THREE
Meat-smokers, Invisible Princesses, and Dish Towel Therapy
Tessa - 6 Weeks 3 Days
“There they are!” Mydad opens his arms wide for a big hug as Arthur helps me out of the Range Rover.
I hold my arms out to him, but instead he hurries over to Xavier. “We’ve missed you, Xav.”
“You too, Ruben. I’ve been meaning to call. Can you believe how Valcourt United has just fallen apart lately?”
I wait, my arms still in hugging position but my lips now pursed together in irritation. I glance over at Arthur, who looks far too amused by all of this.
He leans down and murmurs, “It’s okay, darling, you’re stillmyfavourite.”
My nieces and nephews interrupt my brooding, rushing over to us, all gangly limbs and chaos. “Uncle Arthur’s here!”
“It’s Uncle Prince Arthur, you idiot.”
“Not it’s not! It’s stupid to call him that.”
“You’re stupid.”
“You are!”
“I am so telling on you!”
Arthur bursts out laughing as he’s hugged by no less than three of them at once. “If it isn’t the Sharpe kids! Hello, boys.” He gives fist bumps to the twins, Josh and Geoffrey, as little Knox buries his head into Arthur’s pant leg, wiping what I hope is my mother’s homemade chocolate pudding all over his thigh.
The boys then say a quick and frankly disappointingly unenthusiastic “Hi, Auntie Tessa” before running to Xavier. He tends to pick them up four at a time, letting them hang from his massive forearms, so I guess the packages of Jelly Babies I brought aren’t exactly packing the same punch they once did.
The smell of smoked meat hits my nostrils, and a wave of nausea comes over me.
I hold my fingers under my nose and try to dissuade my stomach from heaving. Poppy, my eight-year-old niece, stops in front of me. I smile down at her. Poppy still loves me.
“You probably don’t have any Jelly Babies, do you?” She says, planting one hand on her hip and giving me a slightly disgusted look.
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
She breaks into a wide grin and drops her hand.
“But how about a hello hug for your auntie?”
“Hi, Auntie Tessa,” she says, wrapping her arms around me.
When she pulls back, she stares at my coat pocket expectantly. I pull out a package, and she snatches it out of my hand, then rips the corner open, reminding me of a tiny crack addict about to get her fix.
Popping one in her mouth, she says, “So, is it true?” She chews three times, swallows, then puts two more in her mouth. “You have a serious drinking problem now on account of all the pressure of being a princess?”
My eyes grow wide, and before I can deny it, Tabitha, my thirteen-year-old niece, is standing next to Poppy with a very serious look. “My dad said he knew you’d buckle under the pressure, but he didn’t think you’d turn to booze. He thought for sure you’d start overeating all that yummy palace baking and get really fat.”
“I’m not...I don’t...”
She holds out her hand and taps her palm. “I can hand out the Jelly Babies if you need to go have a glass of wine.”
“No, thank you. I’ll do it myself.” She’s not getting all the hugs I paid for. Those are my hugs. “And I don’t have a drinking problem or food addiction or any other addiction, thank you very much. I’ve never been happier.”
The smell of the meat hits me again, and I open my mouth to inhale a long breath, hoping to avoid the scent. My father finally notices that I’m here and wraps an arm around me. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”
