I slide open the drawer to grab the grater, proud that I’m not fuming.Only, the drawer has salad tongs and spatulas in it instead.“So...the cheese grater?”
“Ah, I moved those to?—”
“It’s fine,” I say.“Healthier without the extra calories anyway.”I slurp the soup down while Trish stares at me.
“I’m sorry,” she says.“I hope I didn’t upset you.”Her face looks raw and vulnerable.
“Of course not.”I sigh.“You’re doing everything you can to be the best mother-in-law I could ask for, and I appreciate you.”That much is actually true, even if she gets a little annoying sometimes.“I’m about to go for a ride with the girls.”
“Oh good.”She claps.“Have a lovely time.”
And once I get there, and we get mounted, I spend the first ten minutes expecting the worst.But after that, when nothing bad happens, I relax.Foxy’s a doll, as usual.She’s a little frisky with the wind and the cooler weather, but the scenery’s gorgeous and the girls are laughing and happy, and a lot of my anxiety eases.
Until Natalie says, “So, how about Trace and Clara?”
“Oh.”I thought maybe we’d just never talk about it.
“Bryce kind of shut it down, but I doubt that’ll last,” Natalie says.“Not with teenage hormones, right?”She’s smiling, but I remember what she said.She thought they’d be a disaster.
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it since then.I get it.If there was a kid one of my friends was always struggling with, a child who kept making bad decisions...And then if someone tried to set Trina up with them?I’d be apprehensive at best.
“I’m sorry,” I say.“I wish...”
“Trace is good-looking, smart, and athletic,” Samantha says.“Clara’s not a dope.She knows what she wants.I think the kids will sort this out.”
Was Bryce right, though?If they date and then crash and burn, what does it mean for us?
“I think they will,” Natalie says.“And maybe it’s better if they do just sort it out instead of dragging it out, honestly.Kids get over things fast, but if we interfere, it might get messier.”
I breathe a tiny sigh of relief.It seems like Natalie’s not as panicked as she was.Maybe as Trace makes better and better decisions, she’ll worry less and less.That’s what I wanted when we moved here, isn’t it?A new start for him?I wanted him to make new friends for sure, and Clara’s just the sort of person who would never approve of someone throwing their life away.She’s allgirl powerabout everything.
Maybe she’s just what Trace needs.
Maybe in ten years, we’ll be planning their wedding.
Stranger things have happened.All in all, by the time I get changed for my final shift at the stupid pumpkin patch, doing clean up in the field we rented from one of the moms, I’m feeling a lot better.So far, Ireland hasn’t been nearly as scary as I feared.
Maybe, like my ride earlier, the more I sit on the horse, the more I relax, the more time I spend here, the better things will get.
Maeve even apologized.
I’m coming around the corner, dragging a bin full of rotten pumpkins to the compost area, when I hear them.
It’s Naomi, Maeve, and Ciara.
“—but how can we ever really know?”It’s Naomi.“I mean, he’s a volunteer, and I can’t imagine a better coach, but are our boys really playing with the best players?”
“Or did those American boys just get on because Jack has some fetish for middle-aged Americans?”Ciara laughs.“Her brownies?Ick.Like her, there’s no way people really liked them.”
“They were chocolate chip cookies,” Maeve says.“Not brownies.”
I wait for her to tell them they’re out of line.I wait for her to say that Trace is clearly talented, and that he’s learning fast.But she doesn’t.The only thing she says to defend me is clarifying that I made chocolate chip cookies for the bake sale?Really?
I did tell her she could pretend to hate me, but I don’t like hearing it.
“Who cares what she made?”Naomi asks.“The point is, we have to pretend to be fine with all this, but that doesn’t mean we really are.Any chance we get, we’re going to make her look as stupid as we possibly can.Shouldn’t be hard.At some point, Jack will see what the rest of us do—she’s too old, she’s too boring, and she’s tooAmerican, just like her boys.”
As I dump the pumpkins on the compost pile, I decide I’ve had just about enough.Sam or Natalie would march over and tell them off, but that’s not who I am.There’s just not that much fight in me.Instead, I slink back to my car, turn on the heater, and drive home.
