Page 21 of What Happened Last Night

Saturday morning, I drove the three hours home to my parents’ place in Bend for my mother’s birthday. My childhood home was only a few minutes away from the family B and B, which was a vacation house passed down through my father’s family. My grandparents had bought the century-old building, but after a few years, they didn’t want to do the upkeep on it anymore. Dad and Mom were newly married at the time, so my grandparents had gifted the house to Dad as-is. My parents had renovated it and opened the B and B as the family business.

It was called the McQueen Inn. Mom had wanted to call it the Come On Inn, and if you brought up the topic, she’d still argue that it was a good idea.

I passed the inn on my way home, noting the overgrown lawn and the pretty gables. There were two cars parked in front, which meant we had guests.

There were cars in front of my parents’ place, too, filling the driveway and parked on the street. My three brothers were already here.

The first brother I saw was Tanner, the oldest and the biggest. He flung open the front door of the house as I got out of my car, barrelled down the steps, and picked me up over one shoulder. “Luna’s here!” he bellowed.

I squeaked as he picked me up, and then I gripped his shirt, holding on as he hauled me into the house. I wasn’t wearing a work dress today—I was wearing leggings, a tee, and sneakers. I pounded my fists on my brother’s muscly bubble butt, protesting as he carried me down the hall toward the kitchen.

I glimpsed my second brother, Mack, from my upside-down position. “Mom’s flowers are in the car!” I shouted at him. “Go get them!”

I heard Mom’s voice. “Tanner, put your sister down.”

“Do I have to?” Tanner asked, teasing.

I punched him again. “I’ll throw up on you.”

“Ugh.” He put me down and I steadied myself. Dad was at the kitchen counter, putting marinated meat on a plate to take to the barbecue. Mom was wearing work pants and a golf shirt, her hair in a practical ponytail. She kissed my cheek. “I hope you’re ready to work,” was her greeting.

Mom had her own tradition on her birthday and Mother’s Day. Gifts were not allowed. Instead, since—in her words—she had three strapping sons, plus me, our best gift was to show up and do work for her for an afternoon. We could get out of our chores, she said, when we finally got married. So far, none of us had.

“Mom, these are from Luna,” Mack said, coming into the kitchen behind me with the flowers I hadn’t been able to grab from my car. I regularly broke the no-gifts rule with flowers for Mom, and she allowed it, as long as I still did chores.

“Thank you, honey,” Mom said to me, then raised her voice. “Jay, get in here.”

“Hi, Dad,” I said.

Dad dried his hands after washing them in the sink and gave me a big hug. “Hi, pumpkin.”

My third brother, Jay, wandered in, eating from a bowl of chips. “Here,” he called out, as if he was in class.

Lined up together, my brothers all looked startlingly similar. Each was only eighteen months apart. Tanner was over six feet and beefy—he’d been a football player in high school, like Dad. He now managed a sporting goods store. Mack had darker hair than Tanner and had grown a mustache-and-goatee combo that counteracted the jock look. He ran a golf course, which was an excuse for him to golf most of the time. Jay was slimmer than his brothers—incredible, because he ate more than a small European country—and wore his hair a few inches too long, something his brothers teased him relentlessly about. Jay was a ski instructor in winter and hiking guide in summer, with occasional work at Mack’s golf course, where he mostly emptied the snack bar and picked up women.

And then there was me, the only girl. I’d come along three years after Jay, when my parents already had three rambunctious toddler boys to look after. I’d once asked my mother—after a few glasses of wine—what she’d been thinking when she had me. Her answer was, “Oh, honey, I was thinking that your father looked sexy and I wanted to get into his pants.” It wasn’t much of an origin story.

“Okay.” My mother clapped her hands. My brothers stood at attention, though the effort was reluctant. Tanner’s gaze wandered out the window and Jay didn’t stop eating. “Here are the tasks. Tanner, haul the garbage bags I’ve filled from the garage and take them to the dump.”

“Mom!” Tanner sounded like he was thirteen, even though he was heading for forty.

“No arguing,” Mom said. “Mack, go mow the lawn at the inn and pull the weeds growing along the driveway. Then mow the lawn here. When I say mow, I mean front and back. I will be checking your work.”

Mack shrugged. He managed a golf course. Mowing lawns was in his blood. “Easy,” he said.

“Jay,” Mom said, “You’re power washing the back deck.”

Jay pumped his fist. “Yes! Power washer!”

“Then take the washer to the inn and do the porch and deck there,” Mom continued. “Do not break the washer. Put it away when you’re done. And do not spray your brothers because it could harm them. Is that clear?”

“You suck, Jay,” Tanner said.

“You suck,” Jay shot back. “You have to haul garbage.”

Mom raised a hand. “Only because Tanner has a truck.”

“Mom, make Jay take my truck,” Tanner complained. “Then I’ll use the power washer.”

---