Margaret’s throat moved as she swallowed. “Yes,” she admitted quietly. “I felt like if people knew where I came from, they would treat me like I was less.”
Lily nodded slowly, as if fitting pieces together.
“And that’s why you were mean to Mom?” Lily asked bluntly.
Margaret flinched.
“Yes,” she whispered. “That’s why.”
Lily sat back, absorbing it. Then she said, very softly, “That’s really sad.”
Margaret’s eyes filled. “Yes,” she said. “It is.”
Lily reached across the table and touched Margaret’s hand, small fingers over older ones.
“I’m getting made fun of at school,” Lily said. “Because my stuff isn’t fancy.”
Margaret looked at her like Lily had handed her a second chance.
Margaret squeezed Lily’s hand. “Do you know what’s truly embarrassing?” she said gently.
Lily shook her head.
“Needing other people to think you’re better,” Margaret said. “That’s the cheapest thing there is.”
Lily’s eyes widened. Then she smiled, just a little.
Margaret continued, voice steadier. “When I was your age, I would have given anything to have someone tell me that.”
Lily glanced at me. “Mom told me.”
Margaret nodded, tears spilling now. “Good,” she whispered. “Listen to her.”