Amber closed her eyes and allowed herself a generous sip of her wine as Eric recounted her biggest victory in the Diagnostics Department. God, warning him that her family was difficult hadn't been enough; she should have trained him in what to and what not to say.

"Goodness," she heard Aunt Jude say, and she could just imagine her holding a hand to her chest, her mouth opening slightly with awe. "I have homemade bread at home! Eric, do you think I'm at risk?"

But her mom had started to speak at the same time as Aunt Jude, and her voice was louder. "Ah, yes, that story. Amber's told us all about it." No doubt about it; there was a light tone of recrimination. It'd have been one thing for her mom to boast about her daughter's feats over and over to her friends and acquaintances-- another entirely for her to have to be subjected to the same facts more than once.

"Even I've heard it," Geoffrey piped in. "I'm starting to think she hasn't done anything else there. Admit it, sister, you're handing out tissues to people with the common cold."

Amber smiled thinly, as she knew he'd said it as a supposed joke. No one laughed, but no one berated him either. That was alright. She'd learned to stick up for herself long ago. "And you're still getting men to pay nothing in alimony and child support, ha ha." There, see how much he liked that joke. He frowned, as did Leila, but Amber was within acceptable boundaries. Her mom would later rebuke her for the comment, but that was a small price for self-defense.

For now, the other price was the stiffening tension that overtook the room. A few stilted seconds passed, punctured only by Aunt Jude's sudden exclamation of the cold.

"Am I interrupting something?" her dad asked from the doorway, coming back.

"Nothing much," Amber's mom, tilting her head up at him and her relief unsubtle. "Who was it?"

"Brian-- guess what."

"They missed their flight," her mom said flatly.

"It was canceled," he corrected. "They won't get here until tomorrow."