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The dining room had been transformed into what looked like a magazine spread. Vanessa had moved our grandmother\u2019s antique candlesticks to make room for her equipment, relocated the family photos to create better angles, and even changed out the napkins for ones that \u201cphotograph better\u201d under her lighting setup. She directed her cameraman around the table like she was shooting a commercial, which in many ways she was.<\/p>\n
Patricia bustled around her eldest daughter, adjusting and re-adjusting everything to meet Vanessa\u2019s standard. The turkey that had been cooling for the perfect serving temperature was now under heat lamps to maintain its appearance for the cameras. The side dishes were rearranged three times to create more visual appeal. Even the flowers had been replaced with a more photogenic arrangement that Vanessa had brought from Portland.<\/p>\n
I had learned long ago not to comment on these productions. Growing up, I\u2019d made the mistake of pointing out the absurdity more than once, only to be met with lectures about \u201csupporting family\u201d and \u201cunderstanding that some people have bigger dreams than others.\u201d The implication was always clear: I was small-minded for not appreciating Vanessa\u2019s vision, jealous of her success, threatened by her ambition.<\/p>\n