He was right. This was really no big deal. Some nice people inviting me to share Thanksgiving dinner. That’s all it had to be.
“Will there be pie?” I asked, and he laughed. He honest to God laughed. His eyes crinkled up and I could see his teeth. I never saw his teeth.
Of course they were perfectly white and straight.
“Pecan,” he finally said, after he stopped chuckling. “My father loves pecan pie.”
I took a deep breath and nodded. “Sold.”
TWENTY-TWO
GRANT
His sister was someone he could never successfully lie to.
“Well, I’m going to bed,”my mother announced.
It was later that night, and my family was as settled in as they could be in this house. There were times I could admire the architectural achievement of the blend of colonial Spanish with modern sprawl, but sometimes it was hard to find a room where we could relax. The official living room had high arched ceilings, cut in sunroofs in the terracotta roof, and floor to ceiling windows that arched around a courtyard with a very large fountain in the middle of it.
I’d never cared for that fountain.
So we’d gathered in the library. It had the most comfortable furniture and an air of intimacy that a family reunion required.
I was sipping on some ridiculously expensive scotch when my mother crossed the room to kiss me on the top of my head.
“Seriously, Mom?”
“Don’t be so fussy,” she told me. “You love it when I fawn over you.”
“All right,” my father said, groaning as he stood up from where he’d been sitting in one of the chairs. “I’ll come too.”
“You don’t have to,” my mother said. “But I need to be up by the crack of dawn if I’m going to have everything ready tomorrow. Anna had everything delivered just as I asked, but I’m still going to want to go over all the ingredients one more time in the morning.”
“That’s your OCD,” I reminded her.
“How else do you think dinner goes off without a hitch?” she chided me.
“Mom,” Rebecca said, stretched out on the other side of the leather couch, her sock covered feet precariously close to touching me, which I assumed she did on purpose to annoy me. “I said I would help. Can we set the rules, now that you’ll let me?”
My mother smiled. “Of course not. I’ll gladly accept your help.”
Rebecca turned to me. “She’s not going to let me help. She never lets me help. She always says I can help, but then she pushes me out of the way and does everything herself.”
“She’s not going to let you help,” I confirmed.
“I am so!” my mother protested. “As long as you agree to do it exactly my way.”
“And there it is, the catch,” Rebecca said, and took another sip of her wine. Out of the fancy wine glass I’d never had the chance to use.
I smiled with mild amusement and wasn’t unaware that I’d been doing that most of the night. My family was utterly frustrating, but I’d forgotten how much I liked them. It occurred to me I really had no reason for not going to Florida to spend time with them over the holiday.
It just always felt easier to stay away. Less…emotional.
“Come on, Jackie,” Dad grumbled, herding my mother out of the room. “Let’s get you to bed and you can think of all the things you’ll let Rebecca do to help.”
“And don’t forget Flowers. She’ll want to help, too,” I said. “She’s not someone who can sit still if things are happening around her.”
Suddenly, there was this weird silence, and when I glanced up, everyone was watching me.
