by Debby Mayne
After I finish putting on my makeup, I go back down to the kitchen, where George has put some boxes on the counter to carry the food. I used to have to remind him to save boxes for me, but now he does it without my having to ask.
I fill one box with cold food and the other with hot stuff. He comes back inside just in time to carry them to the car.
“Ready to face my family?” He puts his hand on my shoulder and gazes lovingly into my eyes.
“Ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s go.”
All the way to Bucky and Marybeth’s house, we chat about what we expect to happen. “Do you think the boys will try to blow something up again?” George asks.
“I doubt it. I heard that your grandpa has hired a police officer to just hang around. The boys aren’t stupid.”
He rolls his eyes as he turns toward the family property. “Even though they act like they are.”
“Maybe so, but I doubt they’ll pull any pranks with a police officer there.”
“You never know how teenage boys think.”
I ponder his comment for a moment. “You’re right, which is probably why it’s good we never had boys.”
He chuckles. “In case you’ve forgotten, teenage girls can be quite a challenge too.”
“Oh, trust me, I haven’t forgotten. And they can still frustrate you after they’re adults.”
George knows better than to add a comment now, since I’ve gone on and on about how worried I am about them. With one daughter pregnant and her husband seriously injured, I’m concerned about their future. And with the other daughter looking to live completely on her own, I’m a basket case. Having both of them moving out at the same time made me sick to my stomach, but it was somewhat tempered by the fact that they had each other.
“They’ll be just fine, Sheila. They’re smart women.” He grins at me. “Just like their mama.”
I reach over and pat him on the arm. I appreciate George’s compliments, but I still can’t help worrying. And my immediate concern is having our daughters’ feelings hurt when people don’t eat their food.
“Make sure you load your plate up with whatever the girls bring,” I say. “And try to eat it if possible.”
George shakes his head. “Why don’t we let things happen in a more natural way?”
“I don’t want their feelings to get hurt.”
“They can handle it. I’m sure their feelings have been hurt before, and it’ll happen again. That’s the kind of thing that adults have to deal with.”
“I know, but—” I stop myself to keep from bringing up the times they both came crying to me when they were little and how it hurt me as much as it did them.
He pulls into a spot on the massive circular driveway in front of the mansion, puts the car in Park, and turns to me. “Let it go, Sheila. They’re grown women. Stop trying to baby them.” He glances over toward the crowd in front of the house. “Speaking of the girls, they’re already here.”
I open my door. “C’mon, let’s go.”
We’re about twenty feet from the front porch when George stops and gives me a look of concern. “Looks like there might be trouble.”
“What?”
He nods toward the group. That’s when I notice that boy Sally brought to the last reunion making the rounds, chatting up some of the family. Sally and her new guy are standing off to the side, watching him.
“This could get awkward.”
“Uh-oh.” I cringe. “I invited him, but then I heard Sally uninvited him. I wonder why he decided to come anyway.”
“There’s no telling.” George closes his eyes momentarily and shakes his head. “With my family, if there isn’t enough natural drama, someone will create it.”
When we first walked up and spotted Tom, my first thought was that there was some confusion. I remember how he’d gotten the invitation, but I thought he was clear about being uninvited. Maybe he’ll see that I have a date and take the hint that he needs to leave.
That thought is quickly squelched as he approaches with his hand extended to Nate. “Hi there. Welcome to the Bucklin family reunion.”
Nate smiles and shakes Tom’s hand. “Were you born into this family, or did you marry into it?”
Tom leans back and belts out a strange sound that only remotely resembles a laugh. “Obviously, Sally hasn’t told you about me yet.”
Nate gives me a look of concern. “Is there something I need to know about?”
I don’t want to lie, but I don’t want to say something mean about Tom either. So I just shrug and try to act nonchalant. “Tom and I have been friends for a while. We met at a children’s fashion trade show.”
I cut my gaze over to Tom with the sternest look I can manage. I hold my breath until he nods. “Yeah, we’re old friends,” he says.
I’m pretty sure Nate has picked up on the lack of sincerity, bordering on sarcasm, in Tom’s tone. “It’s nice to meet you, Tom.”
Is that icicles in Nate’s voice, or is it just my paranoia kicking in?
Tom gives a clipped nod. “Nice to meet you too. I’ll say good-bye to a few folks and head back to Jackson.” He gives me one last look, shakes his head, and walks away.
“Sally!” The sound of Mama’s voice causes me to turn around. “I’m so happy to see you.” She cuts a warning look in Tom’s direction and then faces Nate with a smile. “And who have we here?”
I see Mama all the time, but if someone were to hear her now, they’d think we’re never around each other. And her voice sounds tight and tinny.
“Hey, Mama. This is Nate.”
Mama looks up at Nate, shifts the box she’s holding to the side, studies his face for an uncomfortable several seconds, and then gives him a warm smile. “Nice to meet you, Nate.”
I think most guys would be nervous in this situation, but Nate seems perfectly at ease as he flashes a smile back at her. “So nice to meet you too, Mrs. Wright. Would you like for me to take that?”
