«We weren’t expecting you,» said my daughter as she opened the door on my birthday.
«Why do you always interfere in my life?» Emily’s voice trembled with irritation. «I’m thirty-sevena grown woman!»
«Interfere?» Margaret Wilson spread her hands helplessly. «I only asked why you and David broke up. Im your motherI worry.»
«Youre my mother, not my investigator,» Emily turned toward the window. «I have my own life. My own reasons.»
Margaret sighed, carefully folding the half-finished scarf into her bag. Another failed conversation with her daughter. There was always this wall between them, growing higher each year.
«Fine, I wont ask anymore,» she said, trying to smooth things over. «It just seemed like you two were happy…»
«Mum!» Emily spun around sharply. «Lets just drop it, all right? Dont ruin our first family dinner in weeks.»
Margaret nodded and fell silent. She visited less and lessEmily was always busy with work, friends, the gym, some course or another. There was hardly ever time for her mother.
Leaving her daughter’s flat that evening, Margaret felt lonelier than ever. Her sixtieth birthday was in a week, and there was no one to celebrate with. Her husband had passed three years ago, her friends had scattered, and her daughter was wrapped up in her own world. Maybe it wasnt worth marking the occasion at all.
But at home, flipping through old photos, she found one of little Emily blowing out candles, cheeks flushed with excitement. Back then, Margaret had worked as an accountant, barely making ends meet, but she always managed a proper celebrationcake, presents, friends.
«My birthdays in a week,» she thought, «and even my daughter forgot. Should I remind her?»
She reached for the phone but stopped herself. No. She wouldnt beg for attention. If Emily forgot, then so be it. What did a number matterfifty-nine, sixty? Just days on a calendar.
Yet the thought lingered. Days later, she finally called.
«Hi, Mum,» Emilys voice was distant, as if she were multitasking. «Everything all right?»
«Yes, fine,» Margaret hesitated. «Just wanted to saymy birthdays this Saturday. Turning sixty.»
«Oh, really?» A flicker of surprise. «Completely slipped my mind. Works been mad…»
«Its all right,» Margaret said quickly. «Just thought Id mention it.»
«Sorry, Mum,» Emilys tone softened. «Ill try to stop byaround five?»
«Perfect,» Margaret brightened. «Ill bake your favourite cherry pie.»
«Brilliant. Got to dashwell chat later.»
Hanging up, Margaret felt a rush of energy. She hadnt been forgotten after all.
Saturday was unusually bright for April. Margaret woke early, cleaned the flat, baked the pie, even popped into the salon for a trim. She bought a nice bottle of wine, Emilys favourite cheese, fresh fruit. She wanted the evening to feel specialmaybe even bridge some of the distance between them.
But by five, Emily hadnt arrived. Nor by six. Calls went straight to voicemail.
«Stuck at work, maybe,» Margaret thought, glancing at the clock. «Or traffic.»
By seven, she was worried sick. What if something had happened? Her mind raced with worst-case scenarios.
Finally, she called a taxi and headed to Emilys. Maybe her daughter had simply forgotten.
Pulling up, she spotted Emilys car parked outside. Relief, then confusion. She was homejust not where shed promised to be.
Margaret climbed to the fifth floor and rang the bell. After a long pause, the door swung open.
Emily stood theredressed up, hair done, makeup flawless. Behind her, laughter and chatter.
«Mum?» She blinked in shock. «We werent expecting you…»
Margaret froze, clutching the bouquet shed bought herselfa small comfort for a lonely celebration.
«II got worried,» she stammered. «You didnt come, didnt answer…»
A man appeared behind Emilytall, bearded, in a crisp shirt and jeans.
«Em, whos?» He spotted Margaret. «Oh, hello!»
«This is my mum,» Emily turned, then back. «Mum, this is Andrew. Were… seeing each other.»
«Pleasure,» Margaret managed, shaking his hand.
Andrew smiled warmly. «Lovely to meet you! Emilys told me so much.»
A womans voice called from inside: «Em, hurry up! The pastas getting cold!»
«Coming!» Emily shouted, then winced at her mother. «Weve got a little get-together. II completely forgot about our plans. Im so sorry.»
