Fuck it.
What do I have to lose here?
Grandma glowers at me. “That Anderson man always passed gas in the grocery store whenever I’d come into the same aisle with him. And no one else ever had that complaint.”
That ... is not what I expected to hear.
“And that Anderson woman was always making comments about how her boobs were better than mine, and wearing skimpy clothes to try to get your grandfather to look at her, the hussy,” Grandma continues.
“Mom, I sincerely doubt Vicki Anderson’s goal in life is to lure Dad away from you,” Dad says.
“The minute she married into those Andersons, she became a different person.” She points at me. “If you do the same, you’re disinherited.”
“Were you related to Vicki Anderson?” I ask her.
“Of course not. Who’d want that bloodline mixed with ours?” She sniffs again, then turns and heads toward the door. “If you boys want me to buy lunch, you better hurry your butts up.”
Dad sighs, thanks the caterer, and quickly follows her.
Not for the free meal, I’m certain. More to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself while she’s mad at the Andersons, or they’d get blamed for that too.
I glance back at the caterer.
He shrugs. “Only thing I ever heard was that some relatives older than your grandparents used to steal clean clothes off the clotheslines the last time they lived next to each other, but I was pretty sure that was made up. And I could never get a straight read on who was the thief and who was the victim.”
After a tense lunch with Grandma where I debate leaving at least a half dozen times over the subtle jabs Grandma makes at my taste inwomen—including calling AmandaVanessaat least once, which I’m pretty sure was on purpose—Dad pulls me to the side. “I’m trying to appreciate your choices here, Dane, but there’s just so much bad blood between our families. Are yousureyou want to do this?”
“Farting in the grocery store?If that’s the level of crap that has our families fighting, then everyone needs to get over it. Until someone can tell me a real reason I shouldn’t marry Amanda, until you can tell me what the hellshe’sdone wrong, then she’s what I’m choosing.”
The image of her in that wedding dress is seared into my brain, and even knowing I’m lying, I believe myself right now.
“This is a big commitment—” Dad starts, but I lift my brows at him, and he sighs and stops. Objecting, anyway. “I suppose if it means you’re coming home—”
“We’re picking one of our cities and living there.”
“I heard a rumor that Amanda’s inheriting that gingerdead—gingerbreadbakery.”
“That’s an issue she and I will work through together with her family.” Mental note: Tell Amanda that’s what I told him. “Lorelei’s excited. Esme’s excited. Kimberly was incredibly gracious and kind when I had lunch with the Andersons yesterday. Is it asking too much that the rest of my family let go of something that doesn’t do them or the town any good?”
He sighs. “No. No, it’s not asking too much. It’s just ... hard.”
“I appreciate you trying.” Chili flops down at my feet. He’s been trudging along like a champ, but it’s time to get him home. “We’re gonna have to bow out for the rest of the day. Old man here needs a nap. And possibly a swimming pool.”
That earns me a look that I’d say was calling me an asshole if he were anyone other than my father. “I’ll tell your grandma.”
Ah.
Right.
Breaking bad news to grandma is no one’s favorite.
It’s too bad she and Vicki Anderson hate each other.
I think they could bond over their disappointment that Amanda and I are engaged.
“We’re tasting cake tomorrow morning at Reindeer Bakes,” I tell my dad. “You should come. Get to know Amanda yourself. You’ll see.”
He looks away briefly, then meets my gaze and nods. “I’ll clear my schedule. That would be ... nice.”
