Too Sweet to Be Good

by K. M. Jackson

  It was no use. Her mother was way too easy on people, but she wasn’t going to bug her with speeches about getting tough and standing up now. Not today—well, not any day. Her mother’s kindness was what everyone loved about her.

  “Is that my Livy girl I hear in there?” Liv couldn’t help but smile, despite her father calling her by the long-standing childhood endearment “Livy.” No matter how often throughout middle and high school she tried to get them to call her what she considered the more adult-sounding, Liv. It never quite stuck. They did what they wanted. Olivia, Livy, Girl Child Number One, it was a free-for-all. Guess they figured they made her, they’d name her.

  “Yes, it is, Daddy.” Sure, she may technically be too old to be calling her father Daddy, but hey, if he was still in with Livy, then so what? She’d revel in it and stay his little girl.

  She listened as her father came down the hall toward the kitchen, imagining him in his usual well-worn pants and soft, rubber-bottomed boots as he made his way to her. When he appeared in the kitchen, he was as she envisioned, only slightly older and a little more weathered than the little girl’s image she’d kept in her head. Tall, wide-shouldered, and still handsome for his age, with a big craggy smile, Mitch Gale greeted them by waving the plastic grocery bag in his hand. He then walked fully into the kitchen and placed it on the last available spot on the table, giving her mother a knowing look. “Don’t think I don’t know what you did there, Anne, sending me on that fool’s errand. If you wanted me out of the way, you should have just said so. Looking around here, it sure doesn’t seem like you needed anything.”

  Not put out in the least by his words, her mother gave him a light admonishment. “Oh please, Mitch, you know you were driving me crazy. Honestly, you should have stayed out for another good half an hour longer, at least.” She waved a hand. “But no matter, why don’t you go on in the living room and help your son set up the buffet table and then you can arrange the bar area. After that, go on in the bedroom and you’ll see I’ve laid out some clothes for you.”

  Liv’s father chuckled as he turned toward her. “See, just like I said—busywork.” He took Liv into a warm hug, then pulling back he gave her a soft smile and looked her deep in her eyes, as he always did. Only this time Liv had to fight to keep her gaze steady and bright so as not to give a hint of any of the turmoil that she’d been through earlier in the day.

  For all her putting on, her father was quick to see through her façade, and his smile quickly faded, casting down into a frown as he peered at her more intently. “You all right there, Livy?” he asked.

  Liv smiled brighter, but in a rookie move she shifted her gaze away from her dad a bit too quickly, gesturing to show him the table as she shrugged. “I’m fine, Dad. You know there’s no need to worry about me, so stop trying to deflect from you not wanting to have this party tonight.” She waved a hand across the table, indicating her pies. “It’s gonna be quite the gathering. And look, I made your favorite.”

  At the indication of Liv’s handiwork, thankfully her father looked over at the table and grinned. “These look delicious, sweetheart. Once again, you’ve outdone yourself.” He turned toward Liv’s mom. “See what she’s made here, Anne? Not only is our daughter smart as a whip, but she’s a whiz in the kitchen. I tell you, this one here will be quite a catch for some man.”

  Both Liv and her mother groaned at the same time, and her father looked back and forth between them slightly bewildered, as if he didn’t know what he said. “What?” he asked.

  “Daddy, you know that’s not very PC,” Liv said. “My skills in the kitchen shouldn’t have anything to do with my ability to catch a man.”

  Her father gave her a put-upon look. “I swear, you millennials are so sensitive. Did I not talk about how smart you were first? I’m just pointing out that you have other qualities besides your brains. It wasn’t like I was attaching a gender to it. Though your mother’s pretty good at cooking, and I’ve been known to throw down in the kitchen myself.”

  Liv’s mom wrinkled her nose.

