I bite back a laugh. “What’s the favor?”
“I’ve decided to have a birthday party. A big one. It’s the big eight-oh, you know.”
“I do know.”
I actually do. Grandma’s birthday is the only one I can remember without the calendar reminder.
“You’ll come, of course?” Her voice is hopeful.
Shit.
“I can’t have it without my favorite grandchild there.” She’s switched to guilt.
“You do know that it’s tacky to tell me I’m your favorite when you have three grandchildren?”
“We both know that Ashley and Brian are assholes.”
“I think we’re supposed to pretend to like them anyway.”
“Well. I can’t have a birthday party with only the assholes.”
I would laugh if it weren’t for the swiftly mounting dread.
“Do you think you could take some time off work?” she asks.
“I was fired.”
“Oh, perfect! I mean, I’m sorry,” she adds hurriedly.
“You know I didn’t like that job anyway.”
“I retract my apology. Congratulations on being fired.”
“Thanks.”
“Since you have so much free time, maybe a longer visit? A week? I’ve already talked to your mom, and she says you can stay with them as long as you want.”
“A week?” I shriek the words so loudly that a passing woman looks very startled.
“Well, this is all very last-minute, and your mom has that broken leg … we would need some help getting everything together. I’d let you stay with me, but there’s no room, of course.”
The prospect of spending one day in my hometown is bad enough, but an entire week?
Seven days in the place where I’d once been successful, and married, and had lots of friends who were jealous of my （fake） happiness.
It would be the opposite of a triumphant return. Five years later, I stumble back in, an unemployed divorcée with no friends. I can’t even tell people I’ve published three books. I shiver as the produce mister turns on, spraying my arm as well as the cabbage. I inch away from it.
“Unless you’d rather bring Nathan and stay in a hotel? I’m sure your mom would understand you staying in a hotel if you bring him.”
I imagine, briefly, inviting Nathan to come to Plumpton, Texas, with me. I wonder whether that would be the thing that finally gets him to dump me. Visiting the scene of the crime is probably a bridge too far, even for him.
“You can say no.” I hear a clinking sound on the other end, like ice cubes against glass. “I know you must be very busy…”
“You know I’m never busy.”
“It’s so weird how you always say that. People your age are usually so proud of being busy. One of the girls from church has told me at least a hundred times about how busy she is. I’m starting to wonder if it’s a cry for help.”
“You talked to Dad too? About me staying with them?”
“Of course not; I try to avoid having conversations with your father whenever possible. But Kathleen talked to him. We wouldn’t just spring you on him.”
“He never did like surprises.”
“No. Does that mean you’ll come?”
I stare at the butternut squash and consider smashing it against my own head.
“Lucy?”
I blink. “Sorry. Squash.”
“Don’t buy squash, you’re coming to Texas!”
“Oh my god.”
“Right?” She’s hopeful again.
I sigh. I can’t say no to the only family member I like. One of the only people I like. “Yes. I’m coming to Texas.”
A soft voice, a voice I always try to ignore, whispers in my ear, “Let’s kill—”
I grip the phone tighter and will the voice away.
“Oh, wonderful! Do you think Nathan will want to come?”
I take a shaky breath. The voice seems to be gone. “I don’t think he can get off work.”
“Oh, sure. Well, I’ll just buy you a plane ticket then. You okay to leave this weekend?”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Nonsense, I want to. I’ll be dead soon anyway.”
We might all be dead soon, but that seems like too much to hope for.
“Sure, this weekend.” I reconsider her last statement. “Wait, are you sick?”
“Not that I know of, but my friends are dropping like flies, so really, it’s only a matter of time.”