I tried to match his excitement.
“I hope I survive the inspection.”
“There won’t be an inspection.”
“You have never met my extended relatives.”
He laughed and kissed my forehead.
“They can be formal, but they’ll adore you.”
I believed him because Lucas had never given me a reason not to.
We met Ingrid and Klaus at their harbor hotel after they arrived.
Ingrid was elegant, silver-blond, and perfectly composed after an eleven-hour flight. She wore a navy blazer that probably cost more than the first car I owned. Klaus was broad-shouldered, with gray hair and the quiet authority of someone accustomed to being heard without raising his voice.
Ingrid kissed both my cheeks.
“So lovely to finally meet you.”
Klaus shook my hand.
“We have heard many things.”
“Only good ones, I hope.”
“We will see.”
Everyone laughed because the sentence sounded like a joke.
The first evening went well.
We took them to a seafood restaurant downtown. They asked thoughtful questions about my business and our wedding. They complimented Charleston’s architecture and listened while Lucas described his work.
Near dessert, Ingrid switched briefly to German.
“Her dress is tasteful,” she said. “Better than I expected.”
Klaus glanced at me.
“She still dresses like an American.”
I lifted my coffee cup.
Perhaps I had misheard.
Then Ingrid added, “At least she is prettier than the woman he dated before.”
Klaus nodded.
“Yes, though not particularly elegant.”
The conversation returned to English.
I said nothing.
On the drive home, I considered telling Lucas. Instead, I told myself they were tired. International travel made people careless. One unkind exchange did not define an entire relationship.
The next morning, I invited them to my design studio.
My employees arranged flowers and ordered pastries from a neighborhood bakery. Sunlight entered through the tall restored windows, warming the exposed brick and long drafting tables.
Ingrid admired the space.
“This building is charming.”
“Thank you.”
She studied framed photographs of completed restorations.
“You designed these?”
“My team and I did.”
When one of my employees stepped away, Ingrid turned toward Klaus.
“Not bad.”
“For American taste,” he answered.
“She clearly earns money.”
“Money does not create refinement.”
“No, but perhaps she will improve after marriage.”
I continued the tour without reacting.
The comments became a pattern.
At our backyard barbecue, they mocked the neighbors who arrived without formal invitations. They questioned the sweetness of the peach cobbler and the size of the hamburgers. They smiled warmly in English and criticized everyone in German.
Lucas noticed that I had become quieter.
“They’re different,” I told him.
“They’ve always been formal.”
“I noticed.”