Katie is still talking to Lance, so I head in their direction. No Brittany in sight yet—at least that’s one silver lining. Lance sees me approaching and offers a huge smile. He looks so much more relaxed since the last time I saw him. The move must have done him some good, at least. His sandy brown hair is cut shorter than normal, which makes him look older somehow. As I come closer, he opens his arms for a hug.
“Hi, big brother,” I say as I embrace him.
“Don’t you eat?” Lance remarks as he hugs me, and I swat him on the arm. Honestly, do I look that different? Why do people keep commenting on my appearance?
“I eat plenty, thank you very much. Looks like you’ve been doing a little of that, too.”
Lance pulls back and pats himself on the belly. “It’s sympathy weight. I’m sure it will fall right off in a few months. How you doing, Maddie? You okay?” The concerned look in his eyes makes me smile.
Sure, if you don’t count the fact that everyone here thinks I have a child and my mother is convinced that I’m bulimic. Everything is a-okay.
“Good grief, Maddie, you look positively anorexic.”
Perhaps I spoke too soon.
“Hi, Brittany,” I mutter, turning to watch her approach. The pregnancy is not wearing well on her—her face and arms look really swollen, like she’s been stung by a swarm of bees. Her face is blotchy from the heat underneath a thick swath of molasses-tinted hair. Mentioning that fact is tempting, since she just threw in the anorexic comment, but I choose to take the high road.
“Seriously, you need to put some weight on,” Brittany says, wrapping her arm protectively around Lance. “I would swear I was talking to a twig. Am I right, Lance?”
“She looks fine,” Lance comments with a sigh.
Brittany pulls away as though he violated their sacred agreement. Whatever I say, always agree with me.
“Well, I think she looks like a twig. Will you get me some lemonade?” she asks Lance, who dutifully takes the few steps to a clear pitcher full of the yellow liquid and grabs a plastic cup. “It’s so dreadful being pregnant through the hot part of summer. Your mom really should have thought ahead before she invited us over, so everyone wouldn’t have to be miserable.”
Watching that softball hang in the air in front of me is pretty painful, but I decline to comment. It would be too easy.
“I’m sure no one would mind if you had to go inside for a while to cool off,” Lance offers.
“Why should I have to go inside and sit by myself? I wouldn’t be able to talk to anyone!”
Um…
“Your lemonade,” Lance announces, handing the cup to Brittany. She takes a drink and runs the back of her hand along her temple, pulling it away to determine whether she’s perspiring.
“I’m sure you never get hot,” Brittany states, peering at me. “You’re like one of those scrawny hairless dogs. You’ll probably just stand out here and shiver all day.” She turns her glare in Lance’s direction. “Where’s my cake? Why didn’t your mom put my cake out?”
“I don’t know—go ask her,” Lance says in a defeated fashion. The three of us watch as Brittany slowly crosses the yard.
Poor Lance. I wish there was some way I could rescue him, but I don’t suppose there is anything I can do to assist him with that particular problem. Plus, I’m pretty sure she just called me a dog, and I’m most certainly not hairless. I have a huge mess of hair. Huge.
“Don’t mind her,” he explains. “This pregnancy is making her more than a little irritable. I’ve been looking forward to the picnic, just so I could spend a few minutes away from her. She’s starting to drive me crazy.”
“Well, we didn’t even notice, right Maddie?” Katie asks cheerfully. Katie is such a little saint.
“No, I didn’t notice.” Besides, Brittany is always that irritable. Lance shouldn’t blame it on the pregnancy.
I hear a slight commotion and look over to see Mom standing on a chair. Yet another fashion statement I didn’t notice before jumps out at me as I realize one of her flip-flops is red and one is blue. Martha Stewart would positively cringe on that one!
“Can I get everyone’s attention, please?” she calls. “The food is ready, but before we eat, I just wanted to say a few things. First of all, thank you everyone for coming to our home. I hope this will be the beginning of many gatherings in the future.”
