"Ma, we’re here!" Bridget yells as we pile in the front door.
Nora shushes her, Olive snorts, and my brother—ever the stoic one—rolls his eyes. We had a few drinks at Union before coming over for the O’Reilly version of a going-away party. I’m facing a set of numb ass-cheeks and a cross-country drive at a top-speed of fifty-five miles per hour, but at least I’ll have a full belly.
"We’re out here!" Mabel calls to us from the back patio.
Shuffling down the hall, I’m suddenly hyper-aware of my surroundings. Things that I haven’t noticed in years suddenly seem to stand out, like the small dent in the wall right next to the backdoor from the time Sam and I tried to recreate a scene fromJackass, or the way the house always vaguely smells like warm cookies even when Mom isn’t baking.
Stepping onto the patio, we pile into the wicker seating, and Mom curses under her breath.
"Who let those three get drunk?" she asks Sam and me with a pointed stare. "I had a whole toast planned, but now the peanut gallery is going to have to use water instead of champagne."
Sam rolls his eyes, pointing a finger at me where he thinks I can’t see it.
"Don’t look at me." I hold my hands up. "This is Ariella’s fault. She showed up and made a big deal of it being the group’s last hurrah."
"That girl—"
"Is my best friend in the entire world!" Olive finishes the statement my mom was making.
"I was going to say… that girl is something else." Mabel pats my sister-in-law’s arm. "Nothing negative, Ollie. But she needs to stop toying with Howard’s heart."
"I know!" Olive points at my mom, shouting her agreement. I’m finding she only has one volume when the alcohol hits her veins, and it’s not quiet. "She’s going to lose him, eventually."
"Mabel, hunny, is it time to eat?" my dad asks, glancing at the mess his children have become. The three girls are half falling out of their chairs, Sam is struggling to maintain a straight face, and I’m just thankful that I’m having some fun on my last night in town.
Mom stands, heading inside, and the rest of us follow. We had a few appetizers, but not enough to fill our bellies—mine personally is ready to chow like a beast that’s been awakened after hibernation.
Settling around the table, Mom brings in dish after dish of my personal favorites. There’s Irish stew, soda bread, cabbage with bacon, colcannon mash, a variety of cheeses on a board, and bread pudding. It smells delicious, and my mouth waters as soon as the feast is spread on the table. We dig in like a pack of wild hyenas, piling our plates so full that they almost need sideboards.
"So, Max. What’s the plan?" Dad asks from his spot at the end of the table.
"Fo wha?" I reply, a forkful of potatoes in my mouth.
"Are you planning to stop along the way?" Dad narrows his eyes at my lack of manners. "Should I look up a hotel and make a reservation?"
Taking a sip of the filled water glass in front of my plate, I shake my head. "No, to the reservation. The team travel coordinator mapped out my trip and scheduled stops for me.I should make it to Chicago tomorrow, then it’s across the Dakotas the next day."
He nods, satisfied with my answer.
"Do they have a place set up for you to stay when you get there?" Mom chimes in, her eyes noticeably misty.
"Ma…" I plaster the biggest smile I can muster on my face. "I’m going to be fine. They put me up at a swanky hotel for the first two weeks. I’ll have time to find a place before they give me the boot. I’m not a grifter, right, Ollie?"
My sister-in-law nods enthusiastically as I throw her words from earlier back at her. And Sam smiles, tipping his chin in my direction.
"You’re right. I know you’re going to be fine." Mom stands from the table, stepping toward the kitchen. "I’m grabbing the champagne. Are you girls sober eno—"
She trails off when a knock sounds at the door and switches directions, moving to open it. The room falls so quiet you could hear a pin drop. We aren’t expecting anyone, but maybe Howie or Xavier stopped by for one last goodbye?
But then, I hear six words I never expected.
"Sadie? What are you doing here?"
thirty-three
Sadie
The Key to Everything
