Almost.That means she’s probably standing in her knickers in the middle of her room playing with her stuffed animals, having completely forgotten we’re in a big rush.
“Come right down, honey! I still need to help you with your wig.”
No answer. I know exactly what’s going to happen. I’m going to have to go up there and finish dressing her, even though she’s fully capable of pulling a T-shirt over her head and pulling up a pair of elastic-waist bell-bottoms. Plucking my coffee mug off the table, I take three giant gulps of the sweet and creamy mixture that has now gone cold. I don’t even like coffee when it’s hot, let alone when it’s cold, but it’s pretty much what I’m fueled by, so it’s either that, or lie down on the floor and have a twenty-hour nap.
The sound of the stairs creaking indicates that Aunt Dolores is on her way down. Dolores is an unapologetic seventy-one-year-old bachelorette. Do not call her a spinster, not if you know what’s good for you. Milo and Puddy Tat, the tiny Siamese brother and sister, arrive ahead of her and trot into the kitchen, catching sight of Knickers, who is still bashing the ribbon around. Sighing, I cut two more pieces of ribbon and drop them onto the floor to avoid a catfight under the table.
I quickly draw a set of wedding bells and write:
For the happy couple, Amber and Dane,
Congratulations!
With love,
Brianna, Isabelle, and Aunt Dolores
“Did you finish wrapping the ridiculously expensive bowl?” Aunt Dolores asks, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.
I start when I glance at her because she looks more than a little terrifying with a nylon pinned to her head in preparation for her Cher wig. She’s also wearing way too much eyeliner for a woman her age. “Why anyone needs a seventy-five-dollar bowl is beyond me. That thing won’t hold any more lettuce than the one I bought at Goodwill for a dollar.”
“Yes, but this one is very classy, so when they have guests over, everything will look just so.”
“It’ll look like they’re suckers who wasted the better part of a hundred dollars on a damn bowl.” Her gaze moves from the box to me. “Although technically, you bought it, which would make you the sucker.”
“Promise me you won’t say anything about the cost of the bowl—or their registry. You’ll hurt Amber’s feelings.” I raise an eyebrow at her. “Also, I should point out that she’s very nervous about our family meeting Dane’s.”
“What’s to be nervous about? Are they weird or something?”
“Not them. Us,” I say pointedly. Amber’s a bit of a delicate flower on account of everyone treating her like one since she was born four weeks early. She had a bit of a respiratory problem that she quickly grew out of, but for some reason, my parents remain certain she could stop breathing at any moment. She’s skinny and gorgeous like our mum (and unlike me who is built more like our big-boned father), but I still love her. Since getting engaged, the delicate hot-house flower has become a delicate bride-to-be. Unfortunately, Aunt Dolores couldn’t care less about coddling my little sister, so the unspoken expectation for today is that I will keep her under control. Since no one has been able to manage that task for seven decades, I really don’t have a hope in hell to do it now, but I have to try anyway. “Please, for my sake, just behave today so I won’t have to deal with a sobbing bride-to-be.”
“I’ll try.” She sniffs. “But I’m old, and sometimes I get confused.”
That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard. Aunt Dolores is as sharp as a tack, and even though she most certainlyhasa filter, she chooses not to use it. “Auntie…” I say in a warning tone.
“What? I’ve got one foot in the bloody grave. I should be allowed to speak my mind. Besides, whatever happened to the days when young people respected their elders?”
“Pretty sure those days were a myth carried down through the ages, like the brontosaurus or decent men. Now, where’s your costume? We have to leave soon.”
“I know that. I’m not thick in the head.”
“I’m not suggesting you are. I’m merely wondering why you’re still in your bathrobe?”
“Because I don’t want to get my Cher costume dirty while I’m finishing making my cheese people.” She walks past me and over to the fridge.
“Oh God. Not the cheese people today, please?”
Dolores’s head pops up from behind the fridge door. “And what exactly is wrong with my cheese people? They’re a very big hit everywhere I go.”
In lieu of the more popular hedgehog-style cheese balls, Dolores likes to shape processed cream cheeses into people she knows. Because the people only have four limbs as opposed to a hedgehog having hundreds of spikes, there is a total of four pretzels per cheese person on the plate. So once those are gone, it’s just generally two blobs of cheese that sit uneaten until the end of the party. I tried to point that out to Dolores once, but apparently, it’s by design, because if no one can eat it, everyone can enjoy her creation the entire time.
She sets the plate down on the table and beams at it.
“Is that…?”
“Yes, it’s the bride and groom. I used Velveeta for their faces since they both seem to like tanning so much.”
I stand, momentarily transfixed by the terrifying figures in front of me. The bride and groom are both dressed in white from head to toe and have big bulgy eyes made of green olives. Completely ignoring the horror on my face, Aunt Dolores smiles lovingly at her creation. “I took the pimentos out of the olives to make their lips. Kind of a nice touch, don’t you think?”