Dad emerges from the side of the house and steps in line next to me, face red and hair plastered to his forehead. Looks like he’s been slaving away in the heat next to the grill for quite a while.
“Also, there is plenty of food, so don’t be bashful. I don’t want to have anything left over when we’re finished, so feel free to stuff yourselves.”
That sounds mighty healthy.
“Oh, and one more thing: For those of you who think my daughter Maddie was pregnant—she does not have a baby. She’s not in a relationship and isn’t pregnant, because she can’t find herself a man. Eat up!”
Mom claps her hands loudly and jumps down from the chair, ushering people towards the table. I’m vaguely aware of several looking in my direction, some of them whispering.
“Let’s go,” I whisper to Katie, who shakes her head.
“Just wait a few minutes and things will die down. You don’t want to storm out.”
Oh, yes I do. I want to slam every door between me and the Tahoe and then peel out of the driveway, throwing gravel everywhere.
Well, maybe not spewing gravel, because Mom would just make Dad pick up the mess, but the slamming is a definite must.
“What are you working on in your workshop these days?” Lance asks Dad.
“Oh, I’ve got this old lawnmower I’ve been trying to get working…”
Sliding away from my family, I offer Katie an apology and make a silent retreat to the back of the yard. I’ve never been able to figure out why Mom is always at odds with me. She certainly doesn’t treat Lance the same way. Maybe it’s because I’m a girl, and she wants me to do things exactly like she would? Dad always treated me like a princess, except during the times Mom berated him for doing so.
The thing I can never quite grasp is why Mom seems to adore Brittany. For years I thought Mom just liked her for Lance’s sake, but now it seems like she does truly care for her more than me. I’ve never heard Mom talk to Brittany the way she speaks to me, and she always seems to take her side in an argument. Maybe she expects me to be the bigger person, being her flesh and blood, but it still seems odd.
Unless it’s because they’re kind of the same? Mom and Brittany? I mean, they do have some traits in common, and that would explain why I can’t make any headway with either of them. Maybe that’s the whole thing with a man marrying a woman who is like his mother…
“Hey, sis,” Lance interrupts my thoughts, startling me.
“Hey.”
“What are you doing back here?”
“Not finding myself a man, in case you were worried about that. Oh, and pondering why Mom keeps trying to ruin my life.”
Lance sighs and leans against the wooden privacy fence. “I don’t think it’s intentional, if it’s any consolation.”
“Not really, no.”
“Mom just doesn’t know how to be tactful.”
“You don’t have to defend her, Lance,” I say, pulling a weed from the grass and twirling it between my fingers. Dad’s lawnmower obviously isn’t quite working up to par.
“I know, and I’m not, but take my advice and ignore her. By the way, when is Josh coming home?”
“He says he still doesn’t know,” I inform him with a sigh.
“I always thought you and Josh…”
Laughter comes out of my throat before I can stop it. “Josh is every bit as brotherly to me as you are, Lance. He still calls me Mad and everything, just like when we were kids.”
“Mad,” he repeats, laughing along with me. “That’s hilarious. That kid always did follow you around wherever you went. It makes sense that he’d
want you in his house, so you couldn’t get too far away.”
“Very funny,” I say, throwing the weed at him.
“Come on,” he states, pulling me by the hand. “Let’s get some food and fatten you up a bit. I have a very jealous pregnant wife who just can’t stand you looking skinnier than her, so we have to do something about that.”
Lance and I walk back toward the food, and his pep talk has shone a slightly brighter light on the day. Very slight, like the difference between 2:00 p.m. and 2:15 p.m.
Standing in line by the food, I mentally prepare my healthy lunch strategy by locating grilled chicken, salad, a vegetable tray before I feel someone grab my arm. Aunt Maria cuts in line behind me, her gray bob swinging in the breeze.
“There you are, kiddo,” she says. “I was wondering where you disappeared to.”
“Well, you found me,” I reply as we fill our plates and slowly move through the line.
