“Sometimes I wonder if all families are effed up.” Gabe pulled up next to Peter’s cart. “Let’s kick some ass.”
“There you are!” Tie charged toward us with Demi on her hip. “Your daughter misses you.”
Peter took Demi, nuzzling her head with his chin.
I never thought my uptight and selfish brother would take to parenting, but all evidence pointed to my being wrong. Maybe Demi could help select her father’s golf outfits in a year or two so he wouldn’t be a dead ringer for the Easter Bunny. She couldn’t do much worse.
“Who won?” Tie asked.
“We’re family. Keeping score would be rude.” Gabe tossed an arm over Peter’s shoulders.
Tie clapped her hands and said to Peter, “You lost.”
“They cheated,” he said, baring his white teeth.
“Whatever, Mr. Mulligan.” I met Sarah’s eye off to the side of the deck. “It’s time for a congratulatory kiss.” I made a beeline toward Sarah and Helen, each with a twin in their arms.
“Golfing definitely agrees with you.” Helen smiled.
“Not sure about that but beating Peter does.”
“You won?” Sarah crinkled her brow.
“Third. Peter came in last.” I raised my hand for a high five, and Freddie slapped his fist into it. “Thanks, little man.”
Sarah laughed, shaking her head. “I hope you and your sister get along better.” She tickled Freddie’s side, much to his delight, and he made a noise that sounded like the letter O.
“What can I get you two to drink?” I offered, placing my hands together in my best servant manner.
“Actually, take this one. I think your father needs assistance at the grill.” Helen handed off Ollie. Taking Ollie’s hand in hers, she said, “Can you say, hello, Mama?”
Ollie stared indignantly.
“She takes after me.” Sarah laughed.
Helen rushed to Dad’s rescue.
“Say Mama is beautiful, Ollie. Beau-ti-ful.”
“Trying to get into my good graces?” Sarah narrowed her eyes.
“Wasn’t aware I was on the outs with you.” Ollie grabbed my ponytail, giving it a good yank. “Did you teach her that?”
Sarah redirected Ollie’s hand by scooping a stuffed giraffe from the goodies bag. She handed Fred the elephant. “Did you have fun golfing?” She shook her head. “Really, I never thought I’d ask you that.”
I laughed. “Think I missed my true calling.”
“Not sure three out of four is LPGA worthy.”
“Nope, but beating Peter—golden.” I blew on my fingertips.
“Ah, now I see.” She tsked. “At least you two are spending some time together. That’s a step in the right direction.”
I glanced over at Peter, who was chatting with Gabe and my father at the grill. Dad now held Demi, but she had her tiny fist wrapped around one of Peter’s fingers. “Maybe fatherhood has tamed him some.”
“Possibly. Or maybe he’s realized life is so much harder swimming upstream all alone.” Sarah held Freddie tighter.
“I feel like you’re trying to impart some type of wisdom.” I planted a peck on her cheek. “Are you trying to teach me or yourself?”
Sarah swatted my side. “Play nice!”
“But I like winning.”
She held Fred in front of her at eye level. “I hope you don’t inherit the Petrie competitive streak. No, not my Freddie-Weddie.”
He giggled, swinging his arms and legs as if on a carnival ride, saying, “Weee...”
Ollie let loose a wail.
“I think she has. It’s time for their dinner. Help me get them inside.” Sarah led the way in her momma-general fashion.
There were two high chairs at the kitchen table. After securing Ollie, I grabbed the already prepared chickpea patties, steamed broccoli, and carrots and placed them in the microwave. I arranged cheese cubes in one of the ears of the elephant-shaped travel plates. When the microwave dinged, I put the veggies in the other ear and the patties in the center of the face.
Setting the plates down in front of the twinks, I said, “I’m not sure about these plates. They make me feel guilty. Like we’re serving them elephant.”
Ollie reached for a patty, clumsily feeding herself.
“She doesn’t seem to mind.” Sarah pushed one forward on Fred’s plate. “Freddie, however, takes after you, snowflake.” She joggled my arm.
“Just for that, I’m heading outside to gloat about my golf skills.” I kissed both twins on top of their heads and gave Sarah a good luck smile.
