"Did you invite over the whole Pearson family or only Bill, Elizabeth, and Brett?"
"All of them," Journey responds.
"Brody rarely tags along to these dinners," Mom says. "Is he bringing his daughter?"
"Yes, Hannah will be here, and so will Parker, so you’ll have kids to play with," Journey tells Mom, knowing the desire she yearns for to have grandchildren.
"I didn’t know you spoke to Brody or talked to him at all in the last fifteen years,” I add my two-cents. I see Brody every other day when he picks Parker up for school, but otherwise, he hasn’t been around.
"Yeah, I ran into him a few weeks ago, randomly. I figured if I was inviting the family, it would be rude to exclude him, right?"
I toss the tomatoes into the salad bowl and dry my hands on the dishtowel draped over the sink’s faucet. "Well, I can’t answer this because I don’t know why you’re hosting a dinner party with Brett’s family," I remind her.
"Well, whatever," she says, grabbing the salad bowl and walking it into the dining room.
"You need to toss the salad, so the tomatoes aren’t all on top," Mom shouts after her.
Mom refuses to look at me, and I hate these types of surprises.Just say whatever it is you need to say and quit making it dramatic, I’d like to tell Journey.
The entire family arrives within a minute or two of each other, most of them walking into the house at the same time with a greeting of hugs and smiles as they remove their boots and coats.
"What a nice surprise," Elizabeth tells Mom. "Journey doesn’t usually plan the dinner parties. I’m eager to know the occasion." Everyone knows this is out of character for her.
"Well, come on in, the table is ready," Mom says, waving them in.
"Brody, it’s nice to see you!” Mom says, reaching up on her toes to give him a hug.
“Likewise, but I’m sorry I wasn’t able to make it to the funeral. I had to meet Hannah’s mother in Connecticut. She only goes to stay there when it’s a long weekend since we live six hours apart. Her decision, not mine," Brody says, oversharing.
"Dad, stop," Hannah says, sighing as she walks past her dad.
“How are you doing, Hannah?” Mom asks, holding her arms open for a hug.
“I’m well, thank you,” she says, giving Mom a frail hug.
"What nice manners you have," Mom praises her.
Hannah turns around and sticks her tongue out at Brody. I’ve seen their banter—the arguments about Hannah adjusting her attitude and being respectful to other adults. She’s a tween, though, and I sometimes I think he’s wasting his energy trying to shape her into a prim and proper girl, but I can’t blame him for trying. I think Brett may have it a little easier with Parker, since she is quiet and not as outspoken. However, I’m sure that can change over the next few years.
Brett finds me behind the crowd and wraps his arm around my shoulders, giving me a kiss on the cheek. "Hi, beautiful," he whispers into my ear.
I wrap my arm around his waist and squeeze since I can’t reach his ear to respond.
Parker makes her way through the small crowd and runs her hands down her sunshine yellow tutu I bought for her last week. It was the only color she didn’t have because she couldn’t find one anywhere, but I snagged one online. "You look like a ray of sunlight," I say, cupping my hand over my eyes as if she is too bright to look at.
"Except for these bad boys," Parker says with a giggle.
She’s pointing at her feet, and I look down to see her motorcycle-style boots laced up over her black leggings.
"Very chic," I tell her. "Nice taste."
Brett scrunches his face. "I don’t know where this kid gets her taste in style from," he says, ruffling Parker’s hair.
"I didn’t get it from anywhere. It’s my style," she argues.
"That, it is," he agrees.
We all find our way to the dining room, where there’s an awkward ring around the table as everyone decides where they should sit. Brett, Parker, and I claim one end, then Mom, Elizabeth, and Bill claim the other end, which leaves Journey, Brody, and Hannah in the middle.
