Page 137 of Protecting What's Mine
“Why?” Linc asked. “Is it just for the kids?”
She gave him a playful poke. “No. We have champagne waiting for you two.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek and then did the same to Mack.
Gloria Moretta was happy. Down-to-the-bone, swimming-in-the-blood happy. And Mack suddenly, viscerally, wanted to experience that feeling.
“What are we celebrating?” Mack asked.
“You, silly. You saved Leroy Mahoney in front of his sweet grandson performing open heart surgery on the side of a road. Perfect costume, by the way,” Gloria said with a grin. She signaled for Aldo at the grill.
“Oh, I… Well, Linc got me the costume.” Mack felt her cheeks flame.
“Come on,” Gloria grabbed Mack’s hand and towed her toward the front porch of the Craftsman-style house.
There was yet another table and not one, not two, but four bottles of champagne chilling in skull-shaped ice buckets amidst a sea of plastic flutes.
Aldo climbed the steps behind them. He gave Linc a punch on the arm and Mack a trademark hug before tickling his baby under the chin. Then, heedless of the audience, he cupped Gloria’s chin in his big hands and kissed her gently.
Linc playfully covered Mack’s eyes. “If they start taking their clothes off, we’re leaving,” he said.
Kiss complete, sweet moment shared, Aldo turned to face the yard. “Hey, Fun Police,” he called to Ellen. “Give us a whistle, would you?”
Obligingly, Ellen blew her whistle shrilly, and the crowd quieted down.
“Happy Halloween, everyone,” Aldo said, slipping his arm around Gloria.
“Happy Halloween!” everyone shouted back.
“We wanted to take a minute to thank someone very special for her good deeds,” Aldo said.
“Oh my God,” Mack hissed. Linc grinned at her. “You knew?”
“You wouldn’t have come if I told you.”
Gloria’s mother bustled onto the porch and popped open the first bottle of champagne.
“Most of you know Dr. Mackenzie O’Neil,” he said, waving an arm in her direction.
The cheer was rousing and completely embarrassing. She wanted to hide under Linc’s cape, but he held her firmly in place.
“You deserve this, Dreamy. Soak it up,” he whispered.
“You know that Dr. Mack here saved my life. None of this would be here if it weren’t for her,” he said.
“Oh, no,” Mack whispered. Her throat was tightening, eyes watering.
“Try not to blink,” Linc suggested.
She opened her eyes scary wide and stared blankly at the porch light.
“I wouldn’t be here grilling hot dogs with my beautiful wife and two perfect little girls if it weren’t for her. And we had a few other people who wanted to say thank you, too.”
Mrs. Moretta let out a wail and blew her nose in a pumpkin napkin. “Sorry. You can continue,” she howled.
Don’t blink. Don’t blink. Don’t blink.
Another bottle of champagne was popped and poured.
“Oh, crap,” Mack rasped as Dalton and Mr. and Mrs. McDowell—all dressed as the Incredibles—climbed the steps of the porch. Dalton ran over and handed her a drawing of a gigantic tick biting a stick figure boy and then a stick figure with boobs and a huge scar on her face kicking the tick. Mack laughed.
