Five minutes later, the reception doors opened.
Colin walked in carrying a large cardboard box in both hands.
When I saw it, I covered my mouth.
The moment Joyce saw it, her smile vanished. She grabbed the edge of a table.
“Colin,” she whispered. “You wouldn’t do that to your own mother.”
He set the box down and opened it.
Inside were several handbags, jewelry boxes, silk scarves, and other accessories I’d heard Joyce brag about for months.
“What’s all this?” someone asked.
“Mom asked me to keep these in my car,” Colin explained. “She wanted to change outfits for the evening reception. Apparently, one designer handbag wasn’t enough for today.”
A few guests chuckled.
Colin picked up a familiar-looking purse.
“Mom, how much did you tell everyone this cost?”
“Colin, this is ridiculous!”
“Four thousand dollars?”
“That’s none of their business!”
“You made it everyone’s business when you spent half the afternoon telling people.”
He turned toward the guests.
“These are counterfeits. Every single one.”
Joyce gasped.
“How dare you!”
“Mom, you told me yourself where you bought them online. You even showed me the website and made me promise not to tell anyone.”
Linda leaned forward, suddenly very interested.
“Wait. So my ancient handbag might actually be worth more?”
Nobody answered, but several people laughed.
“You’re humiliating your own mother!” Joyce snapped.
“You poured wine on my wife’s wedding dress and told my daughter she didn’t belong in our family. I think we’re a little past worrying about this.”
Joyce opened her mouth, but Colin continued.
“You could carry a ten-dollar purse for the rest of your life, and I wouldn’t care. But you don’t get to make other people feel worthless because they don’t own expensive things.”
Joyce folded her arms.
“At least my accessories LOOK expensive! At least I understand quality! That girl clearly doesn’t!”
I looked at Paige, still clutching another stained napkin.
That did it.
There was something Colin didn’t know. And I was finally going to tell him.
“Actually, Joyce, that’s interesting. Because a few months ago, Paige’s sewing was apparently good enough for you.”
Colin turned toward me.
“What?”
Joyce went rigid.
“Don’t you dare.”
“Oh, I think it’s time.”
I looked at Colin.
“A few months ago, your mother came to our house with a dress she claimed cost four thousand dollars. One of the seams had split, and apparently, her usual tailor was unavailable.”
“Mom, you asked Paige to fix your dress?”
“She’s making a mountain out of a molehill!”
“Paige was thrilled,” I continued. “She thought Joyce was finally taking an interest in her sewing.”
I remembered how excited my daughter had been.
“She spent an entire afternoon repairing it. But while she was working, she noticed something strange. The designer label had been stitched over a cheap manufacturer’s tag.”
A murmur spread through the room.
“It was one little seam!” Joyce protested.
“And Paige fixed it?” Colin asked.
“Well, yes, but that’s not the point!”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, we’re just getting to the point.”
Joyce looked ready to swallow her own tongue.
“Three days later, she came back with an envelope full of designer labels. She wanted Paige to sew them into several ordinary dresses and jackets.”
Colin stared at his mother.
“You seriously asked her to do that?”
She scoffed.
“That’s a complete exaggeration!”
“Really? Because you told me Paige should be grateful for the opportunity to work with luxurious clothing.”
“Well, she should have been!”
“Except the clothing wasn’t luxurious, Joyce. That was literally the problem.”
A few guests snickered.
Paige finally spoke.
“I remember that dress. The stitching was so bad I had to redo half the seam.”
“Nobody asked you!” Joyce snapped.
Paige blinked.
“You did. That’s kind of how this whole thing started.”
Linda burst out laughing.
I stepped closer to Joyce.
“So let me get this straight. Paige’s hands were good enough to repair your precious designer dress. They were good enough when you wanted fake labels sewn into your clothes. Now suddenly her work was embarrassing?”
Joyce opened her mouth.
Closed it.
For once in her life, she had absolutely nothing to say.
And nobody rushed to rescue her from the silence.
Colin stared at his mother.
“I don’t care whether your handbags cost ten dollars or ten thousand. I care about how you treat people.”
“Colin, I’m your mother!”
“And Paige is my daughter. You don’t get to decide whether she belongs in this family.”
Joyce looked scandalized.
“I deserve some respect!”
“Then try showing some. Apologize to Paige.”
Joyce sighed dramatically.
“Fine. I’m sorry. Weddings are stressful, and the wine—”
“The wine didn’t insult my daughter,” I interrupted. “You did.”
Colin nodded toward the doors.
“Mom, I think you should leave.”
“You’re throwing your own mother out?”
“I’m asking someone who hurt my family to leave.”
Joyce grabbed her handbag and marched toward the exit, muttering about ungrateful children.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Linda raised her battered old handbag.
“Well, at least nobody tried to expose my collection.”
The room erupted in laughter. Even Paige managed a small smile.
Joyce had spent years trying to prove her possessions were worth thousands.
But the most valuable thing at our wedding was something my daughter had made herself. It had never needed a fake label to prove its worth.
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