My heart stops.
Mayday was our code back in college for when my aunt or MiMi showed up at the dorm when there was a guy in the room. And there was always a guy in the room.
And why, oh why, did my aunt always have to show up, like today, wearing the collar and cross?
I’m no longer a college student and no longer give a crap what my aunt sees or doesn’t see. But the fact that she’s seen me out in the wild and is approaching me after all this time is really chapping my hide.
“Hello, Iris.”
It’s a warm spring day, so today she’s wearing her short-sleeved gray clerical shirt with the starched collar and that super-annoying removable plastic white tab in the front, because she can never let people forget who she is. After she retired from full-time work, she took a job as a hospital chaplain in Black Mountain. But around these parts, she’ll always be Pastor Patty. She served Songbird Ridge throughout my entire childhood. And by extension, so did I and all my siblings.
“Hi, Auntie,” I say, nodding my chin formally.
Whenever this woman comes around Songbird Ridge, she’s hugging on every living creature who knows her name. Right now, she’s clutching the strap of her purse.
“I hear you’ve been busy up at the house.”
I sense Skylar and Finn talking quieter now, giving me space. But also, Skylar is listening.
My aunt’s choice of words is telling. It’s the house, never my house. Sometimes when she’s feeling sentimental, she’ll call it “MiMi’s house,” referring to my late grandmother who bequeathed it to me.
She never believed it was ever truly meant to be my house.
“That’s right, you probably heard, I renovated the whole backyard, redid the carriage house. I even have my own separate dressmaking studio out back that used to be the side porch. Would you like to come by and see the changes?”
Auntie clucks her tongue. “That’s not what I meant by busy. Who is the man with the tattoos everyone in town is frothing about?”
I play dumb. “It’s an artist’s colony. You’re going to have to be more specific if you want gossip on someone with tattoos, Auntie.”
She takes a step forward. “I was hoping to enjoy the Dogwood Festival for just once—just once—in my life, without having to hear gossip about what Baby’s middle child is getting up to.”
“I’m technically Baby’s fourth out of five,” I reply, wincing internally at my late mother’s nickname.
“I practically raised you, child.”
“MiMi raised us.”
Her stony face tells me she’s itching for a fight, and not here to mend fences.
“Not going to dignify that with a response. I know you never appreciated what I sacrificed for your sake, and you never will.”
I reply stoically, “You trying to take another stab at contesting the will? Feeling like wasting people’s time while lining the pockets of some big-city lawyers, do you?”
“Bleeding you dry would just be spiteful at this point,” she says.
“Auntie, I think that’s the first thing we’ve agreed on in over a decade,” I reply.
“Then perhaps you and I can come to some common ground on the naked dance parties in the backyard in front of God and the devil.”
I am beyond confused by this entire conversation. Then I remember Maddie’s text from early this morning.
“Nobody was naked. It was the guest from the carriage house. Auntie, I’m renting it out for the festival.”
She takes a step forward. “Everyone is saying they saw a naked man in MiMi’s backyard, frolicking through her prized rosebushes. And now, everyone I meet is saying they saw that same man with his hands all over you all morning long right here in this…whatever this is.”
Skylar jumps at the opportunity to market herself. Handing Auntie a card, she says, “Raven’s Books, Music and Gifts. Coming soon to Songbird Ridge. Follow me on TikTok; I’m a delight.”
Auntie wrinkles her nose as she barely glances at the business card, then stuffs it into her purse.