Peter, Gabe, Allen, and my father congregated around the grill; however, the only one paying any attention to the steaks was Gabe.
After several minutes, the conversation rounded back to golf and rubbing Peter’s face in coming in last.
“She’s an amateur. I have to let her win so she won’t get discouraged.” Peter flashed a condescending smile at me.
“Is that your excuse? Do you lose to clients as a way of buttering them up?” I eyed Gabe and Allen.
Gabe laughed. “Can’t blame him. Oscar and Reggie love to play with Peter.”
“Fishing for stock tips?” Tie, in a sundress that didn’t suit the clouds overhead, sidled up next to me, a wineglass at her lips.
“That, my dear, is illegal.” Peter didn’t look entirely comfortable around his wife.
“When is Oscar Mendez going public?” she pressed.
“Are there rumors about an IPO?” my father asked, his expression more than curious.
“Not you too, Charles. Learning about an Initial Public Offering ahead of time can land you in jail.” Tie swigged her wine.
Gabe laughed. “Sounds like someone has been boning up on finance lingo.”
Peter wore a priggish grin. “She loves the movie The Wolf of Wall Street.” He whispered behind his hand, “She has a crush on Leo.”
Tie’s smile reminded me of a high school girl trying to school a group of boys who didn’t take her seriously. But she said, “Who doesn’t have a crush on Leo? Even Lizzie probably does.”
“Leo who?” I asked.
Everyone laughed.
“I wish your brother developed a sense of humor like you.” Tie linked arms with me. “Maybe you can teach Demi.”
“She’s not funny,” Peter scoffed. “Go on, Lizzie, tell us who Leo is?”
“DiCaprio?” Helen approached the group. “He was fantastic in that finance movie. Has he been in a movie since?”
“Saved once again,” Peter sneered.
“Please. Everyone knows him. Sarah has made me watch Inception God knows how many times trying to figure out the end.”
Sarah, holding a twin on each hip, approached the group. “I’ve made you? You’re the one who jots down clues. You probably belong to a nerdy club who discusses theories. Oh, wait, you’re too busy cochairing the History Club.”
I took Freddie from her.
“History Club,” Peter chortled.
“Yuck it up now, Peter. You won’t be laughing when I become dean.” I jiggled one of Freddie’s socked feet.
“Is that your goal?” Dad puffed out his chest.
“One of them.”
“What else?” he asked.
“New York Times best-selling author.”
Dad nodded encouragingly.
Peter rolled his eyes. “Might want to turn to romance if you want that to happen.”
“There’s a list for fiction and nonfiction,” Tie came to my defense. However, I suspected she did so simply to needle Peter.
“What’s at the top of the nonfiction list?”
“Hillbilly Elegy.” She stuck her tongue out at Peter.
“Gabe, are the steaks done? I’m famished.” Helen inserted herself between Peter and Tie, a trick she utilized on a regular basis.
“I’ll set the sides out.” Dad corralled Allen with his arm. “Help out your old man.”
We moved inside to the dining room. The early autumn night was mild, but with th
e darkness descending, the temperature would drastically drop. Sarah and I placed the twins in their respective seats on our side of the table. For the moment, Ollie was content, and Fred stared at the crackling fire with his usual stoicism.
Everyone took their places at the table. Allen sat next to me, while Gabe diplomatically inserted himself between Peter and Tie. Sarah wasn’t quick enough and had to sit directly across from Tie. My wife turned to me, thinning her eyes without anyone else witnessing the act. I feigned it was an accident. One of Tie’s tactics was to loop the person within eye contact into her assaults on Peter.
Sarah mouthed, “Later.”
“Sarah, how’s your mom?” Dad peeled back a crispy husk from his corn.
“Fine,” Sarah said. “Can you please pass me the cornbread?” She bumped my elbow.
“I’m having lunch with her and Troy tomorrow,” Helen said, her voice a bit too cheery.
“Really?” Sarah’s leg bumped into mine. Was she attempting to garner my attention, or was it accidental? “Where?”
