Page 30 of A Midsummer Night's Ghost

“The minute Grandma moved in with you.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“She covered my teal and gold powder room walls with shiplap and a sign that says, ‘I don’t remember eating corn’.”

I blanched. “Oh my God. Mom. That’s…”

“Horrifying. I know.”

Potty humor in home decor is not my thing. Or my mom’s. Apparently Nancy liked a good poop joke and now I felt really bad for my mother and was on the verge of offering her anything she wanted, including hosting my sister and her gaggle of children.

I was not going to give in, I was not going to give in…

“When is Jen coming?” I asked, feeling myself already giving in.

“In three weeks.”

“She’s bringing all the kids?”

Stay strong, stay strong.

“You say that like she has twelve offspring.”

“She has five. That’s a lot.”

“Okay, it is kind of a lot of kids,” my mother acknowledged. “I had to stop at two.”

To be honest, I had often thought I had reason to be grateful she’d even had two. It much more tracked with her personality to have stopped after my sister, realizing motherhood wasn’t exactly a natural fit for her.

“Jen doesn’t have a career like you did. Do.”

“True. But of course she’s bringing all her kids. What would she do with them if she didn’t?” My mother looked at me like I was suggesting she leave half her kids home alone with Alexa as a babysitter.

“I thought maybe she would just bring the baby and leave the other kids at home with her husband. You know, their father.”

“She’s not going to pick some of her children to bring and not the others.”

“Is Doug coming too then?” That was seven humans. There was no way ten of us could fit in this house for more than three hours.

My mother shook her head. “No. He’s staying at home in Dallas because he has to work. She can’t leave the kids with him. Think, Bailey, good grief.”

Well, this was fun.

I decided I was ready to read the autopsy report once she left.

That couldn’t possibly be any more annoying than this.

“They can’t stay here. I’m sorry. Even without Doug, there are still six of them, Mom. They’re at max capacity for a minivan.”

“You don’t have a minivan.”

I tried to pick at the wallpaper border again and gave up when it stayed one hundred percent stuck. It was feeling like a metaphor for this conversation. I climbed down off of the ladder. “I don’t even have a guest room set up. I’m being totally serious. They can’t stay here. Jake is already sharing the house with Grandma.”

And Ryan. And any other ghost who decided to pop in for a visit.

Add a newborn and four rowdy kids to that, plus my chirpy sister, and it would be total chaos.

“Jake knew what he was getting into.”

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