Page 2 of Turnabout Is Fair Cosplay
I put them on the counter and drop a bag of Earl Grey into my mug to accompany the blood orange tea. I’m going to need the caffeine. “How many people are coming today?”
“Oh, just family and a few friends.” Mom’s eyes sparkle.
I’m not buying it for a minute. Through the sliding glass doors of the adjoining family room, I can see Mom’s favorite florist and his two assistants building not only a balloon arch but a Stegosaurus out of carnations, sunflowers, and roses. “A few…hundred?”
“No! Juliet invited just her dearest friends, and of course Ryan’s family is coming.” My sister, the golden child, and her husband can do no wrong since Eaton came on the scene. Theycould invite enough people to fill Petco Park, and Mom would accommodate.
Mom checks her phone. “Portia and Drew’s flight landed an hour ago, and Adam volunteered to get them from the airport. They’ll be here any minute. All of my yoga buddies and of course your father’s partners and their dear ones are coming.” Mom hands me a napkin.
“Oh, is that all?” I wipe my mouth on the sleeve of my robe, just to bug her.
“Unless you ended up inviting some friends from work.”
What friends? I snort but don’t reply. Unlike Mom, I know when I’m being baited.
The kettle whistles, but Mom grabs it before I can. “I’ve been waiting years to be a grandma, missy.” She pours the steaming water into my mug. “Excuse me if I want to celebrate. Until you, Portia, and Adam come to your senses, Eaton is my one and only grandchild. I’m going to enjoy this day to the fullest.”
“And Dad?” I grab a sun hat from the hooks near the fridge.
“Your father would never let me have any fun if all this was just for him, but Pop-Pop is overjoyed to be celebrating his sixtieth with the little Eaton man.”
There’s a tap on the sliding glass door, and a woman dressed in a pink chef’s coat is standing outside. “Mrs. McKinney, we’re ready to set up the cakes and macaron trees, if you’ll point us where.”
“The table by the chrysanthemum T. rex, Angela. Thank you.” Mom waves the caterer to the backyard. “This was such a good idea. Your father really shouldn’t be eating cake all weekend, and this way I’ll be able to send home most of the baked goods with Julie. Eaton needs more fat rolls. He’s losing them far too quickly.”
“I think that’s supposed to happen now that he’s walking.” A couple of taco trucks pull around to the tennis court. “Mom, Portia and Drew’s wedding was smaller than this.”
Mom shudders. “Don’t remind me. Who elopes to Hawaii?”
Portia, my older sister, walks into the kitchen. “Firstborns.” She drops her Louis Vuitton duffel on the floor and a bag of oranges on the kitchen counter. “You got to let it go, Molly.”
Mom screams and quickly scurries over to give Portia a bone-crushing hug. Molly McKinney may be fun size, but she’s strong. The yoga, no doubt.
“Let me look at you. Oh, honey! You’re glowing,” Mom says.
“It’s the neon tangerine dress,” I mutter. Seriously, Portia could direct air traffic with that one.
“How was the flight? Did the ginger help Drew not vomit all over the jetway?” Before Portia can answer, Mom bear-hugs her again. “Why on earth can’t you live in California? Massachusetts is just entirely too far away.”
Drew and Adam walk in with the rest of the luggage, and Mom shrieks again, enveloping both my brother-in-law and brother in hugs and kisses.
“You made it. Did you bring your swimsuits? Was the flight okay, Drew? Traffic?”
I don’t know where Adam inherited his chill, since both our parents are textbook hyper, but he’s definitely the calming presence in the family. “We did make it,” Adam says. “I don’t know why you’re worried about suits when you have a closet full of spares. Traffic was fine. We would have been here sooner, but Portia wanted to stop at a roadside stand.”
“They don’t even have oranges in Boston?” Mom says. “Move back home, and we can plant you a tree of your very own. We’ll get one of those enormous ones in a box that are fully grown and plant it with a crane. You won’t have to wait a minute before you can eat your own oranges.”
Adam hands my mom a pink box and kisses her cheek. “Where’s Pop-Pop?”
“Out golfing. I surprised him this morning with a new set of clubs. He’ll be home any minute.”
“Anything I can do?” Adam asks.
“Yeah.” I hold up the cutglass vase. “You can fill this with flowers.” But that solicits a brief glare from Mom before she turns her attention back to my brother, the baby of the family.
Mom beams at Adam. “Would you go help with the balloon arch? I want it across the pool. And then I need help inflating some of the inner tubes and floats.
“On it.” Adam smiles. “Hey, Bea.” My little brother, younger by two years and taller than me by a good nine inches, gives me a hug.
