“I miss Joe all the time. He did things with me that your brother is too much of a computer geek to do. And don’t get me started on your brother-in-law.”
“That’s where I draw the line, Daddy. Thatch is a saint. Need I remind you that he married Serena. He’s too busy catering to his wife and kids to do much else. He also happens to be my favorite person in this family.”
“He married in.”
“Exactly.”
We both chuckle.
“Well, he’s hiding upstairs with your sister rather than helping me.”
“While you’re hiding from his daughter and playing family gossip.”
He harrumphs. “If I need a woman to call me out on my crap, I’ll go converse with your mother. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to it before she comes up with a list of unnecessary shit for me to do.” He hugs me briefly before opening a new box of iffy-looking lights to sift through.
“House looks phenomenal, Daddy. It’s going to be a great week.”
“You know what would be great?” He nods toward my empty glass. “You getting me more of that.”
“Not while you plan on using that death trap you think is a ladder. Seriously, Daddy, that thing is going to give out any second.”
“It’s as strong as an ox. It’s lasted all this time.”
“Case in point. I don’t trust it. I’ll go to the hardware store right now and grab something safer if you’ll stop using it.”
“She made it perfect, didn’t she?” He asks, ignoring my plea for his safety.
“You both did.”
Another shriek sounds from above, and we both look warily toward the house.
“I’ll be out here until dinner,” Dad grumbles under his breath, sorting through the box of lights before hoisting a set over his shoulder and heading back up the ladder. Ready for a refill, I step inside and come face to face with my niece, who already has my height matched.
“Hey, Auntie Whit!” Gracie wraps her arms around my waist, hugging the life out of me. “Grammy told me you were here!”
“Oh she did?”
“And I’m sooooo glad.”
“Are you now?” There’s always a catch. I see my niece and nephew often enough, and by often, I mean I don’t miss milestones and babysit at least twice a month. Gracie and I are close, and the aunt privilege makes me privy to pertinent information that I relay to my sister in very creative ways—making me a hero to my niece while keeping her safe from herself.
“I missed you,” she squeaks, her tone full of butter up.
“Missed you, too.”
“Hey,” she gives me a syrupy smile. “Can I borrow your phone for a minute?”
“Not a chance.”
The smile disappears just as quickly as it came, and the child frightens me with the demon morph to her voice when she speaks. “We’re stuck in this stupid cabin and no phones? I didn’t even want to come here!”
“Lord,” I hear my mom grumble from where she stands in the kitchen. I know it’s on the tip of her tongue to scold her granddaughter, but she’s holding back because she doesn’t want to start off the holiday being the bad guy.
And this is where I come in.
“Gracie, stop shrieking. You’re giving me a headache. And if you behave,” I bribe without hesitation, “I might let you be my glam squad. And by the way, I brought everything from my last shopping trip to Ulta for you to fool around with.” I lean in on a whisper. “Grammy has gone to a lot of trouble to make this fun for all of us. So, if you promise to keep your bitching to a minimum, I might even let you have a few things. Deal?”
I can see the gears turning as she mentally scans through the perks of my proposed compromise. “Okay. So, can I do your makeup now?”
“I was hoping you would. Go get it. It’s all in the red bag on the top of my suitcase.”
My sister walks into the den/Elvis museum where we stand negotiating, an inflatable king mattress primed for whomever my brother deemed important enough to occupy it. Gracie brushes past her mother wordlessly and defiantly before racing out of the room, through the kitchen, and down the hall toward the stairs.
“You’re finally here,” Serena sighs, eyes weary as she makes her way toward me. I pull her into my arms, and we stand and hug for several seconds as my sister fake cries into my shoulder. “I’m never having sex again, like ever.”
When we break our hug, she looks in the direction Gracie fled, voice lowered. “Why, Jesus, why did I listen to Thatch when he got all thug love the first time we had sex and was all, “you’re going to have my baby.”