“Winnie’s the only girl I know who’d reject a man who looks like this.” Kathy sighs.
Fidget sighs.
I’m annoyed.
“I didn’t reject—it’s not a rejection. He didn’t actually ask me out.”
“That’s not what Gran says.”
“It was a joke. A trap.”
“Why are you trying to make me find a rich guy when you already have a man who wants you?” Kathy rolls her eyes. “You two are good together. Customers to the Brew & Browse are up eighty percent.” My sister shows me ourdata tracker.
“It’s because of all those hot shirtless pictures on the internet of him.” Carolina giggles.
“You should print T-shirts with that photo.” Kathy blows up the photo of Fitz shirtless, looking like a Greek god come to bless corporate America. Meanwhile, I look like I just crawled hungover out of a gutter.
“It looks like I’m about to manhandle him. Why did they have to put that photo on the gossip sites?”
Carolina zooms into Fitz’s chest. “I mean, that’s just gratuitous.”
“He’s boobing boobily into the room.”
“Stop looking at those photos. We need to work on finding you a boyfriend,” I tell my sister.
Kathy ignores me. “Did you touch his chest?”
“I did.” Granny swaggers into the kitchen. “I think we really came to an understanding there.”
“You touched him, Gran?”
“Nipple or…”
“You girls, you’re too timid. You can’t sit there and try to reason with a man. You have to take off your shirt. Men fold every time.”
“Winifred, how could you let your grandmother out in public without her shirt on? Oh god. I can never go back to Minnesota.” My mother groans, heading past us to the built-in bar in the living room. “The neighbors—what must the neighbors think?”
“This isn’t that type of neighborhood, Mom. I don’t want to see my neighbors.”
“Mrs. Anderson back on the lake has already called the police on several occasions because of your grandmother sunbathing topless.”
“We get three weeks of warm, sunny weather in Minnesota. I have to take what I can get when I can get it. This is America,” Gran complains. “A woman should be able to take her shirt off in her own yard.”
“Knox’s yard,” Kathy corrects, mouth a thin line.
Dad is fanning Mom, who lies on the couch. He’s feeding her sips of wine.
“Mom, don’t you want something to eat? I can order pizza.” I pick up the empty bottle.
“Gosh, Winnie, how can you eat at a time like this?”
“You really need to keep your strength up, Mom.”
“Yeah, Mrs. Larkspur,” Carolina pipes up. “Especially since we’re about to sign up Kathy for an escort service.”
Kathy helpfully fetches another bottle of wine.
“Where did I go wrong as a mother?” April wails.
