Okay, the only part of that statement that was true is the older part. I felt like an idiot and snakes writhed in my stomach. She would definitely win whatever game she was playing. The only option I had was putting up a valiant fight.
“How is the apartment?” Mom’s tone was clipped. “I wanted to come and help you set it up, but I never received an invitation.”
Like that had ever stopped her before. “It’s fine.” I matched her tone, going for a breezy demeanor that I knew would drive her around the bend. “I don’t own anything, so there’s really nothing I need help with.”
“That’s not true,” Grandpa countered, shuffling into the room. He was dressed in bright red shorts, a pale-yellow polo shirt, and a black belt. When I glanced at his feet, I found he was wearing black socks and a pair of Crocs. Yup. His outfit matched the chaos in his brain. “Hunter was over measuring for blinds. It sounds like you’re going to do some decorating.”
Well, that was a thorny subject ... and not just because Hunter was the last person I wanted to talk about. I couldn’t very well admit to feeling as if someone was watching me. It would turn into a thing, and my mother might well insist that I move in with her as a precautionary measure until Roy’s killer was caught. I’d rather live in my car than share a roof with my mother.
“He was just helping because I think blinds are a good idea if Grandpa is going to keep using my apartment for his afternoon bathroom breaks,” I replied coolly. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Yeah, that’s not what was going on.” Grandpa shook the side of my chair and raised an eyebrow, an unspoken message being sent.
I scowled as I got up from his chair — he had a regular stool in the restaurant and two regular chairs in his own house. Nobody was allowed to usurp his territory. I moved to the spot to his left. “You could’ve just asked,” I grumbled. “Or, I don’t know, you could’ve sat in a different chair.”
“No, I couldn’t.” He was blasé as he shifted his eyes between my mother and me. It was obvious he was trying to read the temperature of the room. “You and Hunter seemed to be getting along — other than that pushing and shoving thing you were doing of course — so I’m surprised he didn’t come to the barbecue with you.”
He was just talking to hear himself talk now. He wanted my mother to be aware that Hunter and I had been spending time together so she could have something fresh to complain about. She was never happy when we took off for the woods for hours as teenagers.
“He was just helping me,” I repeated. “It’s not a big deal. We’re ... friends.”
“Friends?” Mom’s perfectly manicured eyebrow arched. “I don’t remember you two ever being friends. I remember lots of groping and pawing and wistful looks that made me want to vomit.”
Ah, yes, there she was. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t stop being herself. “Well, we’re just friends now. I don’t know what you want me to say. I needed help measuring for blinds and he volunteered.” That sounded plausible, right?
“And what about his girlfriend?” Mom asked. “Is she all right with him helping you?”
I avoided eye contact and reached for the coffee carafe. “I don’t see why she would be upset. It’s not as if anything is going on.”
“Yet,” Grandpa clarified. “Nothing is going on yet. It’s only a matter of time. I’m hopeful the boy isn’t stupid and ends things with the whiny girl before giving in to his baser urges with you. That would be the polite thing to do.”
The conversation was quickly spiraling out of control. “Let’s talk about something else,” I suggested, glancing around the table. “Like Dad. Where is he?” Seeing my father right now would be a blessing. He always stood up for me when Mom got her panties in a bunch.
“Your father is on a sales trip and won’t be back until next week. He sends his regards.”
Well, crap. There went that idea. “And everyone else?” I glanced around, hopeful something — I would take anything at this point — would steal the spotlight currently fixed on me.
“Everyone who is coming is already here,” Grandma replied. “Your grandfather will start barbecuing in a few minutes, right, Charles?”
Grandpa absently nodded. “Sure. Sure.” The man was a great cook but a terrible griller. His steaks were always burnt on the outside and raw on the inside. Even ruined steak would be better than this conversation, though.
“I can help,” I offered.
He shook his head. “Oh, no. You should catch up with your mother. It’s been a long time since the two of you were together.”
Not long enough. I just knew she would start grilling me about my writing plans. She wanted me to succeed more than anyone else because then she had bragging rights over her sisters about which of them had raised the most successful child. She had that title sewn up for years ... until things fell apart and I failed her. Now I was no different from anybody else, and she took it as a personal affront.
“Yes, Stormy and I will spend hours catching up,” Mom agreed, her smile more evil than welcoming. “For starters, I thought we would discuss why she was questioning Mom about Grandma’s witch history ... and then we’ll turn things to Hunter and her plans for getting back on her feet financially. I think, between those three topics, we should be able to eat up a few hours.”
My stomach twisted and I wished I would’ve risked running. How could the outcome have been any worse?
“How does that sound?” Mom asked brightly.
Like my worst nightmare. “It sounds great,” I lied, flicking my accusatory eyes to Grandma. She’d ratted me out. I would have to pay her back somehow. “All those topics sound amazing. I can’t wait to talk about them.”
I was still playing the game. It was all I had left.
22
Twenty-Two
“That was fun, huh?”
Alice appeared at the end of the driveway and gave me a sidelong look as I collected myself for the drive back to the restaurant three hours later. I thought I was safe to have a private moment out in the open.
Apparently I was wrong.
“Every meal spent with our family is a true joy,” I drawled, fumbling for my keys.
“You know she did it on purpose, right?”
“Who?”
“Your mother. She’s trying to teach you a lesson.”
“Oh, I know she did it on purpose.” I thought back to the dinner, to the ten times she brought up the book, and blew out a sigh. “Grandpa says she doesn’t understand what happened and that’s why she keeps doing it.”
“I don’t think any of us truly understand what happened.” Alice’s voice was softer than usual. She was trying to console me, though that was well out of the realm of possibility at this point. “Maybe you should sit us all down and explain it.”
That sounded like pure torture. “Or maybe I’ll just go back to my job as a waitress and muddle through until the rest of you realize that you can’t control my life. How does that sound?”