“Hey!” I whip around and fix him with my eyes. “Those are fighting words.”
“And what we lack in talent, we make up for with our dazzling stage presence,” Lucy adds, wiggling her fingers.
Ben narrows his eyes. “I think we need someone withactualtalent to sing.”
“Don’t worry,” Kayla says as she and Rose squeeze past us to their seats. “They’ll be calling my name soon.”
“I’ve got my earplugs right here.” Ben pats his coat pocket. “I meant we need Mom to get up there.”
“You’re a singer?” Ron asks.
Mom shakes her head. “No, not at all.”
“Of course, she is. Where do you think we get our charisma?” Lucy asks.
“Not from me,” Mom insists.
Willow nudges Lucy with her elbow. “I’m beginning to think your mom singing is some kind of urban legend. Nobody else can back up your claims.”
“It’s true,” Ellie says. “I’ve heard it.”
Oliver shifts in his seat, resting his arm over the back of the chair. “You should get up there. I want to hear you sing.”
“That makes two of us,” Ron agrees.
Willow raises her hand. “Three.”
“You should do it, Myra Jean.” Rose gives her an encouraging nod. “For old times’ sake.”
“She used to sing ‘Santa Baby’ every year,” Ben says. “Always got the crowd going. She even won a couple times. The prizes weren’t near as good back then, though.”
“Is that right?” Oliver asks, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You should do it, MJ. I’ll even sing with you.”
My mouth falls open. “Really?”
“Oh, I couldn’t,” Mom says, her gaze dropping to her lap.
“Please, Grandma,” Noah begs. “Please sing.”
Mom smooths the invisible wrinkles in her holly-green cashmere pants. “Sweetheart, Grandma hasn’t sung in a long time, and I just don’t think I’m up for it.”
“C’mon, Grandma,” Emily pleads. “I want to hear ‘Baby Santa.’”
Mom chuckles and scrunches her nose. “I don’t think so, sweetie.”
Lucy stands with a sigh. “Well, I guess you guys are stuck listening to me and Lindsey, then. I’m going to put our names in.”
“I wanna go too, Aunt Lucy,” Noah pipes up. “I want to sing.”
“Oh yeah?” Ellie asks. “What song?”
Noah presses his lips together, his eyes squinted. “Mmm…‘Jingle Bells’!”
“No way,” Lucy says, pressing a hand to her chest. “That’s my favorite. Come on. Let’s sign up.”
I glance back at Mom, and she gives me a wistful smile as Eddie O’Donnell returns to the stage.
“How’re we doing, Loving?” Eddie asks and is answered with raucous applause.