“So sad about you not finding a man, sweetie,” she adds, taking a spoonful of potato salad. “Did you know Serena got married?”
As I’m hunting down a lawn chair, my eyes find their way to my cousin, Serena.
“Yes, I heard. Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Serena states as I settle myself into the chair and begin cutting up my chicken. Serena is fifteen years older than me, so I guess Aunt Maria is trying to convince me that it’s never too late. Not really helpful, because spending the next fifteen years alone is not exactly a pleasant prospect at the moment.
“Serena met her husband in an internet chat room,” Aunt Maria continues. “Maybe she could give you the website.”
Serena appears to be only slightly less uncomfortable than me, so I smile as a reassurance that I will most certainly not be asking her for any websites.
“Or, maybe she can give you the names of some of her husband’s friends,” Aunt Maria suggests, glancing at Serena. “They have an online gaming club.”
“Oh, no, I forgot my lemonade,” I quickly say, removing myself from their presence. Poor Serena. It’s bad enough that I have to endure this insanity! There shouldn’t be any innocent victims in the wake.
Helping myself to the lemonade, I notice Brittany sitting by herself in the shade. She looks lonely, and for a split second I almost feel sorry for her. I know, I must be out of my mind.
“Hey, Brittany.” As I sit down beside her, she looks over at me and simply raises her eyebrows. “Feeling any better?”
“It’s still hot out here, if that’s what you mean,” she replies.
Hmm… I can see it’s going to take a lot to bring down the emotional wall of distaste.
“How do you like being back home?” I ask, taking a bite of my chicken.
“Oh, it’s got its ups and downs. I definitely miss my friends.”
“But Lance is home a lot more now. That must be nice.”
“It is nice, when he helps me out a little. Most of the time he just sits around expecting me to wait on him, like he’s the king of the castle or something. Being married isn’t that great, Maddie. You should just stay single.”
I might be able to brush off that comment if she wasn’t talking about my brother, who just finished saying some nice things to me. Unable to keep up my nice veneer, I mutter something about needing to find Katie as I take my leave.
As it turns out, Katie is being held captive by my father as he relays information about old lawnmowers, so I spot a small area set up for the kids along the side of the yard and make my way in that direction. One or two of them are eating, and the rest are running around in circles. That looks like the ticket, because they surely won’t question my love life.
Settling next to a little girl and boy who are politely eating their food, I begin to eat my chicken again.
“You’re Maddie, right?” the little girl asks. I nod, mouth full of chicken, and realize that I’ve placed myself in the middle of the Gardwin clan. “I heard somebody say you can’t find a man. Why not? They’re everywhere.”
“That’s just something silly that grown-ups say,” I explain. “It doesn’t really mean anything.”
“Sure it does,” Billy Gardwin states. “She fell off her wagon.”
“Fell off her wagon?” Jenny questions. “Do you have a wagon?”
“No, I don’t have a wagon.”
“It’s not really a wagon, silly,” Billy directs to Jenny. “That’s what they always say on TV when people get drunk. They can’t find a man, and they fell off the wagon.”
“You get drunk?” Jenny asks incredulously.
“No, I don’t get drunk,” I state very sharply, making sure I glare at Billy.
“That’s what they always say on TV, too,” he answers very succinctly.
Shaking my head, I go about eating my chicken. He apparently didn’t like me glaring at him, because he’s concocting a plan in his head. The reason I’m aware of that is that I’ve seen that look in his eyes before at church when he’s jerking me bald.
“I wonder what would happen if I put my hot dog in this mustard, and then put it in my pudding,” he expresses.
Ugh, for goodness sake, don’t let him try it.
Silently chewing, I watch as he does the very thing he was pondering. Still, I know there’s no way he’s going to…
Oh, he ate it. Be still, my stomach. He’s laughing now, with his mouth open and everything.
“That can make you very sick,” I try to tell him. “You shouldn’t do that.”
“Maybe it can make you very sick!” he exclaims. “Did that gross you out? What should I do next?”
