“Nothing’s wrong.” She waves me off again. “He’s got a little heartburn.”
Oh, shit. “Mom.” This can’t be happening. Sure, my dad is nearly eighty, but the man is healthy as a horse. He never stops moving.
Now, she looks at me. “That’s all it is, sweetheart.” She reaches out and takes my hand in hers. “Just a little acid reflux. Swear.” Squeezing my fingers, she adds, “Getting old isn’t for pussies, honey.”
The use of the word “pussies” catches me off guard. I cough. Choke is more like it. “Mom.”Jesus.
Changing the subject like a pro, she says, “The reason we stopped by was to tell you that we’re starting up our Sunday Fundays now that we’re back. It’s your turn in two weeks.”
Sunday Funday. That’s what Mom calls Sunday dinners for the Munsel family. I hate hosting because my place is tiny and my family is huge. I’ve got three sisters, two of whom are married and one divorced. Along with the two remaining spouses, I’ve got two nieces, one married, one single. There’s one married nephew, and three single nephews all of whom are close to my age. One of those nieces has a child which makes my sister Connie a grandmother. Which means we’ll be crammed inside my place like sardines if the weather isn’t good. If the weather is okay, I’ll force people to head out back.
Her lips are pinched together, and her brows are raised like she’s holding her breath waiting for my response.
The thing is, I ordinarily get out of hosting things because a, my house is tiny, and b, it’s not my thing. “Candy will—”
“No.” Mom shakes her head. “I want you to do it at your place.”
I started to say that Candy would host for me, but I guess that’s not going to happen this time. “She doesn’t mind.” Honestly, she probably does mind. But that’s neither here nor there.
“Colette.” Mom’s voice has gotten low, which means this has turned into a serious discussion. “It’s your turn to have the family over. Enough with this…” She waves her hand around as she gestures at what, I’m not sure. “With this distance you’ve got with all of us.”
Okay. Now that’s something I haven’t heard from her. Ever. “I’m not distant.”
She lowers her arm and takes a small step closer. “You are, and you know it.”
Do I?
“You know it’s true, and frankly, I’m tired of it. It’s time you became a full-fledged member of the Munsel family.”
Blowing out a frustrated breath, I mumble, “Fine.” Looking over at my sweet father, I add, “I’ll barbeque. Weather permitting.”
“Oh, good.” Mom gives me a bright smile like she didn’t just tell me I’m not a member of my own family. “Your father will be thrilled.”
No. That’s not good. My dad and the grill are a dangerous combination. “No, I’ll—”
Squeezing my hand again, she leans closer. “You know grilling is your father’s passion. He’d be devastated if—”
“I know, Mom.” Dad loves to grill. She’s right. But he’s terrible at it.Reallyterrible. “Sure,” I say resignedly. “If it’s nice, Dad can grill.”
“Well, let’s hope for good weather, because you know your sisters won’t let him near their grills.”
It’s true. None of my sisters let him cook. They use the excuse that their husbands would be offended if another man took over the grilling duties, and since I don’t have a husband or even a boyfriend… You get the idea.
“Who’s hosting next week?” It’s been several months since our last Sunday get-together.
“Connie.” Reaching into her back pocket, she retrieves her phone. I watch as she presses some buttons. “I need to remind Connie…”
At least Connie has room for all of us. She and her husband, Mark, have a huge house on acreage outside of town, which is great because their grandson, David aka Dash, needs room to run. Lots and lots of room. Trust me.
“Thanks for letting me see the truck.” My dad pats Sam on the back as they approach the porch.
“No problem, Steve.” Sam gives me a little wave as he heads toward his front door. Of course I’m watching him go. Who wouldn’t?
“Please tell me you’ve tapped that.” Mom’s voice is right up against my ear. So close I can feel her hot breath on my cheek.
Unfortunately, as I stated previously, for some reason my mothercannotwhisper. She tries, but it always comes out raspy and loud. Loud enough for everyone to hear.
I know that’s the case here as well because Sam looks back at us and chuckles.
