She watched me wipe the sweat from the back of my neck with the edge of my apron.
Then she raised her voice so the nearest guests could hear.
“Do your duty as a wife,” she said. “A successful man needs a woman who understands service.”
Several people chuckled.
One of Ivan’s golf partners stared into his drink.
A woman near the patio door gave me an uncomfortable smile, the kind people use when they recognize cruelty but do not want the inconvenience of challenging it.
I looked at Ivan.
He had heard his mother.
He did not defend me.
He smiled and lifted his glass.
That smile stayed with me as I turned back to the grill.
“The chicken needs five more minutes,” I said when he walked over.
He ignored me, reached around the open lid, and tore off a piece before it was ready.
He chewed once.