“Please don’t do anything else,” I request, but he just laughs and sticks his hot dog in the mustard and pudding again. My attempts to look away are fruitless, since he is trying desperately to get my attention.
“Let’s see, what can I do now?” he asks, chuckling to himself. That has to be making him ill—it’s making me queasy just thinking about it.
“I know!” he shouts. “I’ll mix my potato salad with my pudding, and add a little mustard, and then mix that with my chocolate cake. Should I eat it?”
Jenny is goading him on, even as I am shaking my head, emphatically begging him not to eat that mess. He just sits there staring at me, laughing as he holds the trembling fork in front of his mouth.
“Do you dare me?”
“No.”
“Do you dare me?”
“No.”
“Do you dare me?” he tempts a third time.
“Yes, do it!” Jenny shrieks. He shoves the fork into his mouth.
And that’s it—I’m going to be sick. I’ve always been cursed with a weak stomach, and once it starts, there’s no stopping. Tossing down my chicken, I go running for the house, taking the stairs two at a time. I don’t even bother to see whether the back door closes behind me as I quickly make my way into the bathroom and lock myself inside, hitting the floor hard.
I had a sneaking suspicion that the Labor Day picnic at my parents’ house would be a nightmare, but I couldn’t have predicted sitting in the bathroom with my head hanging over the toilet. Nothing—I mean absolutely nothing—could make this day worse.
Standing up to wash my face, I turn on the water but jump when I hear someone banging on the door.
“Maddie? Maddie, are you in there?”
Mom. Perfect.
“Yes, Mom, it’s me.”
“Maddie, you get out of there this instant. You think I don’t know what you’re doing? I’m onto you, young lady.”
I can’t help but laugh in disgust as I drop my head into my hands.
“Maddie!” she yells again, banging even louder. “I mean it! Being skinny is not worth it. You need professional help.”
Humph. Maybe we all do.
Chapter Fourteen
Ding-dong.
Cooper and that stupid bell! I wish I knew how to put a short in it.
Opening the door between our offices, I stick my head inside to peek at him.
�
�You rang?”
“Ha ha, yes, I did! You rang! I like that.” He sits there smiling with those blindingly white teeth, clearly amused at himself.
“Can I help you with something?” I prod.
He clears his throat and leans back in his chair. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m leaving. I’ll be gone the rest of the day.”
“Okay, thanks.” I begin to shut the door, and then realize he isn’t finished.
“You’re still going to your tennis lesson this afternoon?”
“Of course, just like every Tuesday.”
“How is that coming along?”
“I still have a lot to learn, but I’m progressing slowly.” Actually, Max says I’m a natural, but Cooper doesn’t need to know that. Not yet, anyway.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll be a pro in no time. If you need more practice, I can set up an extra set of lessons with Max.”
“Maybe I’ll take you up on that,” I state breezily. No, I don’t need any extra lessons, but I wouldn’t pass up a little more time with Max if it was presented to me.
“Very well,” he says, rising from his chair. “I’ll have my cell phone if there’s an emergency.”
“Is there anything you’d like me to do while you’re gone?” I ask. It really is starting to become dreadfully boring up here, with Dina doing all the work and me basically doing nothing but playing tennis and running an occasional errand.
“Did you return that yellow shirt?”
“I did it yesterday.”
“What about that specialty coffee?”
“It’s on order.”
“Well, then…just sit there and look pretty.”
Of course—just sit there and look pretty. Forget you have a brain. Forget that you could have been settled comfortably into your new marketing position by now. You’re in the big times, sister–just sit and look pretty.
That’s it. I’ve had it. Project Cooper begins today.
“Psst…Dina,” I whisper, sticking my head out the door. “We need a brainstorm session.”
Dina looks around for a moment before she meanders toward my office. Things have gotten a little better up here, since Dina doesn’t exactly despise me anymore. I wouldn’t say we’re friends, but we share a common goal, and that counts for something.
Simply Mad (Girls of Wonder Lane Book 1) Page 12
