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And I can’t help remembering how my first crush was Belle fromBeauty and the Beast. Apparently I have a thing for brunettes obsessed with books.
Because I can, and because I know my grandmother won’t care, I pinch Summer’s chin holding her face still as I dip down for a kiss. My librarian lets out a little gasp of surprise, but doesn’t pull away.
At Mama Al’s chuckle, I break off the kiss and tilt my head, trying hard to suppress a smile.
“Summer, this is my grandmother.”
“Penelope Allemand. Call me Mama Al.” My relative holds her hand out, and Summer steps away from me to accept the offering.
“Nice to meet you, Mama Al. I love Cole’s sweater. I don’t think he’s ever looked more handsome.” When Summer loops her arm around my waist, I vow to wear more colors, more often.
“Agreed. But then, I think he gets handsomer every day.” Mama Al pats my cheek with a hand bedecked in heavy silver rings. “Now it’s a beautiful sunny Christmas Eve. No reason to spend it inside.”
“I was just looking for something to open the wine.” My eyes skip to the forbidden drawer again. “But no luck.”
Summer runs her hand over my lower back, and I love the way she uses her touch to reassure me. “I can drink beer. Or water. Or whatever. I’m easy.”
My grandma smirks. “Aren’t we all honey? But here, I should have us covered.” And the sparkling woman reaches into her mammoth of a purse. Other grandmothers have hard candies and tissues in their bags. Not mine. Stick a hand into her bag and you’re likely to come out with a map of North Dakota, or a taser, or a length of rope. She’s a survivor, and her accessories reflect it.
Today though, she pulls out a small corkscrew.
“Never know when you might come across some poor abandoned wine that needs to be liberated.”
Summer claps in delight and follows Mama Al to the counter where they uncork the bottle and pour a decent amount of red liquid into two glasses before sharing a cheers. I’m momentarily forgotten, but that’s fine by me. Having Summer be at ease with my family is just one more step in my quest to get her to fall for me.
Later, when we’re situated out on the concrete patio, Summer, Mama Al, and I drinking while Dad grills, conversation ebbs and flows.
“You in a hotel nearby?” my dad asks my grandmother.
“I’m staying,” she declares before downing a hearty swallow of wine.
“That’s what we want to know.” The roll of his eyes is almost audible. “Where are you staying?”
“In a hotel for the next few days. Then the house I’ve signed on to rent will be available for me to move in.”
Silence descends over the group. Summer was quiet anyway, letting the family discussions take place without her input. She has no idea how much of a bombshell statement my grandmother just made.
“You’re renting? Here?” Was that desperation in my voice? It’s only, my whole life Mama Al has always been transient. She’d come to New Orleans for a few days, maybe a week, then she’d be off on a new adventure.
The longest she stayed was a time I didn’t get to enjoy her company. Because I was behind bars. Mama Al stuck around then because her son was in the hospital recovering from a heart attack.
When my dad found out about my arrest, only minutes went by before a pain shot through his arm and he clutched at his chest. Again, I only know this second hand. Because I wasn’t there. Because I had landed myself in police custody.
“I thought I’d stay for a little while.”
“Oh you should!” Summer leans toward the older woman, an excited smile on her red lips. “You’ll be here for Mardi Gras.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Mama Al squeezes Summer’s knee, then raises an eyebrow at my dad. “Plus, I want to play matchmaker.”
I hide a smile as Dad glares at the corn he just put on the grill.
“Don’t.”
“Who said I’m matchmaking for you? I have plenty of friends in town.”
Dad snorts in disbelief, and I reach over to ease Summer into my lap. Mama Al better not get any ideas about me. I’m perfectly happy with how my love life is progressing.
The afternoon continues with my grandma sharing travel stories and giving my dad small verbal pokes. We opt to stay outside when the food is done, propping plates in our laps and setting our drinks on the ground. Summer takes over the conversation, relating hilarious library stories that have my grandma laughing and my dad cracking a smile or two.
