So is it better for me to be helpful and feed their suspicions to win them over, or is it better for me to stay out of it?
If we want everyone to get along, I have to prove I’m a nice person.
Best way to do that is to be helpful.
“You can stay out of my kitchen,” Grandma Vicki mutters.
“Did I tell you the Silvers are getting us a wedding cake from Reindeer Bakes? Oh, I did, didn’t I?” Amanda says. “That’s why you’re doing the flowers. Right. But I don’t think I mentioned that I saw Dane’s sister this morning on my way in. She offered to shop for a wedding dress with me. I’m thinking tomorrow or Thursday would be good for that. Can’t put it off much longer, can I?”
Kimberly and Grandma Vicki both suck in a breath.
It’s uncanny.
There are clear differences in their facial structures and their builds now that I’m looking closer, but their mannerisms are so similar. Amanda said at some point in the past day or so that Grandma Vicki won the daughter-in-law lottery when Kimberly married her dad.
I can see it.
“I’m taking you shopping for your wedding dress,” Kimberly says.
“And I’m making the wedding favors for the guests in addition to handling the flowers.” Grandma Vicki snorts softly. “Can’t have his family giving everyone fruitcake at my granddaughter’s wedding.”
“I like fruitcake,” Amanda says.
Kimberly gasps.
Grandma Vicki puts a hand to her heart.
“Oh, no, ma’am.” Amanda shakes her finger at her grandmother like she’s scolding a dog, and I have to suppress a smile. “You’re not pulling that baloney two days in a row. Go take your antacids and do whatever you have to do to come to terms with the fact that I love this man, I don’t care who his family is. And considering you can’t even tell me what they did that was so horrible, it’s high time you got over it.”
Both older women gawk at her.
I clear my throat and cross past a prep table covered in trays of raw gingerbread men and approach the mixer like I’m not having a reaction in my heart and my stomach to Amanda casually dropping anI love this man. “This happen often?”
“Only when—” Kimberly starts, but Vicki silences her with a look.
“Only when I’m around,” Amanda finishes. She’s almost cheerful about it. “Last time it smoked like this, it needed a new motor.”
“How quickly does your repair person usually get here?” I ask Kimberly.
She winces. “A couple days.”
“We’ve got this,” Grandma Vicki says.
I would not want to see her and my own grandma in a stare-down.
But instead of worrying about how the world could end if those two ever ended up in the same room, I angle for a look at the serial number on the mixer and do a little googling.
“We’ve got this,” Grandma Vicki says again.
I ignore her and look at Amanda. “Motor’s in stock at a place up in Grand Rapids. We can have it back here in two hours. Three or four, if we stop for lunch and ring shopping.”
Kimberly makes a noise.
But Amanda—
Amanda smiles so brightly at me that the sun itself pales in comparison.
And then she flings herself at me for a full-body hug and a hard kiss on the lips.
