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“How did you meet my granddaughter?”
“My sister introduced us,” he replied without hesitation. “Lynette is also an occupational therapist. She and Kim work together.”
“You get along well with his sister?”
Kim nodded. “Lynette is one of my best friends.”
“Hmm. That’s good. At least you see his family often, even if you don’t see your own. Not that I blame you entirely for that,” the old woman muttered. She cast a somewhat morose look toward her daughters, who were squabbling over whether to serve the salads as a first course or side dishes to the buffet lunch.
All of them watched as Bob tactfully settled the disagreement and began to carry dishes into the dining room. Treva and Betsy followed him with more dishes in hand, though neither overburdened herself.
Grandma Dyess shook her head in resignation. “Those girls have been fighting since the day Treva was born,” she informed Tate. “You’d think by now they’d have figured out that neither of them is ever going to win, but don’t give them that much credit. Betsy’s got Bob trained like one of those little dogs those rich girls carry around in designer bags. Hope he doesn’t get fed up with it too soon. He’s the best of the bunch of the string of men she’s brought to my table.”
Tate didn’t quite know how to respond to such blunt candor. Fortunately, Mr. Jingles hit the floor again at just that moment, so he was spared the necessity of coming up with a reply. He bent to retrieve the toy again and offered it back to Daryn with a wink. She laughed and gave the chiming toy a vigorous shake.
All in all, the baby was a much easier audience than Grandma Dyess, he thought wryly. They both unnerved him a little, but at least Daryn couldn’t talk yet.
* * *
Grandma Dyess’s long, rather narrow dining room was the largest room in her house. Originally a formal living room/dining room combination, it had been converted to dining alone as the family had expanded, with tables at both ends, each of which held eight adults comfortably, or ten when crowded. Two long buffets pushed against the far wall were covered with salads, casseroles, side dishes, breads and desserts. Kim had offered to bring a dish, but her mother had insisted that she and Bob had prepared more than their share for the family, especially since it would have been difficult for Kim to transport food all the way from Little Rock.
Glancing at the feast being descended on by a horde of hungry relatives, Kim decided that there was, indeed, plenty of food. Standing out of the way with Daryn on her hip and Tate by her side until the first rush settled, she made a quick head count, just for curiosity. Not counting herself, Daryn or Tate, fifteen people had gathered for lunch with Grandma. Some—notably Stuart and Mike—didn’t look particularly happy to be there. Her mother and Treva were too busy squabbling and supervising to relax and enjoy themselves; or maybe that was their idea of a good time. Who could tell with them?
Abby and Harper were somewhat undisciplined, dashing around the room and making noise in a way they should have outgrown by now. From her place at the head of the first table, where she waited to be served, Grandma Dyess made the observation that young ladies needed to learn manners at an early age, and then she gave their mother a stern look that had Patty’s lip quivering and Treva jumping to the defensive.
“It isn’t easy for a single mother to raise two young daughters alone,” she argued with Grandma. “The girls are somewhat strong-willed, but Patty does the best she can.”
“Needs to try a little harder,” Grandma retorted, frowning at Harper, who had just thrown a roll at her sister. “Single or not, it’s a mother’s job to teach her children how to behave in polite society.”
Patty grabbed Harper’s shoulder and bustled her out of the room for a lecture, with Harper whining and protesting all the way.
Kim winced a little, hearing echoes of her own previous soapbox comments to Tate about irresponsible parenting. Heavens, was she turning into her grandmother already?
Still, old-fashioned or not, she planned to begin comportment lessons very early with her daughter. She’d have done the same with a son. She noted with a stifled smile that Mike was suddenly hovering over Lucas, frantically whispering directions as he helped the boy fill a plate and carry it to the opposite table from where Grandma Dyess sat.
While Betsy and Treva argued about who would serve the meal to their mother, Bob filled a plate with generous portions and quietly set it in front of his mother-in-law along with a glass of iced tea. “Can I get you anything else, Mother Dyess?”
“No, that’s all. Thank you, Bob. Get yourself something and relax awhile. That wife of yours is quite capable of serving herself, you know.”
Bob chuckled. “Yes, ma’am, I know.”
Grandma Dyess shot a look across the room. “Kim, you and Tate help yourselves and then come sit at this table with me. What are you going to do with the baby while you eat?”
“I’ll just hold her. I’m used to eating one-handed.”
Nodding, Grandma Dyess efficiently ordered everyone else to the table she chose for them. In addition to Kim and Tate, she seated Betsy and Bob, Treva, Nelson and Sandi at her table. If anyone was unhappy with the assignment, no one had the courage to protest when Grandma Dyess spoke.
Because she was holding the baby, Tate helped Kim fill her plate and carry it to the table along with his own. During the meal, Kim alternated taking bites of her own food with spooning mashed sweet potatoes and bits of banana from the fruit salad into Daryn’s mou
th. Concentrating on the meal gave her an excuse to avoid some of the scrutiny aimed at her and Tate, who conversed genially with their tablemates while eating and occasionally retrieving Mr. Jingles from the floor.
Though she supposed it was foolish, considering the circumstances, she still found some satisfaction in knowing that neither she nor Tate had outright lied to any of the questions asked of them. After all those weekly lunch conversations, they knew each other well enough to bluff through most of the not-so-subtle inquisition without resorting to outright fabrication.
Her mother was the real problem. For some reason, Betsy wouldn’t allow herself to be content with her victory in getting Kim to bring Daryn and Tate to the reunion, thereby backing up Betsy’s past lies. Instead, she kept bragging about her daughter and “son-in-law” with stories that grew progressively more fake, despite Kim’s efforts to restrain her.
Not to be outdone, Treva continually jumped in with boasts about how much money Patty was making as a nurse practitioner—which was “almost like a doctor, you know”—how much respect Cara Lynn commanded with her newly obtained master’s degree in elementary education and how brilliantly both of her granddaughters had performed in first grade and preschool last semester.
Treva made a point of chastising Kim during the meal for not inviting her family to attend her wedding. “I would have enjoyed seeing you walk down the aisle,” she said, aggrieved. “And while I doubt that you and Tate could afford a big, fancy celebration, I’m sure your mother could have scraped together a little cash to help you.”