  “Hold it now,” her dad said. “Don’t you go sleeping on my skills or trying to call me some sort of chauvinist. I’m trying to do right here. I’m just saying that I’d hope that whoever you settle down with appreciates both your brains and your other talents and, more than that, I hope he has more than one or two to bring to the table himself. Speaking of your attributes and appreciating them”—Liv noticed her father’s expression turned decidedly less jovial—“I suppose we will be graced with the presence of that Damien of yours tonight? He doesn’t strike me as one to turn down a free meal.”

  “His name is Damon, Dad, not Damien, and you know it,” Liv said. She also knew her father couldn’t care less what Damon’s name was. Never could from the first moment he’d met him. Score one for dear old perceptive dad. Why Liv hadn’t taken her father’s overzealous nature to heart and been a bit more perceptive herself, she didn’t know. She did know that she now regretted ignoring his dislike for her ex-boyfriend. But Liv definitely wasn’t in the mood to get into it tonight, and she scrambled to get away from any Damon talk without too much explanation. “Well, I don’t know.” She fought to keep lightness in her tone. “Damon says he’ll try to make it, and he wishes you all the best. But he is working on a big client acquisition right now, so he may not be able to get here in time for the party.”

  Her father shrugged, as if he was saying “Good riddance.” Just as her brother had done before him, he grabbed a sweet potato biscuit before heading out toward the living room. “Oh well, it’ll be his loss, not ours,” he said before taking a big bite.

  “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” her mother said. “I’ve got plenty of plasticware, so you can always bring him a take-home plate.”

  This pulled her father up short just as he was hitting the hallway. “Take home to where? Doesn’t he have his own place? And if he really wanted something to eat, he should’ve shown up himself.” Liv’s father gave her a quick glance and then turned away once again, mumbling. “Shoot, you’re not taking any of my good plasticware out of this house for some smooth-talking no-show. At the most, he gets a Dixie plate.”

  Liv couldn’t help chuckling and shook her head at her father’s reaction as she went to work helping her mother prepare everything for the buffet table. But just as she was pulling one of the good serving platters down, her mother stopped her short. “So Damon is doing pretty good at work, you say?”

  Seriously? Were they really going to stay on the subject? There was a party to get ready for. No need to fill the dead air with talk about her suddenly nonexistent love life. But of course, she couldn’t tell her mother that, so instead Liv just continued pulling the platter down and made as if slicing the roast beef were the most interesting task she’d ever encountered. “I didn’t say,” she mumbled, “but yes, he is.” She purposely tried to keep her voice as nonchalant as she could. Stay light and move on.

  “That’s wonderful, sweetheart,” her mother said. “Though you’d think for an important family function such as this one he would be here. I mean, it’s not like you two have been seeing each other for a short time—what is it going on a year now?”

  Liv squashed back a huff. So we’re not just letting this talk lie. All righty, then. “Not quite a year, Mom, only nine months. And as I said, he’s pretty busy.”

  “If you say so.”

  Ugh. If you say so? Liv mimicked the words in her head. Liv knew her mother just as well as her mother knew her, and that “if you say so” meant so much more than a light agreement. It meant that the subject was definitely not closed and would surely be continued at a later date. Thank you, Damon, for taking what was merely a devastating day and tilting it into the horrific column.

  Chapter 2

  Liv couldn’t help but smile; for the moment, all thoughts of the lack of a job and a surprise dumpation by a boyfriend were erased from her mind as the last guests left the retirement party, and she glimpsed her fath
er taking her mother into a sweet embrace and whispering in her ear over by the kitchen pass-through. Seeing them both so happy was what this was all about. Despite her father saying he didn’t want the attention, he’d practically preened as many of his old coworkers and friends came by to wish him the best in his new life of leisure.

  Not that leisure was exactly how her parents had mapped out spending their retirement years. Her mother had come up with a pretty elaborate travel plan for the next three months. They were taking a long-dreamed-of cruise to Europe. Well, the European trip was more her mother’s dream as opposed to her father’s. But he’d do anything to make her mother happy, and Liv knew her mother’s travel dreams had been derailed by the reality of children, tight finances, life, and all that came with being an adult and trying to just make it day to day. But that was done now, and after they returned to the States, the plan was for the two of them to do something that was more in line with her father’s wishes. They were going to rent an RV and drive across the country, hitting all the best fishing holes and barbecue spots along the way.

