An audible breath bled out of Colt, his chest rising and falling, and he shook his head. “Told you.”
“I know how she is.” She kept her voice low as they stepped into the large living room with its plaid couches and navy wing chairs that were cleverly concealed recliners flanking the fireplace. Mr. D sat in one, the thin remnant of the Sunday Herald in a neat stack on the table next to his chair.
“Hey, Daddy.” Colt moved forward to hug his father when he rose. Holly glanced at the side wall, where Colt’s senior portraits were hung a tad too high, next to the shadow box with Nicole’s baby items, the pretty little pink dress and bonnet she’d never worn home from the hospital sharing space with her delivery room bracelet and inked footprints.
He was serious and unsmiling in both photos, the one with the fake tux and the casual shot down by the springs at Radium, one foot propped on a concrete bench, leaning forward with his elbow on his knee. His haircut was too fresh in those pictures, and that yellow and white pinstripe shirt. What had Sue been thinking?
She dragged her attention from the display, smiling and stepping up to greet his daddy with a hug. “Mr. D, it’s good to see you.”
“Glad you’re here.” Mr. D patted her shoulder with an awkward hand, then nudged Colt’s arm, mingled affection and correction. “Give your mama a little warning the next time.”
“Yes, sir.”
Holly bit the tip of her tongue and focused her attention on the built-in shelves either side of the fireplace. Mr. D and Mrs. Sue’s wedding photo – good Lord, the puffy sleeves on that dress and that long lacy train – Colt’s infant photos from Olan Mills, one or two school photos, a few awkwardly posed shots of the Calvert grandchildren together. The frames were great quality, but those pictures . . . swapping out a few with more updated shots would make it so much better.
Golly, she sounded as nitpicky as Sue herself.
Maybe it was the house, the air of desired perfection seeping into her brain.
But maybe if Nicole had lived . . . Mrs. Lenora liked a beautiful home, too, but Tick’s boyhood home didn’t have this anxious expectation to it. Having six children probably meant giving up on perfection.
Nicole’s unexpected death had shattered Mrs. Sue’s perfect life, and somehow, the pieces hadn’t fit back together the same way. So she’d tried harder and harder to make everything fit, to make everything flawless.
A melancholy sigh trembled through her. That was a lot for Colt to carry, and how much sense would that have made to a little boy when he was three?
No wonder he was a hot mess sometimes.
Sidling closer while he answered his daddy’s question about his new job, she grasped his hand, wound their fingers tight. Losing track of his reply, he glanced down at her, a quizzical light in his dark eyes. She squeezed his hand and smiled, her reward a lightening of his stance and his quick grin.
“So you’re thinking you might stick with this management job?” Mr. D settled into his chair. Plastic rattled in the kitchen, and the refrigerator opened and shut.
Colt’s fingers flexed about hers, almost a spasm. “I can see myself sticking it out.”
“It could be a good opportunity for you.” Mr. D folded his ankle over his knee. “A longterm kind of thing, like a career.”
Holly’s gaze lit on a five-by-seven of the Calvert boys on the dock at Mr. Gene and Mrs. Louise’s old house at the river. Del and Will knelt together in that familiar wrist-on-the-knee pose, and Chuck was front and center, criss cross applesauce. Behind them, Tick and Colt stood together, and Tick had slung an arm over Colt’s shoulders, the two of them sharing a laughing grin instead of looking at the camera, mischief and camaraderie all over their faces. Even in that moment, Colt was a little more serious than Tick, but he grinned, happy, all the same.
Mrs. Sue stepped to the doorway, a tense set to her smile. “Y’all come on to the table before this bread gets cold and the salad wilts.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Colt graced his mama with a gentle smile and nudged Holly toward the dining room. She caught a glimpse of those flawless place settings, the carefully arranged food, and cast a quick glance back at that photo, Colt and Tick before that perfect part of life shattered, cutting them both so deep they’d never recovered.
She needed to spend some time with Sue, for sure.
And maybe . . . she needed to spend some careful time with Tick, to see if those shattered pieces could be melded together into something beautifully imperfect once more.
Chapter Nine
RSVP coming Thurs night or not
Holly stripped off her gloves and dumped them in the trash, staring down at her phone on the countertop. Why did Scott need an RSVP? They’d never done that. She’d always just planned for a huge crowd of their friends and acquaintances, and a huge crowd showed up—
She sucked in a deep breath and held it for a count of four, trying out that meditation technique Barb was teaching Lyssa when she had a meltdown. More than likely, Barb had picked up the tip from Caitlin, who was the epitome of serene, even when she looked like she wanted to throw up around them.
This wasn’t her party.
This wouldn’t be her party ever again, and that was okay. She released the breath and picked up her phone. For days she’d thought about not going, but that was ridiculous.
Yes plus one
