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“Well, I’ll just dump it out while you’re getting dressed,” she said, pouring the contents of the blender into the sink.
“What would I get dressed for?”
“I thought we could all go out for a nice dinner,” she said brightly, pushing me toward the den.
“We all?” I arched an eyebrow at her.
Mama marched me into the den, where my older sister and Grandma Ruthie where checking over the contents of my china cabinet.
“Oh, boy.” I sighed, prompting Grandma to bobble the little china cow she was holding. Jenny’s lip curled instinctively at the sight of me and my sloppy PJs. She was wearing pressed white linen slacks and a peach scoop -neck sweater paired with Grandma’s heirloom pearls. Pearls that had been Aunt Jettie’s until I foolishly left Grandma unsupervised during Jettie ’s funeral luncheon at River Oaks.
I declined to sit across from them as they made themselves comfortable on my couch. Frankly, it was a better defensive position to have them looking up at me.
“Jane.” Grandma Ruthie sniffed, toying with her purse strap. “I haven’t seen you in so long I hardly recognize you. Have you put on a few pounds?”
Was that two or three insults in one shot? Sometimes I lost track. I offered a thin -lipped smile but said nothing. I think we can all agree this was the wisest course of action.
“Now, Mama,” my own mother warned in a tone that would ultimately do nothing to stop Grandma Ruthie.
Mama had her moments, but she was a rank amateur in terms of good old-fashioned offspring manipulation compared with my Grandma Ruthie. Guilt and passive-aggression were Grandma Ruthie’s weapons of choice, all wrapped up in pastel dress suits and a cloud of White Shoulders. Miss a Sunday dinner at her house, she developed a debilitating migraine. Go to the movies with a boy she didn’t approve of, and she ended up in the hospital with chest pains. Announce you were planning to study library science instead of elementary education, as she had planned for you, she checked herself in for exploratory surgery. All the while, she moaned from underneath her soothing gel eye mask that she “doesn’t want to be a burden” with all of her demands, but “who knows how long I have left?”
Jettie appeared near the window, surveying the little tableau we presented and grinning from ear to ear. “And it’s not even my birthday.”
Aunt Jettie danced over to the china cabinet a few feet behind Jenny and Grandma and began levitating various bric-a-brac over their heads. Fortunately, Mama was rearranging the photos on my mantel to keep hers at the forefront, so she didn’t notice. I clenched my jaw and shook my head at my ghostly great-aunt, who was making spooky “Ooooooo” noises that nobody else could hear.
Jenny, who had obviously been waiting patiently for this opportunity, was unaware of the candlestick floating over her head.
She quirked her carefully painted lips (which matched her twin set) and said, “So, Mama says you haven’t gotten another job yet.”
If I corrected her and said anything about my new job, it would only prolong their visit, so I shrugged it off. “Daddy says you repainted your kitchen.”
“How are you going to pay the bills? You know, the taxes on River Oaks are coming up soon,” she said, trying her hardest to be nonchalant. “If you can’t pay them, you can always come to Kent and me for a loan.”
I narrowed my eyes at my sister. Same old Jenny. The same Jenny who refused to let me touch her pep -squad pom-poms because I’d “mess them up.” The same Jenny who picked our second cousin to be a bridesmaid over me because everyone else in her wedding party was thin and blond, and she didn’t want me to “stick out.” Well, screw the same old Jenny.
“I’d rather roll naked over broken glass and dive into a pool full of lemon juice, but thanks, ” I said, smiling back. “Besides, Junie said there are some shifts opening up at the Booby Hatch. I thought I’d give that a try.”
Mama gasped and turned, prompting Jettie to drop the candlestick behind the couch with a thud.
No one noticed, because Grandma Ruthie loudly demanded, “You know what your problem is, Jane?”
“No, but if I had a couple of hours, I’m sure you’d tell me.”
“You’re too full of yourself.” She sniffed. “Always have been. I’ve never understood what you thought was so special about you—”
“Why don’t you just go get dressed, honey, and we’ll wait down here?” Mama asked, her voice desperately cheerful.
“I wasn’t finished, Sherry,” Grandma Ruthie said.
Behind her back, Aunt Jettie muttered, “The minute she’s finally ‘finished,’ that’s when we’ll know to call the undertaker.”
“Well, what about selling the house?” Jenny asked, irked that the conversation had strayed from her agenda. “You don’t need all the space to yourself. I have two growing boys. We need the room. And it’s just impractical for you to have all this room now that you’re broke.”
“I’m not selling you the house so you can raise those two wolverines you call children here. ” I rolled my eyes. “Honestly, Jenny, you’re about as subtle as a sack of hammers. And I’m not broke. So just back off.”
“Jane, how about getting dressed?” Mama asked again. Her voice was desperate now. “We’ll need to hurry if we’re going to get a table.”
“Mama, I can’t. Really, I can’t.”
