Page 30 of A Very Merry Matchup
The moment we step inside, Pinky Collar greets us with the chewed-up gnome in her mouth. The one I’ve already had several discussions with her about not chewing.
I am so tired of stubborn.
“Hey,” I say, separating PC from her newest obsession and scooping her into my arms. Her little tongue and teeth nip at my chin. “I’m about to send you back to the orphanage.”
“Sure you are,” says Ivy, removing her snowy boots.
“I am. I mean it. She’s the worst. Aren’t you, PC? You are the absolute worst.” She wiggles and peppers my face with razor-sharp kisses as I nuzzle her back. Man, she’s so stinking cute.
“Oh good, you’re back. Thanks for taking care of the baskets.” Mom walks out of the kitchen as Hamish prances next to her trying to snag the towel dangling from her hands. The second he spots Ivy, he barrels toward her.
“About time you noticed me,” says Ivy, crouching down to love on Hamish with rubs and pats.
“Is Dad home with Nana yet?” I manage to remove my snowy boots while Pinky squirms in my arms.
“Just got here,” Mom says. “She’s getting settled upstairs. There’s, uh... something we need to talk about before you see her though.”
“Everything okay?” I know Nana had some sort of episode a few weeks ago, but I thought everything had resolved and she was back to her usual spitfire self.
Mom squeezes the dish towel like she’s wringing a chicken’s neck while we hang our coats on the coat rack by the front door. “Your father and I didn’t want to alarm anybody, what with it being Christmas and all, but um... no, truth is, Nana isn’t doing so well.”
I lower Pinky Collar to the floor. Oh, is that the truth, huh? Because I’m pretty sure the truth is I’ve never met a worse liar than my mom. If the dish towel hadn’t already given her away, the fact she can’t meet a single one of us in the eye—including the dogs—tells me every word coming out of her mouth is hogwash.
But why? What’s she up to?
“We honestly weren’t even sure she’d be strong enough to visit this Christmas,” Mom continues, her knuckles turning white from her death grip on the dish towel. “But when she heard about Beau’s upcoming engagement, which I may have accidentally let slip the other day, she insisted Rob come and get her. She was so excited to meet you, Ivy, and well... we just haven’t had the heart to tell her you two aren’t really together. Especially since this could be... her last Christmas.”
Okay, let’s not get too dramatic here, Mom. The sigh was a little much at the end.
Ivy straightens from petting Hamish. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“Right. Well...” Mom’s eyes dart to the ceiling, then to the Christmas tree. The dish towel. Back to the ceiling. “Rob and I were thinking it might be better to let her keep thinking you two are really engaged.”
“You want us to lie?” Ivy’s eyebrows bunch together.
“Not lie. No.” Mom’s left eye is twitching faster than Pinky Collar’s tail is wagging. “Just delay the truth a little.”Twitch twitch twitch.“She’s so worn out from all her travels today, I’d hate to give her such a big blow right after getting here.”
I rub my palm over my mouth. All her travels? Nana lives twenty-two miles away.
“You don’t mind pretending to be engaged when you go up to see her, do you? Just for this evening?” Mom’s going to need a new dish towel if this goes on much longer.
“Don’t worry, Mom. Ivy and I are great at pretending. Isn’t that right, Ivy?”
Ivy ignores my wink. “Maybe we should just let her rest this evening. Straighten things out in the morning.”
“No, no.” Mom and Hamish start playing tug-of-war with the dish towel. “She really wants to see you two.Upstairs. In her bedroom. Right now. She specifically said so. You should get up there. Just remember that you’re engaged.”
Mom lets Hamish win the dish towel so she can shoo Ivy and me up the stairs. “Hurry. No time like the present.”
Ivy’s already giving me awhat’s everyone up to?look when we reach the spare bedroom reserved for Nana anytime she stays the night. I give Ivy my bestwhat could you possibly suspect from an innocent family like mine?look back as I knock on the door. “Nana? You awake?”
The most pathetic and weakest “Come in, my child,” I’ve ever heard in my life answers the knock. I press my lips together. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to get through this.My child?
“Closer, closer,” Nana’s frail voice says as her hand beckons us to the full-sized bed covered in a blue-and-white quilt that I’m pretty sure came from her own needlework several years ago. A lamp on the dresser reveals her petite form beneath the covers. Her long silver hair is braided and wrapped in its usual coil around the top of her head. “Is this the one? Your beloved fiancée?”
I peek at Ivy. There’s no way she’s buying this. But until she calls foul, I guess I’ll keep playing along. I rest my hand on Ivy’s lower back as we step next to the bed. “This is Ivy, Nana.”
Ivy reaches down for Nana’s hand. “So nice to meet you, ma’am.”
