Page 64 of It Runs in the Family

She gave me an innocent look and shrugged. “Only on Tuesdays.”

“And what Granny doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Ava said.

“What won’t Granny know?” Aunt Millie demanded as she burst through the door carrying a stack of plates. “And why are you all huddled in here over a sink of soapy water when you should be clearing tables?”

“There’s like fifty other people out there,” Ava snapped, perching her hand on her hip, her wet towel dangling next to her leg. “Why aren’t they bringin’ plates in?”

“They’re eatin’ dessert.” She placed the stack of dishes on the counter, then studied the three of us. “And you never answered my question about what your granny doesn’t know.”

Ava and Mary Ellen exchanged glances, but I piped up, “That I brought store-bought mashed potatoes.”

I knew I was begging for trouble, but I wasn’t going to throw my cousins under the bus. If Aunt Millie knew they were talking about going to Bueller’s, she’d make a beeline to Granny and spill everything.

Aunt Millie’s lips turned pale as she pressed them tight and took a step toward me. “What were you thinkin’ with that stunt?”

“I swear, Aunt Millie. I honestly thought it was meatloaf day.” I wasn’t gonna toss the blame onto Garrett, the rightful owner of said stunt. After all, he was putting a roof over my head.

Her eyes narrowed to slits as she held eye contact. “I don’t believe that for a minute. Were you tryin’ to show me up?”

“How could she show you up with store-bought potatoes?” Mary Ellen asked sweetly. “I mean, yours are homemade.”

Aunt Millie turned her glare on Mary Ellen as her cheeks turned red. There was no way to answer that without admitting my Hillman’s potatoes might have been better.

“It was obvious which were the superior potatoes,” Aunt Millie said in an icy voice. “But you better check yourself, Iris. You’re much too high and mighty for you own good.”

My brows shot up. “High and mighty?”

“I know you’ve been hangin’ around here under the guise of helping Momma with the farm. We all know she doesn’t want it to be sold or parceled off. Which means someone in this family is gonna inherit the place.” She leaned closer, her face inches from mine. “And I’ll be damned if Darlene’s bastard daughter is gonna inherit what’s mine.”

I gasped as Ava and Mary Ellen stared at her in shock. This was the first I’d heard about Granny’s thoughts about the farm, but I wasn’t gonna stand there and let her accuse me of brown-nosing my grandmother.

“Maybe I’m out here so often because I enjoy spendin’ time with my grandmother.”

“Ha!” Millie snorted. “Not likely. No one likes spending time with my mother.”

“Well, I do,” I said, indignant. “Sure, she’s rough around the edges, but at least I know she’s tellin’ me the truth when she opens her mouth. After all the lies and horse shit I’ve been fed most of my life, I prefer honesty, even if it’s delivered a little rough around the edges.”

“Are you callin’ me a liar?” Aunt Millie screeched.

“She’s talkin’ about her mother, you dimwit,” Mary Ellen said.

Aunt Millie gasped and placed a hand on her chest. “Did you just call me a dimwit?”

“I didn’t know you were hard of hearin’ too,” Mary Ellen said with a smug look. “I’ll add it to the list.”

Aunt Millie took a step back, her body shaking with anger. “I’m gonna tell your mother about this disrespect.”

“Go ahead,” Mary Ellen said. “She thinks you’re a dimwit too.”

Releasing a cry of outrage, Aunt Millie stomped out the door.

I turned to Mary Ellen, shaking my head in disbelief. “Aunt Marcie may think her sister is a dimwit, but she’s gonna be furious you actually said it to her face.”

“I know,” Mary Ellen said, tossing her towel on the counter. “Which is why we need to sneak out the front of the house. Now.”

Ava dropped her towel on the counter too. “While I wasn’t the one to call Aunt Millie a dimwit, we all know that I get in trouble when Mary Ellen does, so I need to go with her.” She grabbed the dishcloth from my hand and threw it into the sink, sending soapy water spraying on the wall, the counter, the floor, and my side. “You’re comin’ too.”

“I can’t leave,” I protested. “I rode with Garrett.”