“Well look who made it!” We all whip our heads back to the front door, where Ms. Angela just materialized, closely followed by Marcy who looks extremely uncertain.
What the hell?
“Gail! Didn’t I tell ya it would go easy peasy?” Ms. Angela pulls on Marcy’s long sleeve T-shirt to bring her inside the house. “You didn’t meet Marcy yet, did you? Come here and say hello, darlin’,” she says, still talking to Gail.
Gail is now unsteadily on the third step, holding onto the railing, her skinny legs wobbly on her spiky heels.
“Don’t move!” Marcy says. “I’ll come to you. You’re quite the little trooper, braving ’em stairs with…” she frowns and bends slightly… “five-inch heels?” She hoists herself to Gail’s level, places both her hands on Gail’s shoulders, and declares, “We’re family now! Come and say a proper hello.” Then promptly places a loud kiss on Gail’s cheek, takes a step back, looks at her daughter, and says, “What’s for dinner?”
Willow seems to be teetering between horror and hilarity. “Stuffed turkey breast with morels and fingerling potatoes,” she recites robotically as her mother comes down the steps.
“Welp, you sound tense. I brought some gummies. It’s for my pain, but it works for lots of things.” She pats the bulge in the pocket of her too-large pants. “Got my stash right here, you just let me know.”
“I might need one,” Griff mutters.
“What did I miss?” Beck says, returning empty-handed from Gail’s bedroom. “What happened to your skirt?” he finds smart to ask Gail.
Ms. Angela claps her hands. “Lane, dear, I think Gail will want to freshen up?”
Lane and Gail seem to unfreeze as they promptly resume the trek that will take them up the stairs, down a hallway, and up another set of stairs.
“Well, I’m gonna leave you to your awkward family reunion,” Chloe says, chuckling once Gail is out of earshot. “Moose, come here, boy. We’ve got lots to tell Daddy.”
Ms. Angela snickers. “ECHoes is gonna be warming up tonight!”
fifty-one
Willow
“Mother, a little more gravy?” Lane says, taking Gail’s plate and loading it with food. She’s been playing the part of the doting stepdaughter to a T, and one of the side effects is that Mom is literally and figuratively sticking by my side.
“No carbs, Delaney, no carbs. Carbs are a woman’s worst enemy,” Gail declares for the third time.
“I’ll have just the gravy,” Mom states, handing her plate across the table. “The bird is too dry for me. Pour it on that piece of bread, will you, sweetheart?”
Noah smiles at me over the length of the table. We’re each at one end, with Gail, Griff and Mom on Noah’s right, Lane then Beck and Angela on my right, which frames me with Aunt Angela and Mom as my private security guards.
Gail sniffs nervously, “That’s quite a jump in stations for you, Willow, isn’t it?”
This again?
My stomach clenches so hard I’m about to throw up. This whole evening has been the most bizarre and stressful and even comical at times butthis? And in front ofMom? How dare she?
Gaze fixed on her, I hold her stare. “I’m sorry—what do you mean?”
“Although,” Gail continues, “I suppose you’re just continuing the family tradition, right?”
Don’t look at Mom. Don’t look at Noah.Youbrought this mess here.
Squeaky wheel. This isyourbattle.
Droplet of grease.
“What tradition?” Beck asks in the deadly silence. I don’t know if he’s not reading the room, or if he, like me, wants to push Gail. Have her say it out loud. “Mother?” he insists sarcastically. “Care to elaborate?” He takes a long draw straight from his beer bottle then sits back in his chair. I half expect him to burp loudly, but he spares us.
Noah clears his throat, takes his glasses off.
Not his battle to fight.“Working to pay for your expenses,” I say before Noah tries to rescue me. “It can be jarring when you’re not used to it.”
