Eleanor Brooks was still smiling when Vanessa passed her with the cake tray.
The dining room of the split-level house in a Columbus suburb was crowded with cousins, paper hats, and the sugary smell of blue frosting. Liam, Eleanor’s eight-year-old grandson, was laughing beside his presents while everyone shouted over one another. Vanessa, her daughter-in-law, moved from guest to guest, handing out plates of chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream.
Eleanor waited at the end of the table, one hand resting on the back of a chair, expecting Vanessa to circle back.
She never did.
Instead, Vanessa stopped in front of her, looked Eleanor up and down, and said in a bright, cutting voice, “You’re already fat enough. You don’t need cake.”
For half a second, the room went still.