  To Liv, as far as dreams went, it might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but it was what they wanted and the least of what they deserved after spending so many years essentially living for their three children.

  Liv found herself suddenly blinking back tears thinking of family, children, and dreams deferred, which only made her angry at herself for even going there on such a good night, when she felt her shoulder nudged forcefully.

  “What’s with you, Livy? Don’t go and tell me the ice queen is thawing,” her sister said at her side. She waved her wineglass toward their parents. “Ugh, those two are sickeningly sweet at times. Don’t let their magical picture of forever get you to thinking that it’s something for mere mortals. You keep grounded in the real world. That type of stuff ends with their generation.”

  Liv let out a slow breath through her nose. Leave it to Drea to pretty much be the wet blanket nobody ever needed. She gave her sister a side-eye glance. “There’s nothing wrong with me. And everything about Mom and Dad is pretty much perfect. They should be admired.”

  Drea shrugged. “Well, if you call struggling for over thirty years perfect, then sure, they’ve got it all going on.”

  “You know for a fact that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about their relationship. How they get along together. That’s what’s perfect. Or as close to perfect in this day and age as you can get. Why must you be so jaded?”

  Drea gave Liv a stare that was just long enough to be intrusive. “And I suppose you being Little Miss Perfect, that’s exactly what you have going on with Damon?”

  Liv stared back at her sister, the corners of her own eyes tightening when she caught the fight in Drea’s. She was clearly egging her on. “Whatever,” Liv said, raising her shoulders and then lowering them again in a dismissive gesture. She wouldn’t give Drea the time or energy for the confrontation she was clearly itching for. Besides, she wasn’t going to let her sister bait her into spilling the beans on the demise of her and Damon’s relationship. It wasn’t as if she could expect any sort of sympathy from her sister on the subject; they didn’t have a relationship like that.

  “Whatever do you mean by whatever?” Drea asked, immediately latching on to the dangling thread. “And where is Mr. Right tonight anyway? Aren’t you two always joined at the hip? I expected him to be here all suited down and overdressed. Shouldn’t he be about ready to make some sort of grand proposal by now anyway?” Drea’s words came out harsh and slightly warbled.

  Liv wasn’t playing this game. Not now. Not tonight. Liv started to walk toward the kitchen, but her sister grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up short. “Well?”

  Liv jerked her arm out of Drea’s grasp, annoyance and a hint of nervousness licking at the back of her neck. “Why are you so concerned about my relationship? What’s going on? Don’t tell me, Mr. Married Boss once again putting on the moves, or is it that his wife got wind? Either way, Drea, you can’t deflect by taking your problems out on me, and you sure enough can’t flirt your way cutely around the issue forever. That job is never going to lead to you becoming a star no matter what sort of so-called connections that boss of yours says he has.”

  With that, Drea’s pretty brown eyes quickly lit up with a spark of fire. “Flirting? I’m not flirting with anything!” She shook her head. “Look at you. Once again Ms. Judgy Gale coming down with her verdicts and no facts to be had. I knew you couldn’t last the night.”

  Liv moved in closer toward her sister, getting inches from her face, making her voice a hiss of a whisper. “And I knew you couldn’t last the night without trying to bait me and making yourself the center of attention. What is it? Is your life not complete unless you’re all up in mine? This is supposed to be Dad’s night. This little brat act won’t play cute for much longer.”

  Drea looked as if she was about ready to stomp her foot. “Cute! Look at you! As if you’d know cute if it bit you on your—”

  Liv opened her mouth to reply before Drea got out her final word, but was stopped by the sound of her mother’s voice. “Seriously, you two.” Her mother spoke slow and steady, but the underlying edge of anger was all too real. It immediately silenced both her and her sister and took them right back to preteens and weeklong groundings. “Tonight is your father’s night, and I won’t have you two arguing and ruining it for him.”

