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I turn to catch Paige’s eye, not sure if I’m supposed to stick with her or roam, but she smiles and jerks her head in the direction of a room leaking sounds of a football game and several loud male groans.
Tabitha makes the introductions, and once the men establish that I don’t follow football, Noah and Mr. Winters turn back to the TV and Sawyer gets up and suggests we go outside.
We find Paige sitting on a glider, watching Evie gallop around the backyard.
“She’s riding a unicorn,” she explains.
I nod. Sure. Why not?
We eat and chat. Or Sawyer and Paige do, really. It’s nothing deep, but it feels like more than small talk. These are the conversations of people who are entirely comfortable with each other, and before long, they’re asking me questions. How do I like it here, what does an anthropologist do, exactly, is Evie the best or what, and from Evie herself, why do I think Santa picked the North Pole when he could have picked a beach to live?
I answer all of these to everyone’s satisfaction, I think. At least, Evie seems to accept my theory as an anthropologist that Santa chose a region that is largely uninhabited by humans so he can do his work without interruption, unlike the beach, where lots of people go to visit.
Bill calls us in to eat, and once we’re settled around their table, I’m almost relaxed. I don’t feel that way around new people often, but with the Winters family, I don’t feel like one of them, exactly, but I also don’t feel like an outsider.
By the time the dishes get passed around the table, I’m even kind of comfortable—until a question from Tabitha sends things off the rails.
“So is it awkward dating a neighbor?” she asks us. “Like, did you have to agree on a fallout plan if things don’t work out?”
Paige chokes on her water, and Grace starts laughing.
“Tab, they aren’t dating.”
“They aren’t?” Tabitha looks from me to Paige, then over to her mother. “I thought you said they hang out all the time, and he cooks her dinner. And didn’t he go to Evie’s play? And now he’s here.”
Noah’s eyebrows snap together, and Paige shakes her head. “Just neighbors,” she says. She throws a look I can only describe as pleading in Lisa’s direction, and I add a silent boost to it.Yes, Lisa, change the subject. Please.
“They’re not dating, Tabitha. Leave them alone. By the way, Paige, I’ve been meaning to tell you that your lipstick is really pretty.”
“Thanks,” Paige says, her coughing fit under control. She looks back to normal except she won’t make eye contact with me.
“But I don’t get how that’s not—” Tabitha starts, but her mother cuts her off.
“I learned the most interesting thing about lipstick from Presley at the salon the other day,” Lisa continues while Paige saws at a piece of turkey so tender it falls apart at a touch. “She said that the way you can choose your best neutral lip color is to find a shade that matches your” —she pauses and glances at Evie, then says—“areoles.”
This time Noah spits out his water, at least three forks clatter to their plates, Bill shakes his head, and Sawyer’s fork freezes halfway to his mouth.
Evie’s voice slices through the moment with, “What’s an areola, Mama?”
This is not the change of subject Paige and I were hoping for. I think I can confidently assume that on her behalf.
All three of the other men turn to look at their wives speculatively, and I drop my eyes to my plate. I will not be participating in this conversation. Nope.
Tabitha clears her throat, and I don’t know her well enough to guess whether she’s about to save the situation or blow it up more. “That’s interesting, Mom. The network makeup artist says the best way is to try a bunch and pick the one that looks good. Like a normal person.”
Sawyer nods. “Although I’d be willing to help you try this other method.”
“All right,” Grace says, “that’s enough.” She shoots me an apologetic look. “I’m pretty sure this is payback for driving up the bidding on Paige.”
“Then why am I suffering?” Paige complains.
“Are y’all done now?” Grace asks, darting glances at the three main offenders.
Lisa gives me a small smile. “I believe I am.”
“Fair enough,” I say. “I deserved it.”
“Tab? Sawyer?” Grace fixes them both with a hard stare. Tabitha might be the oldest sister, but it feels like Grace is the one who runs the show.
