She looks rough. Not that I’m a prince in the morning, but her appearance . . . I wonder if it has anything to do with our tiresome email chain. I know I’m exhausted and overdrawn from dealing with them. I wonder if she’s feeling the same way.
Go in with an open heart.
Larkin is right: I dictate to my siblings, even though I don’t intend to do so. I just want the bickering to end, so that’s what happens. I step in and shut it down. But today, I’m going to strive to address my siblings differently. Who knows, maybe it will help.
“Good morning,” Mom says. “Only took you half an hour to get down here after I told you breakfast was served.”
Mom wasn’t supposed to make breakfast. I was surprised when I walked into the house and smelled my mom’s heavenly pancakes. We were supposed to make them brunch, but I’m not going to complain either, because I’ll never pass up breakfast made by my mom.
“Sorry,” Palmer says while pouring herself a coffee. When her cup is to the brim, she makes her way to the table where Dad and I are sitting, Dad intently working on a coloring page that he’s spent the last two days—from what he’s told me—coloring. When she looks up, she spots me, and immediately she frowns. “What are you . . . ugh, we have that thing, don’t we?”
Cool, calm, and collected.
“You’re on top of it this morning, sis.” I give her a winning smile.
Her eyes narrow. Oooh, don’t poke the bear. Apologize, like Larkin suggested.
“Watch yourself, Ford.” She takes a sip of her coffee, and Dad looks up from his coloring book.
“That had a threatening tone to it,” he says and then motions his colored pencil between us. “What’s going on here?”
Palmer straightens up. “Dad, were you aware that Ford is rebranding without any help from the family?”
She’s going to make it hard on me to apologize; I can tell already.
“I am,” he says, going back to coloring.
“And you’re okay with this?” Palmer asks.
“If he didn’t include you, there must be some sort of reasoning behind it.”
“Here, honey,” Mom says, placing a plate of pancakes in front of Palmer. “Eat up.”
“You know, Palmer, about that,” I say, gearing up for my apology. “I wanted to—”
Slam.
The front door closes and Cooper calls out, “Sorry. The ferry was behind.” He makes his way into the kitchen and takes in Palmer’s scowl and my annoyance at being interrupted. “Breakfast is already served? What did I miss?”
Clearing my throat, I say, “I was actually trying to—”
“Cooper, my beautiful boy, sit down, I’ll get some pancakes,” Mom says while patting Cooper’s cheek.
“Breakfast? I thought we were making you brunch.”
Apparently no one wants me to apologize; that’s fine, I can take Palmer off to the side later. Instead, I focus on keeping the conversation on course today. No fighting, even though the air is feeling thick with sibling tension. We are here for a reason: to plan a party for Mom and Dad. We need to keep it that way. “Mom didn’t give us a chance to make breakfast—beat us to it.”
“As if I wouldn’t feed my babies,” Mom says.
“We appreciate it,” I say. “But do you think you guys could take off for your hike now?”
“Are you kicking us out of our own home?” Dad asks.
“Yes.” I nudge Dad. “Go on, we have things to talk about.”
Dad grumbles something under his breath while packing up his colored pencils. His movements are slower than normal. His hands shakier than what I remember, and as he lifts from his chair, I notice the hitch in his stance, the clutching of the back of his chair. He’s gotten worse.
From the kitchen island, Mom clears her throat, giving us pointed looks. “Before we leave, your dad and I want to remind you that you three still need to go through your rooms and clean them out.”
Palmer drops her fork and turns in her chair. “You were serious about that?”
“Very serious, so it would be really helpful if you please emptied out your rooms. Take what you want to keep and get rid of what you don’t want. But if you can do it in the next week, we would appreciate it.” Mom tacks on her motherly smile. “Thank you, sweet children.” Then, hand in hand, Mom and Dad both leave, Dad leaning on Mom for support.
Well, that did not set the tone I was looking for.