Page 67 of The Love Scam
“Thank God,” she was babbling, and her lipstick was perfect, which was kind of amazing. “Oh thank God. Look at you, so handsome. I haven’t seen you since you were babies, when I made your idiot father— When I was at the wedding.”
Blake was gently trying to get free of her lemony embrace. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’m missing b-ball practice for this,” Rake reminded everyone.
After a decade, their fuzzy
(what’s that sweater made of? wool? very soft steel wool?)
grandmother let them go, observing, “You’re surprised.”
“People aren’t usually this happy to meet us,” Blake said. Rake rolled his eyes, because he knew what was coming. “Rake is terrible.”
He flipped him off, low and quick, so the other two wouldn’t see. “Blow it out your butt sideways, Blake. Um, Mom, are you…” Then he took another look and went over and put his arm around her. “Um, I know you guys were technically married, and it’s okay to be sad. And it’s okay not to be sad. Right, Blake? That’s okay?” Blake was way better with the whole “this is socially acceptable, that is not” thing.
“Of course.”
“See, Mom? Blake’s all ‘it’s cool.’ So if you’re sad—”
“I am fine, Rake.” Then to their—this would take some getting used to—grandmother: “Thank you. Mrs. Tarbell—”
“Ruth, darling.”
“—was telling me about your father’s will. It seems…” She paused, took a breath. Let it out slowly. “It seems he left us some money.”
“Oh.” Blake looked cautiously hopeful, and it wasn’t hard to figure out why: Blake balanced the family checkbook, and they both knew any amount of money would be great. Their mom not only worked hard; she wouldn’t let either of them get jobs to help. If their newly dead old man left them a few hundred bucks, that was great. More? That’d be more great.
“Look, you don’t expect us to cry or anything, right?” Rake said to his, err, grandma. He stuck to his mom’s side like a sweaty barnacle. “I mean, we get how you’d be upset, but we’re kind of not.”Okay, maybe that’s a little heartless. Try again.“Because he never visited. We didn’t know him. I mean, we’re sorry for you, Mrs. Tar—”
“Please don’t call me that,” she interrupted. She didn’t sound mad or anything, which was good. “Ruth, if you like. Nonna, if you want to know my preference.”
“Italian for grandmother,” Blake spoke up. Rake instantly decided to learn Italian so that stupid Blake couldn’t show him up in front of his new grandma again.
Nonna Tarbell gave Blake a great big smile. “Clever, clever boy.”
Rake managed not to roll his eyes. “Oh, gross.”
“God, you’re both his very image.” Then—No!—Nonna’s eyes got brighter. Or just wetter. Please let it be allergies! No tears! No little old ladies crying in their kitchen! Luckily, she recovered, which is when Rake started to like her. She never lost her smile, either; it seemed she really was happy to meet them. Rake was old enough to know that not everyone had a positive reaction to the news that they had bastard grandchildren. “I’m told you have your mother’s brains.” Pause. Her smile got even bigger. “Thank the Lord.”
“Yep, praise Jesus and all that…” Grandmas were usually religious, right? Ugh, she wasn’t going to insist they go tochurch while she was in town, was she? Their mother would shit. “So what’d he leave us?”
Their mother gave him a look. “Rake.”Ulp. Time to hand off the rest of the chitchat to Blake.
Then (amazing! miraculous! a dead dad, a live grandmother, outracing Blake, Blake sticking up for him—what a day!) Blake actually took his side.
“It’s a fair question, Mom. Nonna wouldn’t have come all this way for no good reason.”
“Everything” was the stunned response. “He left you everything.”
Thirty-eight
“And that was the end of our money problems,” Rake finished, still musing in that calm, quiet tone. “But my mom and Nonna think it was the start of all our other problems. We’re not married.”
“What?” As if his tone wasn’t unnerving enough, Rake was kind of all over the place with his storytelling. Odd to feel chilled in the Venice sunshine, while happy tourists drifted around them, hailing gondolas and vaporettos to hurry off somewhere else. Delaney, who usually liked Italy, wanted very much to be hurrying off somewhere else.
“We’re confirmed bachelors. And if we were women, people would say we’re sluts. My mom has a huge problem with it, and the nuclear option does, too. Which is asinine.”
“It is?”Wow, you’re definitely holding up your end, conversationwise! Double thumbs-up!
