Page 24 of Sweet and Salty

I plaster a smile on my face before I step out of the car in my bright floral sundress. Dress the part you want to play, that’s what Ma always said.

I pause one step from my car door, one thought nibbling at the corners of my mind.

Did I just tell Chris that Jesse and I are dating?

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Laura

Wearingthis smile feels like wearing high heels that are a size too small.

“Hi, Mom!” I walk toward her and accept her embrace.

She gives me a little extra squeeze, like she knows exactly what I’ve been thinking. “You okay, hon?” Her voice is soft.

“Of course.” It’s a little bright, but she lets it slide.

She takes my hand. “You look gorgeous as always. Come inside. Frannie’s here, and so is little Davey.”

Thank the gods. Nephew time means I won’t have to be as on. “Perfect.” I rub my palms together in mock glee. “He owes me after making me topple the Jenga tower last time.”

“No, I don’t!” Davey, the little five-year-old fireball, makes a beeline for me, jumping off the porch so I have to catch him.

This is exactly what I need. Soft hair and the kind of fierce love you only find in kids. My jaw finally starts to unlatch and the memory of my conversation with Chris recedes into the back of my mind.

“Davey!” Mom admonishes. “No jumping. What if Laura dropped you?”

“Auntie Laura never drops me.” Davey wraps his thin arms tightly around my neck and squeezes nearly hard enough to cut off my air supply. “She’s the bestest auntie there is.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Frannie steps onto the porch as well, a bottle of beer dangling from one hand. “Hi, Laura. You look great.”

“So do you.” Frannie always looks great. Today, she’s in a short-sleeved white V-neck cotton top that shows off her toned arms, and she has on dark green khakis with a red polka dot bandana holding back her mane of dark brown hair. If there were a photo of a modern day Rosie the Riveter, that would be Frannie. “I didn’t know you were in town. Rory said maybe, but I never trust him.”

“Daddy never lies,” Davey says solemnly.

“That’s what you think.” Frannie shakes her head. “I’ve got to fly out again tomorrow, but I’ll be back next week. Hopefully.” That means it’s highly unlikely. If Frannie stays in one place longer than two months, I haven’t yet heard of it.

“Are you coming to Daisy Gustavson’s wedding? The whole town’s invited.” Mom’s voice sounds like a plea. She hates having her kids strewn all over the country, and Frannie’s mobile job makes her an easier target than Bobby, who’s tied to the LA Slingshots. Plus, I think Mom finds it reassuring that she can see where Bobby is in the world merely by checking the hockey team’s website. No such luck with Fran.

A shadow passes over Frannie’s face, but she tosses her hair again. “We’ll see.”

I swing Davey to my hip and make my way up the stairs. He’s almost too big for it, but not yet, and I’m not ready to give up on carrying him. There’s something about holding a small human that gives me all sorts of warm fuzzies.

“We’re having tacos tonight,” he says solemnly, then leans closer to my ear. “Grams let me make the wacky moly.”

“That sounds delicious,” I whisper back. “Wacky moly is my favorite.”

Sage as an ancient mariner, he nods his head, his dark brown curls bobbing up and down. Rory needs to take him for a haircut, but he probably hasn’t had time. I’ll offer after dessert tonight. “Grams says it’s all about the avocados.”

“That’s why Grams is the smartest.” I cross the threshold of our childhood home, ignoring the crushing wave of memories, and set him down on the rainbow-colored welcome mat.

“She is, but you make the best cookies.”

“Smart kid, buttering up your auntie. Lucky for you, I brought these.” I reach into my handbag and pull out a cellophane bag tied with a bright red-and-blue ribbon. “Chocolate chip. Goes great with tacos.”

Davey’s eyes widen. He takes the bag then sprints down the hall whooping like he’s cheering for the home team.

“You spoil him,” Mom says, wrapping an arm around my waist.

---