“Um . . .” Her lips twitch as she glances at me before looking back up at him. “Sure, that would be nice. Why don’t we head on around back so we can put this stuff with the rest of the food?”
Since Nate and I arrived with the food I brought, he knows where to go, so he leads the way. Mama and I follow close behind.
She whispers, “I brought enough to cover for you and Sara . . . that is, if y’all aren’t sure about what you made.”
“Are you saying you don’t think we did a good enough job?”
“No, of course I’m not saying any such thing. It’s just that . . . I don’t know. Y’all weren’t exactly little Suzie Homemakers.”
“We’re grown women now. We know how to cook.”
Mama pulls her chin back. “I’m just sayin’.” She holds her hands out. “I’m sure your daddy and I will enjoy whatever you brought.”
Nate stops at a table. “How’s this, Mrs. Wright? Is it okay if I put it here?”
“Just place the box on the corner of the table. I’ll put everything out where it belongs.”
Again, she whispers, “Where’s the stuff you brought? We can move it to the back and put mine in front of it.”
If this weren’t Mama, I would be offended. But I know her well enough to understand that she’s trying to save Sara and me from public humiliation.
“Okay, before you say another word, I want you to try a few things.” I lead her over to the hummus-stuffed celery Sara made, pick one up, and hand it to her. “Here, try this.”
She takes it, looks it over, and then nibbles at the edge. When she tastes the hummus, her eyes widen. “Did you make this?”
“No, Sara did. What do you think?”
“This stuff is delicious. Did Shay help y’all out again?”
“No, we did it without any help. Now I want you to try one of the things I made.”
She sees the meatballs that are exactly like the ones I brought to the last gathering. “I’d love to try a meatball. Did you do something different?”
“No, I used the exact same recipe Shay showed me before. I want you to taste something else I made.” I pick up one of the prosciutto-wrapped melon slices, place it on a napkin, and hand it to her. “I think you’ll like it.”
She eats all of it before giving me a thumbs-up. “Good job, Sally. Y’all are good at making appetizers. How are you with actual cooking?”
“Gettin’ pretty good, if I must say so myself.” I blow on my fingertips and rub them on my shirt in an exaggerated manner.
“Amazing. Y’all are all grown up now.”
I hold my hands out to my sides. “It happens.”
Nate points to something he brought. “I would ask you to try my brownies, but I’m sure they’re good because I bought them from the bakery.”
“Hey, what’s going on over here?”
Mama and I glance up in time to see Marybeth coming toward us.
“We’re not supposed to touch the food yet.”
“I was just tasting my daughter’s food.” Mama places her hands on her hips, looking just like she used to when she was getting ready to lay into Sara and me when we misbehaved. “You can’t—”
A contrite look comes over Marybeth. “I didn’t mean to sound like I was fussin’.” She makes a big deal of scurryin’ over, exaggerating her arm motions as she sidles up to us. She tilts her head sideways as she looks up at me with a conspiratorial grin. “Mind if I try one of those?”
“You’re not supposed to—” Mama stops when I give her a glare and hold up one of my hands. I can tell she didn’t get the hint that Marybeth was trying to bond with us, but now I think she does. She gestures toward the melon and prosciutto wraps. “Help yourself.”
Marybeth leans over, picks one up, says, “Shh, don’t tell anyone,” and then pops it into her mouth. Her eyes roll in appreciation. “That is off-the-charts delicious.”
She reaches for another one, but Mama playfully swats at her. “Not until it’s time to eat. We don’t want to eat up the whole buffet.”
Marybeth giggles—something I’ve never seen her do. “Spoilsport. Hey, do y’all want to see what I’m doing out back?”
I look up at Nate, and he nods. “Y’all go on ahead. I think I’ll grab something from the drink table and go talk to Shay for a few minutes.”
“Are you sure?” I tilt my head to see if he’s really okay being left.
“Positive.” He grins. “I’m a big boy.”
Mama glances at me, I nod, and then we both look at Marybeth. “Are you getting back into gardening?” Mama asks.
“I am, but Bucky doesn’t want me to mess up the lawn after he had the whole thing redone.” She makes a face. “I’m having to work around his precious landscaping.”
“Let’s go see what you’ve been up to.” Mama takes me by the arm and pulls me toward Marybeth. “C’mon, Sally. Stop lollygagging.”
I’m so annoyed I could spit. After all that excitement over Officer Murdoch asking for my phone number and giving me hope that he’d call, I haven’t heard squat. But I know he’s here at the reunion. Not only did I spot his patrol car in the front yard, Grandpa Jay told me he’d been asking about me.
If he’d called, I’d be happy to know he’s been talking about me, but as it is, it’s like he’s being a tease. I’m totally done with guys who play games after what Kyle did to me. Granted, I wasn’t all that into him after a while, but couldn’t he at least have let me think I broke his heart?
Speaking of Kyle, what’s he doing here? I blink, hoping my eyes are playing tricks on me, but there he is, walking toward me with a half grin on his face.
“Hey, Coralee.”
I squint and bob my head as I place a fist on my hip. “Just what do you think you’re doing here, Kyle?”
“You invited me, remember?”
