Page 76 of All Yours

“There’s no one else here, darling. A wine list would help that.”

“It’s eleven, and most people here are still in church. Around noon, the after-church crowd will get here, and it’ll get packed.”

“See, she has skills in forethought and planning,” she said to my dad.

So that’s one thing they’ve been saying behind my back.

“Hi, I’m Devin. I’ll be taking care of you today,” a young man approached the table.

“Coffee,” my dad said without preamble.

“A mug of hot water and lemon,” mom ordered.

“Hey, Dev. How are you?” I asked. “Are you off school for winter break yet?”

“No, ma’am,” he replied. “I wish, mid-terms coming up. It’ll be closer to Christmas before we get out. But I’m good. Thanks for asking. What can I get you to drink?”

“Coke, please.”

My mom gasped.

Devin retreated to gather our drinks.

“He’s a senior at Hart Valley High School,” I said, ignoring my mother.

“Soda?” she asked. “Soda isn’t good for you.”

“Yeah. But I wanted one.” I shrugged.

She sighed and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.

“She’s just trying to get a rise out of you,” dad said.

“No. I’m not. I’m simply ordering a beverage. Not everything revolves around you two. That’s why I left.”

“So, we’re getting into this already,” he said.

“Isn’t this why we’re here?” I asked.

“No,” my mother whined. “I haven’t seen my baby in five years. You have no idea what it’s like to not know where your child is. I’ve missed you.” She reached across the table and grabbed my hand.

What was going on? The breath halted in my chest. My hand sat under the grip of her icy fingers, and I fought my instinct to pull away. “What is happening here?” I whispered.

“We realize it’s been a few rough years for you, pumpkin,” my dad said.

“Actually, it’s been a pretty good three years since I’ve been in Hart Valley. The last few weeks after the book and being discovered here, that’s been rough.”

“We are here for you. Let us be here for you. We’re sorry for what you’ve gone through and want to help.”

“You’re what?” I asked, uncertain if I’d heard what she said. The room may have tilted around me.

“We’re sorry,” she repeated. “Yes, we’ve had our differences and our petty squabbles. But we’re here, and we want to be supportive.”

A flash in my periphery caught my eye. I turned and a group of photographers stood on the sidewalk, cameras aimed through the glass windows at us.

“Just ignore them,” Mom said. “Don’t give them anything, and they’ll go away.”

“That’s a bit difficult with Sebastian’s antics.”

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