Page 52 of All Yours

“Thank you so much for inviting me. Your home is lovely,” Sloane said as I slid an arm around her.

“I’ve been trying to get my son to bring you over for weeks, but it takes a national holiday. Come on in, and let’s get you a drink,” she said.

Patty grabbed Sloane by the hand and pulled her toward the living room.

“Wine?” Esther offered.

“Oh, I probably shouldn’t,” Sloane sputtered.

“Sure, you should,” Patty said.

I snuck away through the house into the dining room before sticking my head into the kitchen to see my grandmother cooking away.

“Bubbe,” I called.

“My sweet Jonah Bear,” she smiled, looking up from the stove. Her short snow-white hair was in tight curls all over her head, and she wore the same faded mauve apron that she’d worn for years. “Come, give Bubbe a kiss.”

“What are you doing in here all alone?” I asked, scooping her tiny body into a hug.

“Someone had to not let the food burn,” she said, releasing me and going back to the bubbling pots on the stove. “Did you bring the girl?”

“Sloane? Yes, ma’am.”

“Good, it’s all your mom can talk about. You and the little blonde girl.”

“You want to come meet her? I left her out there with mom and the coven.”

“Don’t call your cousins that,” she said, waving a wooden spoon at me. Even at 97 and less than half my size, that wooden spoon put the fear of The Almighty in me. I was one of two of her grandsons in a sea of granddaughters, and she loved me dearly, but Bubbe didn’t play. None of the women in my family did. And I loved all of them.

I turned back to the dining room, needing to rescue Sloane from what was surely an inquisition.

“So, when did you meet Jonah?” Patty asked. Sloane would break up with me after all this.

“Forget Jonah if you know all these hot tennis players. Why aren’t you dating any of them?” Darlene asked.

“Shh. Don’t give her any ideas,” I said. They’d seated Sloane in the middle of my cousins, three aunts, my mom, and Uncle Matt. Great, more people.

“Well, we certainly can’t have her wasting her time with you,” Patty called

I scratched the side of my face with my middle finger, sending the coven into howls of laughter.

“Now, you stop that,” my mom scolded, standing. “We need to finish helping Bubbe with dinner. Come on.”

“But we want to talk to Sloane,” Patty protested.

“We’ll talk over dinner,” my mom said. She came up alongside me and pinched my cheek.

I let out a groan of protest. “Where’s dad?”

“He’s back in the den with the other men. He never wants to be social.”

That was code for hiding from my cousin’s. “I want you to meet my dad,” I said, holding out a hand to Sloane.

She grabbed my hand, and I led her into the hallway.

“Did you grow up in this house?” she asked, pulling me to a stop, her eyes scanning the framed photos along the wall. A cornucopia of faces throughout time stared back at us. “Is that you?” Sloane asked, pointing at a framed baby photo.

“Yes, that’s me as a baby.”

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