“Three Amigos. Care to join?” The way Helen said it made it clear she knew about Sarah’s issue with Troy. Had Gabe or Rose filled her in? Both?
“Can’t. The twinkies have a playdate with the daughter of one of Fort Collins’ famous residents.”
“Who?” I asked, stupefied.
“The daughter is Mia. Her moms are Claire Nicholls and JJ Cavendish.”
“Ah,” I nodded. “Claire is the publisher of the local paper.”
Sarah’s smile conveyed You can’t be serious. “True, but her wife, JJ, is the famous one.”
“I love her show Confessions with JJ. One of my goals is to appear on it.” Tie chomped into her corn.
“You have to be famous, dear.” Peter brandished his fork in the air as if punctuating a sentence that didn’t require anything all that forceful.
“If Lizzie can be a best-selling author, I can be famous.” Tie flourished the corncob at Peter.
Peter leaned forward to glare at his wife. “How do you plan on doing that? Riding my coattails?”
“Even Ruth Madoff, Bernie’s wife, became famous.”
Peter bristled. “Are you calling me a crook?”
“Please. You aren’t even in the same league as Bernie. His Ponzi scheme was worth billions. With a B.” Tie licked her lips.
“JJ Cavendish. Is she the one who wrote that memoir about her drug use?” Helen tipped more wine into her glass just as easily as she redirected the conversation.
Sarah nodded. “Yep. Their daughter is in the twinks’ music class.”
“Since when do the kids have music class?” I asked.
“Some mother you are,” Peter said before placing a piece of bloody steak into his mouth.
“It’s new, and they’ve only been there once. I’m almost certain I mentioned it to you.” Sarah looked upward as if consulting a mental diary.
I was 94.35 percent sure she hadn’t, but not wanting to call my wife a liar in front of my family, I fibbed, “It’s ringing a bell.”
“Anyway, Bailey thought it’d be a good idea, and one of her bandmates teaches the class. It’s cute, seeing all the little ones wiggling their butts. Fred loves banging on a drum.”
I smiled at the thought before pinpointing the troublesome aspect. “Bailey’s in a band?”
“Yep. The Rockies Chicks. I think it’s a play on The Dixie Chicks.” Sarah peered over her shoulder to ensure the twins were okay. “They haven’t booked any gigs yet.”
“Bailey and her band or the twins?” Allen laughed at his own joke.
Gabe socked Allen’s side. “Please, you know everything there is to know about Bailey.” He sang, “Allen and Bailey sitting in a tree—”
Helen cleared her throat.
“Dottie’s going to kill me.” I groaned, remembering Bailey’s grandmother’s parting words when she moved Bailey to Fort Collins. Anything happens to her and I’ll skin you alive.
“Extracurricular activities are healthy, like the History Club, which supposedly will land you in the dean’s office.” Sarah’s not-so-innocent smile should have angered me. Instead, it turned me on.
“Mock all you want, dear.” I whispered the last word in a tone that implied I couldn’t wait to get her home.
“I plan on it.”
To keep everyone from knowing the true meaning of her words, my eyes darted toward the ceiling. “Heaven help me.”
“You’re an atheist,” Sarah chimed in, giving me the smile I outwardly pretended to hate, but it revved my engines even more.
“This family is driving me to religion. I need all the help I can get.”
Helen heartily laughed. “Tell me about it.”
“I hear Meg Shaw is giving a lecture at CU about the Russian Revolution. Didn’t you two study together?” Allen forked a bite of potato salad.
Not expecting the change of conversation or the reference to Meg, I mumbled, “Um, yeah.”
“Meg, Meg?” Peter asked.
Sarah, probably in tune with my unease, answered, “She and Lizzie have lost contact over the years.”
“Now, there was someone who had a great sense of humor, unlike you, little sister.” He leveled his eyes on me.
I glared at Peter. Booze played a huge part in Meg’s playfulness.
“Can you introduce me?” Allen asked, completely oblivious to the unease swirling overhead like a Category 5 storm.
“I’m giving a talk at the symposium,” I said in the most noncommittal way.
“I reserved my spot. Mom and Dad are going as well.” Allen sliced off a chunk of steak.
