Page 25 of Finding Home

“Clayton? I see from the blush on your cheeks he has a face that matches that ‘hot guy’ voice.”

“Back to work.” She wagged her finger.

Around six, Elle ended her workday and changed to head to the VFW. Smoothing her sleek low ponytail and throwing on a denim jacket over her mint-green sundress, she stepped into the cool evening. Yesterday’s thunderstorm had popped the humidity bubble that had engulfed Perry for the first few days of her trip.

The cooler weather had been perfect for this morning’s run with Clayton at the Silver Lake Outlet Trail. After their run, they grabbed to-go breakfast at Cassie’s Corner Café. Sitting at the table in the Little Red Barn, Elle spooned up her yogurt parfait, while Clayton ate his breakfast burrito. Comfortable silence and laughter over Fitz’s blatant begging for food flowed between them.

Smiling at the memory, Elle pulled into the VFW’s parking lot. The red trimmed brown building stood on Washington Street, behind Daryl’s Pizzeria. The fragrance of pizza elicited memories of slices with friends, schooling Tobey at pinball, andUncle Pete raising a glass of Pepsi in celebration of one of her Academic Bowl wins.

Memories flooded her senses as she walked into the VFW. The coo of her mom’s voice coaxing her to smile for photos with Santa, the smell of fish fry dinners, and the feel of dad’s rough hands twirling her across the dance floor during Uncle Pete’s wedding. The VFW banquet room had been the epicenter of so many milestones for her first eighteen years of life.

One of the last big events she’d had here was her high school graduation party. Blue and yellow balloons, an ode to the school’s colors, tied to chairs and tables lined with streamers had filled the banquet room. It wasn’t the intimate pizza party at Daryl’s with her family and her two best friends that she wanted, but her mom had pushed. Well, Jamie, her mom’s boyfriend at the time, insisted saying what Elle wanted was boring. If it was between Jamie or Elle, her mom picked Jamie…Every time.

“Eleanor!” Uncle Pete called, his big hands waving.

Elle slipped into the bar’s seating area. High-top tables surrounded the two dartboards, providing the perfect view of tonight’s action.

“Hope you haven’t eaten. We ordered a bunch of wings,” he said.

“Don’t you own a pair of jeans? That sundress is a little fancy for VFW darts,” Janet, who was dressed in jeans and a floral top, tutted.

“No such thing as too fancy for the VFW,” Elle quipped.

“Eleanor! You’re here,” Jerome’s deep voice boomed as he picked her up in a swinging hug.

The relentless affection was the love language of each member of her little family. There were hugs, kisses, squeezes, and full-body clenches with every greeting, goodbye, and in-between moments. Elle tried to melt into them, fighting her natural impulse to pull away.

“Bear! We talked about this, stop manhandling people,” Tobey scolded, but replaced his fiancé’s arms with his own, drawing Elle close to his firm chest.

“I’ll manhandle you later,” he said with a suggestive wink.

“Not ‘til you’re married,” Pete and Janet warned in unison.

“You look so fancy, Lady Eleanor,” Jerome said, ignoring his parents-to-be and twisting his finger for her to twirl.

Shrugging, she complied catching an “I told you so” look from Janet as she spun. “Not as fancy as you. Is that a team shirt?” she awed at the navyTeam Paw PatrolT-shirt featuring a dog and cat with backwards baseball caps. “Tobey, where’s your team shirt?” She pointed at Tobey’s plain T-shirt.

“Dad and I just wear black shirts. It’s our vibe, we’re not so in your face.” Tobey flicked the end of Jerome’s nose. “We are channeling our inner Johnny Cash. We’re Team Walk the Line.”

“I want team shirts, but this one won’t sign off,” Pete grumbled, tussling Tobey’s hair as if he was still a little boy instead of a grown-ass man.

“Team T-shirts just distracts from our can’t lose strategy.” Tobey smirked.

“What’s that?”

“Hit the bull’s-eye,” Tobey and Pete hooted jointly. Their over-the-top high five causing everyone else to roll their eyes.

“It’s the same strategy Churchill had in WWII. Don’t lose,” Janet snarked.

“Nice historical burn, mom.” Jerome fist bumped Janet, whose eyes brimmed with tears.

“Is it the first time he’s called her mom?”Elle turned to her cousin and uncle, who were shaking their heads. “Yep, we’re going to need a lot of tissues for this wedding. She’s going to be in a puddle on Saturday.”

“Just like the Wicked Witch of Western New York that she is,” Jerome teased, placing a kiss atop Janet’s head.

“The moment is over.” Janet pushed him away.

“Do they do this a lot?” Elle asked, her eyebrow cocked.

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