“Can we go back to talking about Dubai?” I pinch the bridge of my nose to stave off the headache that is most definitely on the way. “Or what about The Bachelorette? Remember when we were all happy watching other people behaving badly? That was fun.”
“That’s the reason you wanted to come here for Thanksgiving, isn’t it?” Phoebe scoffs. “I mean, why else would you choose to spend time with us if it wasn’t going to benefit you in some way? And to think, for half a second, I thought I could count on you to help out down here once we move.”
“Move?” my mother asks. “What do you mean, move? Where are you two going?”
“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” Phoebe says.
“Australia,” Falon says with a thousand-yard stare. “We’re moving to Australia, where they don’t even celebrate this crappy holiday.”
Australia. She might as well have said the moon or Mars.
I thought Phoebe loved it here in Coronado. It crossed my mind that her big news might be moving related, but I just assumed that she and Falon bought a place of their own. What does she want in Australia? Her job is here. Falon’s job is here. Both of their jobs are connected to our father’s business.
I look down to the other end of the table for his reaction. Surely, she would’ve told my dad before announcing this to everyone. She wouldn’t just blindside him like this in front of all of us. There’s a fair amount of perspiration on my dad’s face, and his skin tone is a little ashy, but his expression isn’t one of shock.
“Is this some kind of joke, Phoebe?” My mother’s voice shakes. “I thought you were going to tell us that you finally settled on a wedding date, or maybe that you guys had already eloped. Australia? Are you serious? When?”
“It’s not a joke, Mom,” Phoebe says, suddenly appearing much more sober. “We leave at the end of spring.”
“How is your father supposed to find people to fill your positions in a few months? That’s impossible.”
“We already talked to Carter,” Falon says softly. “A few months ago—”
“A few months?” My mother slaps the table with her napkin and glares at my father. “You’ve known for a few months that they were planning on leaving, and you didn’t think to mention it to me? Is that why you’ve been talking so much about traveling? Were you trying to get me on board so that when my daughter told me she was moving across the globe, I would somehow be OK with it?”
My mother begins to sob. It’s quiet at first. My father and Nana Rosie do their best to calm her down, but it quickly escalates to being dangerously close to a full-out ugly cry. Martin quietly slips back into the chair next to me. I don’t know that he seems any more sober, but he does appear to be drastically more somber.
“All my children have left me.” My mother sobs. “I’ve failed as a mother.”
“Mom, you haven’t failed,” I say. “Phoebe, tell her she hasn’t failed.”
“I knew this was going to happen.” Phoebe shoots a murderous look in my direction. “I told you that my news might be upsetting. That’s why I had this planned down to the last detail, but then you showed up and so did all your drama. This is all your fault.”
“My fault? I didn’t say a word.” I nod toward Martin. “And he wouldn’t have, either, if you didn’t insist on going all Cheech and Chong in the bathroom.”
“What does that mean?” Sarah asks. “What’s a Cheech and Chong?”
Of course she doesn’t know who Cheech and Chong are. She’s one of Forbes’s 30 Under 30, which means she’s basically an infant, albeit a successful infant.
“It means they got high, Sarah,” I snap. “Keep up.”
“Hey, you don’t need to be rude to her,” Smith says defensively. “She’s not the person you’re upset with.”
He’s right. She’s not the person I’m upset with. He is.
“You don’t get to tell me how to act in my own house, buster.” I toss my napkin on the table. “You are on my list.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Smith throws his hands in the air. “I’m not the one making an ass out of myself in front of everyone like your idiot boyfriend.”
“Is that me?” Martin asks.
“Who brought drugs into this house?” My father smacks the table with the palm of his hand like a judge with a gavel. “If there is one thing I will not tolerate, it’s drug use under my roof. Whoever it is might as well go find a hotel room for the night.”