“Are you?” I asked, looking my father in the eye.
“Wouldn’t miss it.” Dad seemed genuinely interested.
Peter, on the other hand, didn’t show any interest. Just in case I didn’t pick up on his body language, he said, “Too bad I have to work.”
“It’s on a Saturday,” Allen helpfully offered, brushing some hair out of his eyes.
“Which one?”
“A week from today.”
Peter rubbed his chin. “I’ll have to check with my assistant, but I think I’m golfing with clients.”
“Translation, he’s going to make sure his assistant wrangles up some clients so he can’t go.” Gabe laughed. “I’m manning the store in Fort Collins, so I can’t. To be honest, though, it’s not my cup of tea.”
“I appreciate the honesty. No worries. Sarah doesn’t like going either. It’s possible I may burst out into lecture-mode too much at home.”
“Oh, I’m going to this one.” Sarah perked up in her seat as if suddenly interested in history, but I knew her true reason for wanting to be there.
“Does that mean you found a sitter?” I asked.
“I’ll convince Bailey to help if my mom can’t commit to the whole day.”
Dubious, I asked. “How?”
She rubbed her fingertips together, implying bribery. “She let it slip last week that she’s desperate for cash. Apparently, it’s not cheap to get off the ground.” She drummed the table with her fingers. “That reminds me, we need to get some instruments for the twinks.”
“When Lizzie was two, she had a drum set she loved,” Dad said.
“I did?” I peeked over my shoulder at Freddie, who was watching the adults at the table as if following every word.
Dad nodded.
Tie leaned forward to ask Peter, “What was your instrument? The triangle?”
Peter frowned. “I didn’t have time—”
Dad cut him off. “Maracas. Of course, he used to hit the other kids with them.”
“He hasn’t changed. Except today, he threatened to whack everyone with his nine iron.” Gabe laughed.
“Don’t buy Ollie maracas. She takes after Uncle Peter,” Allen offered.
“Smart kid,” Peter plucked a piece of cornbread off Gabe’s plate.
“How are your classes going, Allen?” I asked to pave the way for my real question.
>
“Fantastic.” He filled me in for several moments.
When I saw my chance, I asked, “And Bailey? How are her classes?”
He sipped his water. “She doesn’t talk about school much.”
“Has she at least mentioned her favorite course or any of her professors?”
Allen shook his head and turned to ask Gabe a question about CU’s opponent for this evening’s football game, which I had promised to watch with him.
“Oh, Peter, before I forget, Samuel stopped by the house to speak to you about some deal you two have cooking at work.” Tie chewed on her bottom lip.
“He knew I wouldn’t be home today.” Peter lobbed a piece of bread into his mouth.
“Must have slipped his mind.” She shrugged. “Not everyone follows your every move like you’re some kind of finance rock star.”
That night, after tucking the already asleep twinkies in, Sarah found me in the library.
“Preparing for Saturday?” She eased onto the couch facing my desk, one leg tucked underneath her.
I leaned back into my leather desk chair. “Did you know my family was going to be there?”
She shook her head. “Does that make you nervous?”
“A little,” I confessed, tossing my pen on the yellow notepad.
Sarah’s smile lit up her face. “This isn’t your first rodeo. You’ll be fine.”
“I’m used to students ignoring me, but…”
“Is it your family being there or Meg that’s keeping you up?”
In hindsight, I should have seen that one coming. “She’s heard me speak. Many times.”
Sarah’s eyes hardened. “You know what I mean.”
I scratched the top of my head. “Guess I better get used to it. We hobnob in the same circles. Academia is more incestuous than… I don’t know.”
“Let’s hope your inability to make a comparison isn’t a sign of how your presentation will go next week.”
“Hey.” I tossed a wadded paper at her, missing completely. “Don’t start planting thoughts like that in my brain.”
“Come over here and shut me up.” She spread out her arms.
Briskly, I made my way to her, laying Sarah on her back on the couch to allow me to climb on top. Brushing some strands of hair off her cheek, I said, “Please don’t worry about Meg.”
A Conflicted Woman Page 10
