Page 78 of The Fake Out

“Yeah, Elmie,” I said. “Move over. I want to sit next to your sister.”

“They told you. Great.” Grumbling like the long-suffering brother he was, Chris moved over to the empty seat. “Good to see you, too.”

“Oh, please. I see you all the time.” Millie slid into the empty chair and smiled at me. “Mae, on the other hand, I have never seen.”

I’d never had a big family dinner like this. The closest I’d gotten was when Granny was alive. Most of our meals were eaten in front of the television, yelling out answers to Wheel of Fortune puzzles. But the Sterns were talkative and loud. They teased each other and chatted about their day. There were smiles and laughs.

I didn’t expect to enjoy it; I didn’t want to enjoy it. None of it was real. Or at least my part in all of it wasn’t. This would likely be the only time I’d be welcome here and I knew it was strange after only spending an afternoon with them, but that thought made me incredibly sad.

“Ellie called yesterday,” Luke said, his voice quiet and thoughtful. “She sounded better than she has in a while.”

Chris nodded. “We talked this week too. She’s got a new job.”

“I’ve been so worried about her,” Margot said. “I wish she’d just move back home. Then I could see Oliver and pinch his little chubby cheeks all the time.” She turned to me. “I’m sorry. Ellie’s our oldest daughter, three years younger than Chris. She lives out in California. I suppose with five kids, the odds are pretty high that at least one is going to move away from home.”

Luke put a hand on his wife’s arm to comfort her. “Maybe it’s time for another visit to see her.”

Millie pushed her empty plate to the side and sat back in her chair. “So, Mae, how much did my brother have to pay you to go out with him?”

I choked. On what, I wasn’t sure. Air? My tongue? How could she possibly know about our deal? I fumbled to pick up my glass of water. “H-he didn’t… I mean… well…”

Chris sighed. “It was one time. One time. And I was eleven.”

“Wait… what?”

“Tell the story, Betsy,” Millie said. “You’re so good at it.”

“As you wish.” She made a big show of standing and clearing her throat.

“Betsy was a theater kid.” Chris met my eyes over Millie’s head with a reluctant smile.

“Chris was in the sixth grade. Back then, he was still a shrimp.” Betsy held her thumb and forefinger up with perhaps an inch of space between them.

“I was not.”

“Yes, you were,” Margot said. “You were the cutest little bug.”

The sisters snickered at Chris’s pained expression.

“It was the week of his first dance, and he had a crush on an eighth grader. What was her name?”

“Cora,” Chris said quickly, falling right into Betsy’s trap.

Betsy smiled slyly. “Yes, that’s right. Cora. She was tall, had long red hair and was super smart; always had a book with her.”

The entire table’s eyes swung to me.

Margot smiled widely. “Would you look at that.”

“Guess he has a type,” Aggie said.

Chris winked at me. “Maybe I do.”

“Anyway, Chris spent days working up the courage to ask Cora to the dance. When he finally did, Cora told him she already had a boyfriend. There are rumors he cried when he got home.”

“I did not cry.” Chris leaned toward me and lowered his voice. “At least not in front of anyone.”

Margot cut in. “But the very next day, he arrived home from school and declared he had a date to the dance. He’s always been one to bounce right back up when he gets knocked down.”