“Acaseofwine? That’s a bit much for the three of us, isn’t it?”
Shefrowns at me as if I’ve somehow disappointed her, but it quicklyturns to a look of contrition. It’s not an expression I’maccustomed to seeing from her. “Here I am talking about your fatherneglecting to tell me about the delivery whenI’veneglected to tellyouabout our change ofplans for Thanksgiving.”
My stomach drops.I have a feeling I’m going to need another glass of prosecco.“Change of plans?”
“Yes,we’re going to be hosting dinner for your dad’s coworkers who don’thave family or friends to spend the holiday with. The Greensusually host it, but Mr. Green suddenly took ill and is in thehospital, so I offered to take over hosting duties.”
“Howawful,” I say faintly. I’m referring to Mr. Green’s poor health, ofcourse, but I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t awful for otherreasons too. Thanksgiving is typically the one holiday when it’sjust the three of us. It’s as close to the Before Times as we everget. Mom doesn’t cook the meal like she used to when I waslittle—that’s Chef Fleur’s job—but it’s rare to get both of myparents to myself these days, so I look forward to our quietThanksgiving dinner every year.
“Yes,dreadful,” Mom says. “I know it’s last minute and the girls likelyhave plans already, but feel free to invite them. And if you’d liketo bring a date, he’d be most welcome too. You know what I alwayssay, the more the merrier.”
This is hernot-so-subtle way of fishing for information on my love life. Iside-step the topic by thanking her and telling her I’ll pass alongthe invitation to my friends. I might have to see if Hollie’sfriend Fergus is available earlier than anticipated.
“Now,where were we?” Mom sets her empty wine glass down and joins menear the bed. As soon as she spots the red dress, I know poorKatrina is going to get an earful.
“It’sfine, Mom.” I zip the bag back up and add it to the reject pile. Idon’t need to see the whole thing to know it’s not worth the fight.“This is only the second dress. I’m sure there’s something in herethat’s suitable.”
She mutterssomething under her breath as she scoops up my glass and goes torefill it. Before I can unzip the next bag, she whirls around withan excited exclamation that startles me.
“Ialmost forgot to tell you,” she says, her eyes alight withpleasure. “You’ll never guess who sent an RSVP to yourparty.”
Sincethe only friends of mine who ever get invited to‘my’ party areStella, Hollie, and Louisa, I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Themayor? The managing partner at Dad’s law firm? The prime ministerhimself?”
Mom’s eyes narrow.“Have I ever told you how unbecoming sarcasm is for a younglady?”
“Onlyseveral times a week for the last thirty or so years.”
“Andyet…” She looks at me pointedly and I laugh, waving a hand for herto continue. She draws in a deep breath, straightening her spine,and appearingwaytoo pleased with herself when she says, “Wesley.”
I nearly drop thewine glass she just handed me. “W-Wesley? WesleyMcGrath?”
“Ofcourse, Wesley McGrath. Do you know any other Wesleys?”
“That’simpossible, though. Stella would have told me if he was coming totown. He’s not going to come all the way from Ottawa just for mybirthday party.”
Mom lets out anon-committal sound as she shrugs one shoulder. “He told me he wascoming.”
“Hetoldyou?Youtalkedtohim?”
“Yes, Ispoke with him on the phone yesterday. I was quite surprised when Ireceived the notification saying he planned to attend, so I calledhim to make sure he hadn’t checked the wrong box by mistake. He wasin a rush, so we only spoke for a minute, but he told me he’lldefinitely be here.”
A lifetime ofimages flash through my mind like a movie on fast-forward. Wesleyis Stella’s older brother. Of all the things I missed when we movedhere, living next door to the McGrath family was at the top of thelist. Having known Stella and Wesley my entire life, our familieshad a strange and wonderful blended quality; Suzanne and WarrenMcGrath were like a second set of parents to me, and Stella andWesley were like the siblings I never had. The seven of us tookvacations and spent holidays together, and it was rare to see mearound the neighborhood without at least one McGrath sibling by myside.
My mindreturns to the one red dress I ever owned: a costume dress likeButtercup’s fromThe PrincessBride. When Stella and I were eight, shebecame enamored with figure skating and begged her parents to lether take skating lessons. They supported her, as they did witheverything, and soon she was spending hours every week at the rinkwhere her lessons were. That left Wesley and me to our owndevices.
WediscoveredThe Princess Bridewhen I was nine and Wesley was ten, and webecameobsessedwith it. We would play Buttercup and the Dread Pirate Roberts,except I was no damsel in distress, I was a sword-wielding princesswho could save herself, thank you very much. The forest behind ourhouses turned into the Fire Swamp, where we had adventures and ranaway from imaginary foes. We choreographed sword fights with long,sturdy sticks, and I’d sometimes take up the role of Inigo Montoyainstead of Buttercup.
One Halloween,Mrs. McGrath made me a red dress similar to Buttercup’s, and Wesleyplanned to dress up as the Dread Pirate Roberts. Unfortunately, thefamily ended up going out of town over Halloween for one ofStella’s skating competitions. I couldn’t bring myself to wear thecostume without Wesley, so I ended up going as Posh Spice to Hollieand Louisa’s Ginger and Baby. Even though it wasn’t his fault,Wesley felt so bad about missing Halloween, he bought us a pair ofmatching plastic swords with his paper route money so we wouldn’thave to suffer through splinters from our makeshift swordsanymore.
“EvelynHathaway, are you listening to me?”
My mother’s voiceis like a wave of cold water, washing away the vivid memoriesplaying in my mind’s eye. I take several small sips of prosecco tobuy myself another moment before I speak.
“Aren’tyou happy Wesley is coming?” Mom asks. “Should I not have invitedhim?”
“No!” Isay, startling us both with the force of the word. “No, I’m gladyou invited him. I’m just surprised, that’s all.Goodsurprised. I’vehardly seen him over the last few years. It’ll be amazing to haveeveryone back together again.”
“I wasthinking of finding an old picture of the five of you and havingyou recreate it,” Mom says. “I keep seeing people doing that onlineand the results are often hilarious.”