I think back and can’t recall being specific and actually telling him where this place is. “How’d you find the place?”
He laughs. “You’ve told me so much about your cousins I know where all of them live.”
That’s just creepy. “I still don’t know why you’re here.”
“Now, that hurts my feelings, Coralee.”
The fake pain in his voice makes me want to smack him, but I’m not into violence, especially in front of my family, so I refrain.
“I’m your guest. You’re supposed to be nice to me.”
“But we’re not an item anymore, remember?”
“Doesn’t matter. You still invited me, and you didn’t tell me you changed your mind about having me here.” He glances around before looking back at me. “And I didn’t tell you I wasn’t coming, so it would have been rude not to show up.”
“Says no etiquette expert, ever.” I roll my eyes as I back away from him.
“I said some things I didn’t mean, and I really want to talk to you. Maybe we can—” He shrugs. “You did invite me, you know.”
“It doesn’t matter if I invited you because now I’m uninviting you.”
“You can’t do that. I’m here, and I even brought food.”
“You did?” I glance around and see that some of my cousins have stopped talking and are now watching us.
He nods. “I brought a variety of chips and dips as well as a plate of cookies from a recipe my mother gave me.”
“You baked?”
“Yeah. Want to try one? They’re delicious.” He places his arm around my back, but I yank myself away from him. I’m totally not in the mood to play whatever game he’s into.
“Is this guy bothering you, Coralee?”
The sound of a familiar deep voice coming up from behind me snags my attention, so I turn around and find myself face-to-face with Officer Murdoch. My heart starts pounding, and my palms instantly go damp.
“Um . . .” I look over at Kyle, whose eyebrows are practically in his hairline. “We were just—” I stop because I can’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t be a lie.
Kyle quickly recovers. “Coralee and I haven’t seen each other in a while.”
“Oh?” Officer Murdoch gives me a questioning look. “So everything’s okay?”
I shrug. “I guess.”
He takes a step back and gives Kyle a menacing look that makes me want to smile. But I don’t.
“I reckon I’ll let the two of you finish up your conversation while I make the rounds.” He smiles at me, and that melty feeling in my abdomen returns. “I’ll check with you later, okay?”
I nod. Maybe there’s still hope.
As soon as he’s out of hearing distance, Kyle folds his arms and glares down at me. “Who is that guy?”
I bob my head and meet his gaze. “The police officer my grandpa hired to make sure nothing goes wrong at this reunion.”
Kyle puckers his lips and whistles. “Your family reunions must be doozies to have to hire cops.”
“They can be.” I think back and can only remember one major incident that happened at the last one. “Folks in my family like to blow things up.” Maybe that’ll scare him away.
“Sounds exciting!” He wiggles his eyebrows. “I can’t wait to see what happens at this one.”
I let out a groan. Kyle is clearly determined to make my life miserable.
“Look, Kyle, I don’t want to make a scene, but we broke up, remember?”
He bobs his head a few times and then shrugs. “I might have made a mistake.”
“No, you didn’t make a mistake.” I give him the biggest frown I can manage. “We didn’t make a mistake. We’re clearly not meant for each other, and I don’t like being used.”
“Are you saying I used you?”
Is he stupid or what? “You needed tutoring, remember? And you used me to get what you needed.”
“I just said that, Coralee, but I didn’t mean it.”
“This conversation is going nowhere, and I really think it’s time for you to pick up your chips and cookies and go home.” My voice cracks.
He widens his stance. “I’m not going any
where, and I don’t think there’s anything you can do that won’t cause a scene.”
Once again, he has my number. I’ve always made an issue of the fact that I hate drama, so he’s confident that I’m not going to say or do anything that would create it. The problem with that line of thinking is that he’s forgotten about having the police officer here. I can let Officer Murdoch know that Kyle isn’t an invited guest at this private party.
I look around until I finally spot the police officer. “Excuse me. I need to go speak to my friend.”
Kyle doesn’t say a word as I walk away. I’m hoping he sees me chatting with Trace and takes a hint. However, after I’ve tapped him on the shoulder, I glance around and see Kyle still watching me.
“Hey, Coralee. Did you need something?”
“Yeah. Um . . . would you mind telling that guy . . . um—” I can’t bring myself to come right out and let him know what’s going on because it would cause drama, and the very thought of my being responsible for it makes my stomach churn.
“Tell what guy what?” He glances over in Kyle’s direction. “Are you talking about your boyfriend?”
“See, that’s just it. He’s not my boyfriend. He’s—”
“He’s not?” The look of joy on Officer Murdoch’s face catches me off guard. “Then what’s he doing here?”
I take a deep breath and blow it out. “We were sort of dating, until I found out he was just using me to help him study and I got upset even though I wasn’t really all that into him and . . .” My voice trails off as I realize I’m rambling. “It wasn’t working out, so we broke up.”
“And he didn’t take the hint that once y’all broke up, he was uninvited?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“That’s a tough one.” He smiles down at me in a warm way that kicks my pulse into an even higher gear. “Let me think of something, but it might be a few minutes. Your grandfather has asked me to chat with the teenagers, just to remind them that I’m here.”
