But I follow her as directed and fill a glass with ice water and lemon, Dad’s drink of choice, while Mom takes down another Christmas plate and instructs me to grab a cloth napkin and silverware.
I steal a peek at the men chatting in the living room. Dad is in his recliner. Knox sits on the hearth, stockings and a blazing fire setting the coziest of scenes.
“Don’t look so nervous, honey.”
I strain for another look. “Do you think Dad will like him?”
“I don’t see how he couldn’t.”
My muscles relax. Knox has won Mom over hook, line, and sinker. Even as a grown adult, a parent’s happy approval means the world.
She goes to the edge of the living room, where Knox and Dad are engrossed in conversation. “Alright, you two. Come along. Dinner is served.”
In the dining room, Dad places his turned up palms on the table, and we all take hands while he prays, thanking God for the food and for safe travels home.
“Knox here has been telling me all about himself, Everly,” Dad says with a loaded fork almost to his mouth.
With my fork slipped under the first bite of squash, I smile at Knox. A flicker of discomfort has edged aside his normal easy manner, making me wish I could squeeze his hand. I would be nervous meeting his family, too.
The creak of hinges stalls the meal a second time.
“Helloooo. Anybody home!”
The front door slams. Oakley barrels around the corner of the dining room, dragging a suitcase. Wheels click against the faux wood flooring. “Surprise!” She flings her arms wide, as in,ta-da, party can now start.
Mom and Dad shoot to their feet.
“Dad?” Oakley races to embrace him. He pats her back as she holds on extralong. “I’m so glad you’re here!”
“Me too, sugar. Me too.”
Joy beams from Mom.
“What are you doing here, Oak?” My voice rises above the flurry of slowly subsiding greetings.
Released from all the hugs, she turns, placing her hands to her hips. “What do you think I’m doing here, sissy? It’s Christmas, duh.”
“I though you were spending the holiday with friends.”
She slides her purse down her shoulder and tosses it onto the floor by the buffet. “Changed my mind. Immature friends aren’t the same as family.”
Mom and I exchange looks.
Oakley pivots, slightly, but unmistakably, to Knox and puts her hands to her skinny hips. I could swear they share a silent exchange on a topic the rest of us don’t have a clue about.
She flicks her index finger back and forth between him and me. “What’s going on here? Update, please.”
“Oakley.” Gracious, little sisters are the worst.
“What? I need to catch up. You and the big guy are a for-real item now?”
“Oak. For crying out loud.” Subtlety has never been her gift.
Knox curls my fingers in his. “I thinkitemworks.”
Oakley’s eyes narrow. “So you’ve told her then?”
“Told me what?” Instinctively, my gaze skips back and forth between the two of them. My smile begins to feel like a ball that hit its high point and hangs midair right before the descent.
