There is a brief silence. “It’s the holidays. Life events or not, holidays do funny things to families.”
“True.” We stand in silence as I finish a plate of snacks with a bowl of nuts in the middle. I hold it up, ready to serve. “Let’s get back in there.”
“Yeah, I already hear Bo getting fussy.”
“My parents have that effect on people.” I snort a laugh.
Arriving back in the living room, my parents are sitting on the couch, praising Bo for merely blowing a bubble. “I could just eat you up, yum, yum, yum.” My mother is on the overboard train, but it causes Summer to grin wryly.
“Thought we could use a snack that’s not the baby,” I announce and set the plate down on the coffee table.
“A good idea. Perhaps you and I can have lunch tomorrow at the Dizzy Duck?” my father suggests. “I want to see what’s been done with the place since I handed over the reins.” Instantly my head retreats in surprise that he wants lunch alone with me, and that humors him. “What? Thought we avoid one another the next few days?”
I don’t blink, and my entire body is uncertain, but it’s an olive branch that’s more the size of a twig, and I will explore that. “You didn’t suggest golf, so that’s already a bonus.” I adjust my neck. “Sure, we can meet tomorrow.”
The room grows eerily quiet, and my mother notices. “Sounds like tomorrow is all set for you two. I can watch Bo, and Summer can have a bit of a rest.”
“Oh, that’s okay. Nash has carried a lot of the weightaround here, so I’m actually all rested up,” Summer informs everyone, and she seems to notice that my mother glances sidelong at my father. They have a secret language.
“That’s wonderful. Then Summer and I can grab coffee and head to the grocery store for our Thanksgiving list.” My mother’s smile feels sincere enough. “It will be the last holiday in the house. The realtor mentioned that there is an interested family, and they will likely put in an offer after the holiday weekend.”
Somewhere inside of me, I find that disappointing. Memories swept away, but then my eyes move to Summer, and I’m reminded of them all over again, except this time new memories trickle in.
“Sounds like we all have plans for tomorrow,” my father announces.
That odd chill swirls in the room again as we all exchange glances.
Summer reaches out to collect Bo. “You know, I think I’m going to get his dinner ready. I try to get him in bed by seven.”
“Okay, dear.” My mother smiles.
“I’ll do bath time later,” I say just like it’s our usual day.
Lines form on my father’s forehead from my readiness to help. I dial it down to the fact that me with a child is a far cry from my reckless nights as a hockey player. “Well, sounds like you both have a busy hour or two, so we’ll leave you and see both of you tomorrow.”
“Good night.” Summer smiles.
It’s a quick round of goodbyes and hugs for Summer and Bo before the air clears, and then it’s back to being Summer, Bo, and me. The three of us.
The unusual emotion that flows through me causes me to wonder if I stopped breathing, which isn’t even logical.
“I’m not sure what I was assuming the welcome would be. I guess I have only seen your parents a few times since the funeral.” Summer lifts a shoulder. “They probably need a night to let it all sink in that they’re back in Lake Spark.”
I study Summer for a good long beat, and I don’t want to burst her bubble as she seems to believe her words.
But I don’t.
My hands splay out.“So that’s the Dizzy Duck in present day,” I say after the end of our tour and walk toward a table in the corner by the double windows for lunch.
There wasn’t much to show since my dad was here a few months ago. Still, his attachment to this place will never vanish, and that’s understandable.
“Well, now it’s time to check out the menu,” he tells me as he sits down, and the smile on his face isn’t a lie.
Joining him by sitting across from him at the table, I’m feeling more confident that this might be a bearable lunch. “Seasonal specials, right? Maybe I can ask the chef if he can make a few of the upcoming holiday courses that will start next week after Thanksgiving. We were waiting for the decorations to come up.”
“Nah, it’s okay. I’m sure it will just be chicken roulade with cranberry compote.”
It causes me to chuckle. “A classic, eh.”
