“I’ve had my fair share of suitors over the years.”
“Oh, no doubt,” Eli says, warming his hands in front of the fire. “Wonder why they didn’t stick?” Brenden smirks and sips out of his cup, his eyes screaming, ‘get her.’
“Well, suitors aren’t spaghetti are they, Eli?”
“No, they definitely aren’t, and I’m sure you enlightened them on exactly why they didn’t suit your lifestyle, which is doing what again?”
“I’m into…” Gretchen wiggles in the recliner, “art.”
“Art. Historical? Modern? Are you a Monet fan or more of a Pollock type of woman? Who painted the last piece you bought?”
“I’m actually…I paint.”
“Oil or acrylic?”
“A bit of both…” she says, darting her eyes around.
“Odd. Many painters stick to one type so they can hone in on their craft.”
“Well, I’m only dabbling at the moment.”
“Ah, dabbling.”
“And…I, uh, garden too.”
“I can tell by the tan,” Eli says, eyeing her paste white skin. He presses in by walking over to the recliner, his eyes intent as he kneels in front of her chair. “Since you and I seem to have so much spare time, maybe I’ll come for a visit. I can check out your paintings.”
“Well, I don’t have any to show you right now, per se.”
Eli nods as if in perfect understanding as he takes her Allen-sized hand in his, his eyes softening. “Well, when you’ve finished, I’d be honored if you would show me one.”
“Don’t be absurd,” she says, darting her eyes around to each of us before he recaptures her gaze with his voodoo icicle eyes. “Why would you come all that way just to see my painting?”
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, right? Art, much like people, can be largely misunderstood unless the right person comes along to decipher it. Even then, it’s such a personal thing, isn’t it? I have faith it will be worth the trip.”
My frigid aunt visibly softens where she sits as I shake my head, barely managing to hide my smile. I should have known Eli would level her with his wit before reducing her to a pliable puddle of insecurity only to build her back up.
His voice is the perfect mix of stern and coaxing when he speaks again. “What do you say we exchange gifts, now?”
When my aunt nods, seemingly confused that for the first time in the history of ever, she’s lost control of the room, Eli’s lips lift in victory, and he winks at me as he stands.
My wretched Aunt Gretchen left just after lunch, but not before giving Eli her address. My mother left lipstick marks on both of Eli’s cheeks as she drove away.
Tag team, my ass.
The smooth bastard.
Ruby down. Serena to go.
Thatch and I lug the large plastic container we were asked to retrieve down the stairs before setting it in front of the tree. Gracie claps her hands together with glee as Ruby walks in from the kitchen, setting down a silver tray lined with bright red drinks, cherry stabbed swords hooked on the rim of the glasses.
“Kiddie cocktails,” Gracie informs me. “It’s just 7up and cherries, but it’s sooo good.” She lifts a plastic cup to me. “Try it.”
I take a sip of the offered drink. “Pretty good.”
“It’s tradition,” Serena chimes in as Allen snoozes in his recliner with Peyton, ears on the table next to him. Brenden, who opted out of decorating, sits on the love seat, flipping through the channels. Whitney clicks on the tree lights, the sun setting behind her where she stands in front of the windows, the amber light filtering through her hair, making it impossible to look away. Smiling, she glances over at me, and it’s like a shot to the chest. I grin back, but she breaks our gaze.
Gracie rattles with excitement next to me waiting on Ruby’s permission to start as I stand ready with a ladder.
“Now, Grammy?”
“One second,” Whitney says, walking over to where a small speaker-sized Alexa sits on a nearby table before bending and whispering a command. A second later, a rift of country blares through all speakers in the house, and Brenden jumps in his seat while Allen and Peyton remain comatose. Brenden’s protest rings out over the roar of the music. “Ah, come on!”
Every one of the Collins women animates in recognition of the song.
“You two remember this?” Ruby asks, eyeing Whitney and Serena, clearly taken aback.
“Of course,” they speak up simultaneously.