Margaret swallowed the lump in her throat. On her birthday, her daughter was hosting a partyand hadnt remembered.
«Its fine,» she forced a smile. «Ill go. Dont let me interrupt.»
«Wait,» Emily frowned. «Since youre here, come in. Meet everyone.»
Margaret hesitated but stepped inside. The flat was livelyvoices, clinking cutlery, music.
«Were planning a surprise for Lucy,» Emily explained, taking her coat. «Her fortieths next week.»
*And you forgot mine*, Margaret thought but said nothing. Why ruin Emilys night?
The kitchen was fulltwo women around Emilys age, another man. They were brainstorming ideas, papers and props scattered about.
«Everyone, this is my mum,» Emily announced. «Mum, this is Claire, Sophie, and Tom.»
«Hello!» they chorused.
Margaret nodded, feeling out of place.
«Mum, hungry?» Emily asked. «Andrew made seafood pasta.»
«Oh no, Ive eaten,» Margaret retreated. «I should go.»
«Dont be silly,» Andrew cut in. «Stay for dessertweve got cake.»
Margaret spotted itchocolate-glazed, elegant. Not for her.
«Really, I must be off,» she turned to Emily. «A quick word?»
In the hallway, Margaret pulled an envelope from her bag.
«For your new coatyou mentioned wanting one.»
«Mum, stop,» Emily frowned. «I earn enough.»
«Just a gift,» Margaret insisted. «Take it.»
Emily pocketed it reluctantly. «Thanks. But you shouldnt have.»
Margaret smiled tightly. «Have fun.»
«Wait,» Emilys frown deepened. «Why did you come? Is something wrong?»
Margaret froze. Did she genuinely forget?
«Its my birthday, Emily,» she said quietly. «Sixty today. You said youd come at five.»
Emily went pale. «Oh my God. Mum, II completely blanked! With Lucys party planning, I»
«Its all right,» Margaret shrugged. «Just a number.»
«No!» Emily grabbed her hands. «Its your *sixtieth*! And I»
She dashed back to the kitchen. Margaret heard urgent whispers, then gasps.
The group emerged, led by Andrew.
«Margaret,» he said grandly, «youre cordially invited to an impromptu birthday dinner!»
«Absolutely!» Claire chimed in. «Well rearrange everything!»
«You dont have to» Margaret protested.
«Nonsense,» Emily cut in. «Mum, stay. Were celebrating you.»
Before she knew it, Margaret was seated at the head of the table, champagne in hand.
«Cakes sorted,» Sophie said. «CandlesEm, those dinner ones?»
«On it!» Emily dashed off.
«A toast,» Andrew stood. «Margaret, though weve just met, its clear youre remarkable. No wonder Emilys so wonderful. Happy birthday!»
«And may your daughter remember next time,» Tom added, earning a nudge from Emily.
Candles were lit (fewer than sixty), cake served, gifts improvisedEmily gave her a pearl-inlaid jewellery box shed bought for herself.
«Forgive me,» Emily whispered. «Im a terrible daughter.»
«Youre just busy,» Margaret patted her hand.
«No excuse.»
The evening turned warm, laughter-filled. They flipped through photo albums, shared stories, and Margaretfor the first time in yearsfelt truly seen.
Andrew drove her home late. Emily came too.
«Mum, can I stay over?» she asked at the door. «Talk properly?»
«Another time, love,» Margaret smiled. «Im tired. Go back to your friends.»
«Theyve left,» Emily waved it off. «I want *you* tonight.»
Over cherry pie and tea, they talked until dawnabout Emilys breakup with David («He wasnt ready»), meeting Andrew («Reached for the same book»), her new design studio dreams.
Margaret listened, advised, *connected*like when Emily was a teen sharing secrets.
Days later, Emily returnedwith flowers, another cake, and a real gift: a summer holiday for two.
«Remember our seaside trips?» Emily asked as Margaret gaped at the tickets. «Now *Im* treating *you*.»
«You dont have to»
«I *want* to,» Emily said firmly. «After all youve done for me.»
Sipping tea, making plans, Margaret realised: sometimes you must arrive uninvited to remind them youre there. And even if youre unexpectedyou might still be wanted.
