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I rock from foot to foot, ultimately taking a deep breath and pushing the door open.
Poking my head through, I see crowds of people outside on the deck facing the lake and a few handfuls spilled through the center of the home.
Once I accept that it should be okay for me to walk in, I quickly close the door behind me and head for the outside, hoping I’ll be able to find Boyd quickly, or at least someone I’ve met already.
“What are you doing here?”
My head turns at the sharp question, my eyes widening when I see the last person I would expect to be here—although they are neighbors.
Linda walks over to me, her surprise at seeing me etched in almost every frown line on her face.
Her expression demands an explanation, but my own surprise at seeing her has me wanting to retreat inside of myself, my normally extroverted persona identifying Linda as a real threat and scrambling to hide.
If only this were one of those moments when I was able to find just the right thing to say.
“I…well…um…” I stumble over my words, unable to settle on anything solid.
“Oh, Ruby! There you are.”
The sweet voice of Patty Mitchell behind Linda helps ease my discomfort significantly, but I probably still look flustered as I try to give Mrs. Mitchell a smile.
“I’d wondered when you would get here, especially when Linda showed up without you.”
The smile on her face looks genuine and welcoming, but my eyes flit to Linda’s briefly. Hers have remained narrowed, but the loathing rolling off her body has dropped a notch or two.
“Oh, I just…thought I’d walk over.”
“Well, we just set out all the food, so come on in. Boyd’s helping his dad with something boat-related that I do not understand”—she laughs—“but he should be back soon.”
Patty waves a hand out to encourage me to head outside before scurrying off, likely to handle more hostess duties.
Linda stays standing next to me, her arms crossed, and it takes everything in me not to skitter away from her. But she’s Ken’s wife, and even though she clearly hates me for whatever reason, I’m not trying to get into a war with her.
“How are you, Linda?” I ask, once Boyd’s mom is out of earshot.
Her eyes scan up and down, like she’s expecting me to be covered in dirt or fleas or something. I don’t know what she’s expecting, really.
“Fine.”
And then she turns and stalks off in the same direction Patty went, leaving me to stand alone in the entry.
I haven’t interacted with Linda since my arrival on Saturday. She made it pretty clear that she didn’t want to talk to me, and that she didn’t want me talking to her kids, either.
Even though they’re my little brothers.
Technically.
Elliott and Nathan Bellows are ten and eight years old. They have Linda’s dark brown hair and tan features. By all accounts, nobody would ever guess we were related.
Except for their eyes.
They have the same baby blue eyes that I do.
It was the one good thing my father gave me, and it makes me happy knowing I share it with the two boys, even if I’m the only one who enjoys it.
I take a few moments to collect myself before walking through the house and out to the deck behind the Mitchell house. My eyes survey the crowds of people, wondering if I misunderstood Boyd’s text somehow.
He said family and a few neighbors, but there are easily fifty people in the yard enjoying a massive spread of breakfast goods, mingling on the deck and the dock, and playing bag toss in the grass.
