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Riley escorted Nita into the living room while the rest of them cleared the table. She came back with her iPod and plugged it into April’s docking station. “I’d better not hear bubblegum coming out of there,” Jack said. “Radiohead would be okay, or maybe Wilco.”
April looked up from the sink. “Or Bon Jovi.” Jack stared at her. She shrugged. “One of my guilty pleasures, and I’m not apologizing.”
“My guilty pleasure is Ricky Martin,” Blue said.
They looked at Dean, but he refused to participate in this cozy family confessional, so Blue decided to pipe up for him. “Clay Aiken, right?”
Nita didn’t like being left out, and she shuffled in from the living room. “I always liked Bobby Vinton. And Fabian. He was hot.” She settled at the kitchen table.
Riley moved toward the open dishwasher. “I sort of like Patsy Cline—Mom had all her stuff—but the kids make fun of me because they don’t know who she is.”
“Good taste on your part,” Jack said.
“So what about you?” April asked Jack. “Who’s your guilty pleasure?”
“That’s easy,” Dean heard himself say. “You’re his guilty pleasure, April. Right, Jack?”
The uneasy silence that fell over the kitchen made Dean feel churlish. He was used to being the life of the party, not the end of it.
“Excuse us,” Blue said. “Dean and I have some trash to burn.”
“Before you go anywhere, Mr. Football Player,” Nita said, “I want to know exactly what your intentions are toward my Blue.”
Blue groaned. “Somebody please shoot me.”
“My relationship with Blue is private, Mrs. Garrison.” He pulled the trash from under the sink.
“I’m sure you’d like to think so,” she retorted.
April and Jack stopped to watch, more than happy to let Nita do their dirty work. Dean nudged Blue toward the side door. “Excuse us.”
But Nita wouldn’t let it go that easily. “I know you’re not still engaged. I don’t think you ever had any intention of marrying her. You just want to take what you can get. That’s the way men are, Riley. Every one of them.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“It’s not the way all men are,” Jack said to his daughter. “But Mrs. Garrison has a point.”
Dean curled his free hand around Blue’s arm. “Blue can take care of herself.”
“The girl is a walking disaster,” Nita retorted. “Someone has to look out for her.”
That was too much for Blue. “You don’t care one thing about looking out for me. You just want to make trouble.”
“Listen to that fresh mouth.”
“Our engagement is still on, Mrs. Garrison,” he said. “Let’s go, Blue.”
Riley jumped forward. “Could I like maybe be a bridesmaid or something?”
“We’re not really engaged,” Blue felt duty bound to inform her. “Dean is amusing himself.”
Their fake engagement was too convenient to let her spoil it. “We’re engaged,” he said. “Blue is just sulking.”
Nita rapped her cane on the floor. “Come into the living room with me, Riley. Away from certain people. I’ll show you some exercises to strengthen your leg muscles so you can take ballet again.”
“I don’t want to take ballet,” Riley muttered. “I want to take guitar lessons.”
Jack set down the pan he was drying. “You do?”
