Page 101 of Look at Her and Die

“Come in,” she replied stiffly, as if talking to a stranger. “Would you like a drink?”

Good host firmly back in place, she gestured for us to follow her.

“I’ll have a beer, and Searcy will have…” I left the question hanging.

“Oh, I’ll just do a beer, too. We’ll make it easy.” She paused. “Do you have any Coors?”

Again with the internal laughing.

My mother would never be caught dead with anything other than a local beer. She didn’t do mediocrity.

“Oh.” My mother paused. “I have some dark beer from a local brewery. Multiple in fact. But no light beer.”

My mother hated carrying a beer at all, and if she was forced to, she was doing it in a way that would satisfy social norms, and probably turn off the beer drinkers. Because most of the time the beers she chose were trash.

Not that I let that stop me.

“That’s perfect,” Searcy continued to sound cheery. “I…oh, hi, Mom! What are you doing here?”

Searcy never skipped a beat.

She was just cruising right along, not letting anything stop her.

“What are you doing here?” her mother asked.

“I’m with my man.” She jerked her finger at me. “Or should I say fiancé? He asked me last month.”

Before anyone could react, she pulled a ring out of her bra and slipped it into place.

I would’ve laughed at everyone’s shocked faces had I not been so surprised.

She’d planned well.

Maximum shock factor in full effect.

“You’re…” Her mother was spoken over by another shrill voice in the room. “You’re what?”

“Tell me you’re joking,” my stepsister, Juliet, groaned.

I went along with it, because why not. “Of course this isn’t a joke. We’ve decided to have a fall wedding. I asked her to marry me a month or so ago, but was waiting for the perfect time to tell everyone.”

“Tell me you’re at least signing a prenup.” Searcy’s mom looked scandalized.

“Oh, that’s probably a good idea,” Harrington said as he came into the room. “Don’t want my brother stealing half your money.”

I rolled my eyes. “Why would I do a thing like that?”

“Doc would never steal my money,” Searcy said fiercely, looking my brother in the eye and telling him with more than just words that she knew I’d never do a thing like that.

Her anger was palpable, and that’s when my stepfather came into the room and said, “Paul, Mara, have you met my daughter yet?”

That’s when I saw the lively—and by lively, I mean practically dead—elderly couple in the corner of the room.

They appeared to be downright seconds from death.

“Oh,” Paul, the man, said. “I don’t believe I have.”

He got up and started walking toward me, holding out his hand to Searcy. “It’s really nice to meet you. Your father has shared so much about you. So you’re a lesbian?”

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