“Sorry we’re late, everyone. Bailey and I couldn’t decide which shoes would look best with her dress.”
My seven-year-old niece, as beautiful as her mother, stuck out a ballet-slippered foot from beneath her pink dress, a proud grin causing her cheeks to glow.
I lowered myself to one knee. “Looks like the perfect choice to me, Bailey.”
Her grin widened, and she released her mother’s hand as she moved toward me. She made it a step or two before she skipped and started to run.
“Bailey!” My father’s voice cut through the room, freezing Bailey mere inches from me and erasing her joyful smile. My father didn’t need to say anything else. The message was clear. To both of us. Get control.
Dustin spoke up, mimicking our father’s tone. “Kayla, why don’t you take Bailey—”
“How’s my girl?” I swept Bailey up into my arms and cut off my brother before he could lecture my sister-in-law on how she should have better control of their daughter, or make Bailey sit in time-out in the other room.
Bailey gave me a tentative grin but didn’t say anything, quickly refocusing on her father. Without waiting or looking at Dustin, lest he think it a challenge, I carried Bailey to the sofas and took a seat beside Mom. “Here, show Grandma and me these shoes you picked out.”
Playing her part perfectly, Mom grabbed one of Bailey’s feet, lifted it into the air, and ran her finger over the pink silk shoe, making Bailey smile once more.
Tension filled the room for a moment longer until Dustin, obviously deciding the battle wasn’t worth his time, returned his attention to our father and renewed the subject of flight patterns.
Kayla took a seat next to me, giving my knee a squeeze in thanks as she addressed my mom. “I am sorry we’re late, Maureen. Time got away from me.”
Mom gave her a pointed smile. “Well, if you’d let the maid help you like Dustin suggests, you wouldn’t have to take the time.”
Kayla’s breathy voice was barely audible as she tried to speak without my brother hearing. “Oh, but I can’t. Soon Bailey will be old enough that she won’t want me helping her pick out clothes. I don’t want to miss these years. I’m sure you understand.”
My mother gave her another look, and I nearly laughed but caught myself. She definitely didn’t understand. The maid had dressed me, and by the time I got to the age I wanted to pick out my own clothes, that hadn’t been allowed.
Kayla realized her mistake, though how she continued to misstep after eight years in the family was a mystery. And one of the reasons I loved her. “Well, if you had girls, I’m sure you’d have been the same way. But raising boys. Very different.”
I jumped in before Kayla could dig herself any deeper. “Well, you both look wonderful.” I bumped my forehead against Bailey’s. “Maybe after dinner you can come down to the dock with me. I’ll carry you on my shoulders so we don’t get your shoes dirty. Sound good?”
Bailey nodded, but before she could respond, my mother drew in a quick breath, cutting off all conversation in the room. She reached across Bailey and me and moved her hand toward Kayla’s face, but pulled back before making contact. “What did you do?”
It took me a second to realize what she meant, but Kayla understood instantly; she lifted her right hand and pulled at a strand of hair behind her ear. I couldn’t believe I’d missed it. I’d been too focused on Bailey. “I got it done today.”
Oh dear Lord. I wished she’d called and asked her gay brother-in-law’s opinion. Not that I thought the cotton-candy-pink lock of hair looked bad. It was great, actually. She could have passed for one of the Barbie dolls with hair that changed color. But at the very least, I could have helped her make sure this was a battle she wanted to take on with her mother-in-law.
Her voice trembled slightly. “You don’t like it?”
Mom managed to uncurl her lips before speaking. “You’ll need to get that fixed tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Kayla clutched the strand of hair tighter.
Dustin spoke up, his voice firm as he addressed my mother in a way he wouldn’t have spoken to his own. “Maureen, Kayla does not need to change her hair. All of the actresses and young women are dying their hair bold colors now.”
Dad cleared his throat. “It needs to get fixed,” he said inthattone—the one that made my favorite spot seem not nearly far enough away. He didn’t look at Kayla, but kept his eyes trained on Dustin, leaving no room for challenge. “Your wife is not an actress or in a sorority house. We are Morgans. Kayla is a Morgan.”
There was no other explanation offered or needed.
Dustin didn’t hesitate. He turned his hard gaze on his wife. “Fix it tomorrow.”
DINNER WASa fairly simple display of french onion soup, grilled salmon, and flash-fried kale. It was delicious. Mixed emotions battled in me as I watched Bailey grimace with every bite she took. She hated onions, fish, and anything green. A seven-year-old eating kale without complaint was impressive. I too had displayed the same discipline when I was seven, impressive or not, and I knew the other side of that skill was the constant pressure to be a certain way. No questions asked.
“You will be able to make it, correct?” Mom drew my attention back from my niece.
“I’m sorry, what?”
Though she phrased it as a question, there was no disguising the command. “I was asking if you’ll be able to attend my benefit? I assume you don’t have other plans on the Fourth of July this year?”
