lefebvre is already so loved. And to my firstborn, and forever my baby, Hannah.” Her voice broke and she croaked a chuckle, her eyes glossed with tears.
“I’m sorry, this makes me so emotional. I remember the day you were born, and I was just…
in awe of you. I’d prayed for a girl, with blond hair like mine, and blue eyes like her daddy’s, and there you were, my dream come true. ”
Iris thought of her own mother. During the appointment, Dr. Alsarraj had asked about her mother’s history of fertility. “Did your mother have a hard time getting pregnant?”
“I don’t know. I’m an only child. I’m not sure if that was on purpose.”
“It’s worth asking her. Many women of her generation kept these types of troubles private, but genetics can be as big a factor as any in fertility.”
“She’s passed. Both my parents have.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Any relevant medical history there? Cancer?”
“House fire.”
“Oh, I’m very sorry.” It always threw people, but Dr. Alsarraj recovered quicker than most. Iris supposed a doctor of infertility was used to the ordinariness of unthinkable tragedy.
He spoke frankly. “Considering your current values and unknown variables, and the fact that our window to intervene is closing, I’d advise you to act now. ”
Cathy continued, “They put you in my arms and I thought, I cannot be happier than I am in this moment, because I had everything I ever wanted. But now I look at the beautiful, amazing, surprising woman you’ve grown into, who exceeded all of my dreams, and I think I will be even happier when my first grandchild is born. Hannah, I love you so much.”
Hannah stood up, teary too, and they embraced.
The guests clapped, several dabbing their eyes.
Iris never cried with people around, but she did feel a lump in her throat.
First, because she loved Hannah and her family like they were her own, and they deserved every ounce of this happiness.
But also because getting everything she ever wanted felt so far away—it always had, but today farther still.
Since her parents died, Iris had learned to moderate her wants and wishes, cutting them down to fit what was reasonable, realistic, and attainable.
If she didn’t ask for too much, she couldn’t be disappointed.
And as long as she planned for the worst, she couldn’t be surprised. Not again.
Yet somehow, as of this morning, she’d discovered she might have to renegotiate her expectations once again.
About what she wanted most of all.