“Bad wine?” My father laughed. “You must have impeccable taste in wine. This is a 1970 Château d'Yquem. I’d hate to see what your good wine is. See, Mark,” my father said. “I knew you could find a nice girl if you tried. She’s so much better than—” My mother kicked him in the shin.
Who were these people?
“It’s just going to be us tonight, dears,” my mother said, leading us into the salon. “Now that your Uncle Walter is back at the Holbrook estate, I can finally breathe.”
“We let him stay here after the well, uh…” my father said, looking down nervously at my mother’s very sharp—both fashionably and physically—pointed shoes. “How about some appetizers. I made them myself,” my father offered.
“You cooked?”
“Not me personally,” my father clarified. “I put them on a plate though.”
My father made cocktails while I looked around the house. I hadn’t been home in almost a year.
“You redecorated?” I asked my mother just to fill the silence.
“Yes. Do you like it?”
“You have wonderful taste,” Brea gushed. “I wish you could come design my house.”
Nancy laughed. “I tried to convince Mark to let me come add some life to his condo, but he barely lets us in.”
Jack finished mixing the drinks and set one on an old steamer trunk. Brea sucked in a breath and started choking on one of the stuffed mushrooms. I patted her on the back while she pointed to the trunk.
“That’s vintage,” she rasped. “A vintage Louis Vuitton steamer trunk, and you’re putting a wet glass on it.”
“Honestly, Jack,” my mother said, removing the glass. She beamed at Brea. “It’s nice that you appreciate the finer things.”
“Where did you find her?” my dad asked as he handed us our drinks.
Shit. Should I tell them she was Liz’s wedding dress maker? Did that sound weird? I didn’t care, but Brea might. I couldn’t afford to lose her.
“Uh—”
“What, did you meet in a club?”
“She’s Liz’s maid of honor.”
“Oh!” my mother said and peered at Brea “You’re the dressmaker! How darling! I do love a wedding.”
“Everyone loves a wedding!” Brea gushed. “We also occasionally do vow renewals too.”
“You hear that, Jack?” my mother said to my father.
“I think we need to get all our kids married off before that happens,” my father replied.
Jack and Nancy looked at me and Brea expectantly.
“I only just met her. What am I going to do, propose to her?” I exclaimed.
Maybe, I thought.Honestly, that doesn’t sound so bad.
“We just want you to be happy,” my mother said to me. “Mark’s always been too serious and a workaholic,” she told Brea. “I’m glad you’re here to liven him up.”
“Full disclosure: I’m a bit of a workaholic myself,” Brea said.
“You’re perfect together then,” Jack said.
“You should have seen Mark after the fire. He was so distraught. We thought we were going to lose him!” Nancy said, hugging me to her chest.
