Uncle Rob appears at the back door. “Do you like turkey?” he barks at Amanda.
She turns on an instant smile that I’m absolutely positive is fake.
It has to be.
How can she not be feeling guilty to the core of her soul at how upset Lorelei will be when we “break up”?
Which is now happening in no more than aweek.
“I love turkey,” Amanda says. “But not as much as I love fruitcake.”
Lorelei stifles a smile.
Uncle Rob stares at Amanda. “Someone get her a piece of fruitcake.”
“Am I being selfish if I ask for the whole loaf?” Amanda replies.
Uncle Rob stares harder.
Dad pushes one of the fruitcake plates with an entire fruitcake to Amanda.
Aunt Teeny provides a fork.
Grandma stares in silent disapproval.
And Amanda dives in.
No gagging. No funny faces. No flinching.
Instead, her eyes slide shut, and a smile teases her lips as she chews her first bite.
A soft mewl escapes her lips. “Oh, god, I’ve missed this.”
“When have you ever had it?” Uncle Rob asks.
“I snuck it to her at school all the time.” Lorelei’s wiping her eyes and beaming at us.
“And I sometimes order it under my roommate’s name,” Amanda says as she digs in for another bite.
She doesn’t sayI know it’s wrong to love fruitcake.
She doesn’t sayThis is so embarrassing.
She just dives in like my family’s fruitcake is her oxygen.
Have I been had?
Is this really about her not wanting to inherit her family’s gingerbread bakery, or is this about her wanting easy, free fruitcake.
I mentally shake myself.
It’s not about fucking fruitcake.
But I still think she likes the fruitcake more than she’ll ever honestly like me.
Liking me isn’t the point.
Ending the family feud is the point.
