He slaps Odin on the shoulder and says, “I guess I owe your momma fifty bucks.”
Meanwhile, the woman I’m going out on a limb and guessing is his mom, gazes at me with friendly curiosity. “Oh stop, Ray. I won’t make you pay up. I’m always happy to see my son.”
“I told you I was comin’ and I kept my word.” Odin gives my fingers a squeeze, “I’d like you to meet my folks, Ray and Shannon Hill. This is Daphne Baum. Originally from Idaho, she’s a ranger over at Cades Cove. Been in the area for about six months. Doesn’t have kin around here.”
The three of us gawk at him, me most of all.
“Thanks for sharing my bio, Odin.” I extend my hand to his mother. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Oh, you too, darlin’.” She gives me a warmer grin. “You don’t know how wonderful it is to meet you.”
Her enthusiasm is a little overwhelming. I shake his dad’s hand too.
“Have you said hello to Ida yet?” his mom asks. “Better do it now before the locusts descend on the food.”
Odin flashes me a smug look as if to say See? I told you.
“We have to find your grandmother. She’s around here somewhere. I promised I’d fix her a plate.” Ray’s already on the move and Shannon follows behind him, giving us a wave before the crowd swallows them.
We join a shorter line than the one at the buffet. “What’s this for?”
“It’s the receiving line to say hello.”
I peer around him, surprised to see people formally queued up to greet the birthday girl.
“This doesn’t seem very fun for Ida, sitting here while people parade by her, saying the same thing over and over again.” I whisper my thoughts near Odin’s shoulder so the others don’t overhear.
He laughs. “She’s a hundred—sitting and pretending to listen are two of her favorite pastimes.”
I gaze up at Odin to check on his reaction to me meeting his parents. From his rambling and his mom’s response, I’m guessing he doesn’t introduce many new people to his family.
“Your mom and dad seem nice.” I offer a general compliment to test the waters.
“They’re good people.” His fingers find mine again and he entwines them together. “Mom will be calling tomorrow to get the full scoop on you.”
“Really? I thought you gave her a pretty thorough rundown.” I squeeze his hand.
“I, uh … I guess I did.” He chuckles softly. “Sorry about that. I’m not used to introducing people to my parents. I mean, women.” He rambles and then stops as he blows out a frustrated breath. “You know what I mean. I wanted you to meet them, and I’m glad you did.”
“I do. I’m glad too.” I rest my other hand on his bicep. “Thank you.”
I look up and see we’ve reached the front of the line.
“Odin? That you? I’m so happy you’re here.” The tiny woman wears an elaborately decorated paper tiara tucked behind thin, white braids wrapped around her head like a headband. She grins up at him, the lines on her face like a map of city streets. She holds up both of her thin hands for him to grasp before turning her attention to me. “Is this beautiful woman the girlfriend you’ve been telling me about?”
Girlfriend.
The sound in the room goes all tinny as I try the word on for size. Surprisingly, it fits comfortably. Meeting the parents. Being called girlfriend. This is a big night and I’m okay.
“Nannie Ida, this is Daphne Baum—Ranger Baum.”
Since Odin still holds both of her hands in one of his, I give a small wave, unsure if I should also curtsey.
“Because my favorite great-grandson is sweet on you, I’ll forgive you for working at the park. What do you do there, dear?”
She doesn’t miss a thing. I share about the talks I give and the visitor center. She listens, or pretends to, while seated on an antique chair that strongly resembles at throne.
“Come back and find me after you get some food. I requested stack cakes with apple butter, twenty cakes with five layers each. Have you ever had stack cake before, Daphne?”
“I don’t think I have.”
She releases Odin’s hands and pats my forearm. “You don’t know what you’re missing. Nothing like them. Nothing compares.”
With one promise to come back and another one to dance, we wander away from the crowd gathered around the birthday girl.
“I feel like I’ve just had an audience with the queen.”
“In many ways, you have.” His hand on my elbow guides me to our next destination.
“She loves you. You probably are her favorite.”
“And you’re basing this declaration on what exactly?” He strokes his beard, which I now notice he’s trimmed recently.
“Human observation.”
“All right, then.”
“I have no evidence to the contrary,” I declare.
“I’m the black sheep, remember,” he says, keeping his voice low lets someone overhear him and realize who he is.
“Which means you’re different, and different means special.”
He scoffs and scowls.
In the corner opposite the band is another group of tables, these lined with pies and cakes of all kinds. Little kids play in the area, running circles in a game of tag. Smartypants keeping close to the desserts—they know it’s the best spot in the place. The adults aren’t paying attention because they’re kids being kids, and as I watch, two littler ones swipe cupcakes from the far side of the table, away from the eyes of authority.
I poke Odin’s side and point at the horde. “Which one of them is the black sheep for their generation?”
“What are you talking about? They’re little kids.”
“You said every generation has one. If it’s by birth order or whatever made up bullshit you were told, we can ask them to line up for easier identification. We’ll bribe them with sweets.”
“You’re crazy.” Briefly closing his eyes, he reopens them to give me a stern look. “I know what you’re trying to do.”
“I’m sampling the population. One black sheep per generation, and I’m guessing said sheep must also be male. We can cut all the girls from the sample, even though from what I’ve been told, they can be as wild and rebellious as the boys. That leaves us with …” I pause to count. “Eleven possibilities. My money is on the really little one with a cupcake in his left hand and his right index finger in his ear. Trouble written all over him even though he’s no higher than the corn in July.” My Southern accent returns at the end of my speech. Glancing around, I hope no one else heard it and feels insulted. It truly is terrible.
A woman behind us has clearly been listening because she taps me on the shoulder and says, “I believe the old saying is ‘knee-high to a June bug’.”
“Thank you.” I give her a warm smile.
Odin turns to see who is speaking and his face lights up. “Hi, Lena.”
“Hey, Odin.” She hugs him. “Good to see you. Figured you’d find a way to skip tonight’s circus.”
She hugged him, penetrated his force-field with no visible resistance. Or did I just imagine that?