“You’ve said a lot of things lately.” Jenna’s voice came from behind her.
From the glare she was giving me over Mom’s shoulder, I could tell she’d rallied since the other night. I sighed. Yup. This was going to be a long night.
“Perhaps you should start listening,” I said.
“Girls.” Mom’s voice had a sharp whip to it. We both backed down, settling for mutual glaring instead. “Aileen, come out of the cold. There’s no reason to be standing on the porch.”
I stepped inside, welcoming the burst of heat. Mom took my coat, hanging it in the hall closet as I followed Jenna into the living room.
Things had changed again since I’d last visited. There was new artwork on the walls, and if I wasn’t mistaken, the couch and rug were new too.
That was Mom’s thing. Decorating. The furniture and color of the rooms rotated almost yearly. Her house was in a constant state of flux. It used to drive me nuts as a kid. I’d always been the sort of person to get things the way I liked, and then not change them unless forced. I was a creature of habit and my mom just was not.
I paused as Jenna joined the group gathered in the living room. More people had shown up then I’d expected. My high school basketball coach, my aunts and uncles, a few cousins. At least they’d left the children out of this.
“Mom, why didn’t you tell me the rest of the family was coming to dinner?” I asked pleasantly. “You even got Donna to show up. How is the team this year? Doing well?”
Donna looked uncomfortable at the questions. “Not as well as when you were on the team.”
Uh huh. That’s why she continually benched me the moment we started losing. Because I was so good.
“Dinner’s almost ready. How about we sit down, and I’ll get the dishes on the table?” Mom met Dad’s eyes meaningfully, engaging in a wordless conversation that had been a hallmark of my teen years.
“Yes, that sounds like a good idea. I’m starving. Aileen, how about you help me set the table?” he asked.
I could do that.
From the way my mouth was watering, I could tell she had made beef burgundy, a dish she knew I loved. It would probably taste as amazing as always. There might even be conversation, laughter, but the meal hadn’t even started, and I was already tired of the game. I didn’t want to eat dinner like nothing was wrong, waiting until they decided it was time to do whatever it was they had planned.
“Sure,” I said, flatly.
My dad stood, walking with me to the silverware drawer with a slight hitch in his stride. He’d had that limp for as long as I remembered. It was the result of an old injury from when I was a kid. He moved smoothly and easily as if he’d taken the injury and assimilated it into his being. As if it was just another part of him.
We worked silently together, mirroring each other’s movements on opposite sides of the table.
“How’s work?” he asked.
“Fine.”
“Any interesting clients?”
“You know I can’t talk about my clients.”
His smile was stiff. “You don’t have to mention them by name. Who’s going to know if you share the unimportant things?”
“I will.”
His smile fell away entirely, and he bent to lay another setting. I grimaced. Way to make them think you’re normal.
“How’s your work going?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation going. This used to be so easy. When had I gotten so bad at small talk? We used to have hours of conversation on the smallest of things.
“Great. I got a new project.”
“What’s that about?” Perhaps I could do this after all.
“We’re getting ready to switch our servers over…”
I lost track after that. It wasn’t that I didn’t care. More that it was a lot of jargon that I didn’t understand and had no frame of reference for. Thankfully, I was saved when Jenna set down the drinks and Mom followed with the food. The rest of the party, all six of them joined us at the table.
