Piper and I turn to Gina, who’s stowing her camera in her purse. “Wow, Gina,” Piper says, beaming, “Trina was amazing!”
“Yeah,” I add. “She really danced her tail off.”
Gina’s expression oozes motherly pride. “She did. I’m so proud of her.”
“Me too,” I snort. “God knows, you couldn’t have gotten me on a stage when I was nine.”
“When was that, last week?” Piper says, smirking.
I tap her arm with a closed fist. “Quiet, you.”
Gina gives me, then Piper, a warm hug. “Thank you both. It means the world to Trina—and to me—that you came.”
“It was our pleasure,” Piper says.
“Well, I’m gonna go mingle with the other moms. See you soon.” One last smile, and she disappears into the crowd.
I point across the room, where a refreshment table has been set up. “Would madame care for some fruit pun