  Her father came up behind her mother and wrapped his arms around her waist. His smile said he was feeling no pains on this night and his daughters arguing would not be getting to him in the least. Still, when he looked at Liv and Drea, Liv didn’t miss the hint of disappointment. “Oh, Anne, don’t pay these girls no never mind. As if I’d let their usual going at each other ruin this night.” He took Liv’s mother’s hand and gave her a twirl. “Besides, I get to stay up as late as I want and dance with my sweetheart. No work for me tomorrow, or ever if I want. This guy is chilling out, living off a fixed income pension now.”

  Liv couldn’t help but laugh at that and let her annoying sister’s words roll off her back. No, her parents wouldn’t be living off their retirement money in the lap of luxury, and even with tight budgeting, things would probably be a bit tough. But both her mother and father seemed happy, and in good enough health to enjoy these latter years together. So she could totally understand her father’s exuberance tonight, and she felt bad about letting a squabble with Drea potentially ruin it.

  It was then that the familiar sound of the house’s landline rang out. Although usually to Liv the sound was comforting, since she only ever heard it at her parents’ house, being that she and most of her friends who had their own places now relied solely on their cell phones, the fact that it came at such a late hour startled all of them.

  “Who could that be calling at this hour?” her mother said as she went toward the kitchen to pick up the phone.

  “It’s probably Mrs. Jenkins calling to complain about the noise from the party,” her father said.

  Her mother shrugged. “Well, she’s got no reason to complain. She should’ve come up and that way she wouldn’t have had a problem with any noise. It wasn’t like she wasn’t invited.”

  Her father waved a frustrated hand. “Blah, as if that crab apple would have come out of her cave to give a kind word. Please. You know she’s one of those Sunday-only kind of Christians. By Monday her religion is long forgotten till the next Saturday after midnight.” It must have been the Christian talk that brought his gaze back over to Liv and Drea, and he gave his head another shake before walking back toward the sideboard. “Nope, I’m not even going to talk about Crab Apple Jenkins tonight. Tonight is my night.” Their dad picked up the CD player remote and turned the volume up a bit before turning back to Liv and her sister and taking both of their hands, this time swinging them, doing his version of a little shimmy dance to a ’90s groove track.

  “Get it now, Daddy,” Drea said, snapping her fingers and dancing around him. “Mom had b
etter watch out. You still got plenty of moves left in you.”

  But Liv let her own hand slip away from her father’s as she moved closer to her mother when she caught the hint of urgency in her voice.

  “What is that, Joyce? Oh my Lord!” her mother said, bringing her hand to her chest and causing Liv’s own heart to skip a beat.

  What was Aunt Joyce doing calling with news that would cause her mother to figuratively clutch her pearls? Liv gave her mom a concerned look and mouthed the words, “Is everything okay?”

  Her mother just shook her head, and Liv couldn’t tell if that meant things were fine or if she was giving Liv the brush-off. Either way she knew she had to wait to get the news. After listening in on a few nonsensical sentences that ended with, “Are you sure?” “. . . surgery,” and “What about Katherine?” Liv could only surmise that somebody was having surgery and it had something to do with her aunt Katherine. After a few short nods, her mother hung up the phone with a promise to call her sister back.

  By then Liv’s dad, having realized something was wrong, had turned down the music and was waiting for news of what happened with concern in his eyes. So was Drea, a fresh glass of wine in hand, and this time Elijah was by her side, obviously ready for round three with the food, Liv guessed, since it seemed nothing else would coax him back out of his ham-and-biscuit stupor at this hour.

  “Well, what is it?” Liv’s father asked. “What was Joyce calling for at this time of night?”

  Her mother let out a sigh, then looked up at her father with worried eyes. “Well, unfortunately, Joyce, being Joyce, a little too headstrong, decided that she could clean her own gutters and took a tumble off a ladder and broke her hip.”

  “Oh boy. That sounds just like Joyce,” her father said with a knowing tone.