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“Mom, I love your meatloaf.”
She gave me a forced smile. “But you barely ate any.”
“I had two helpings,” I said, leaning back in my chair and patting my stomach. “I’m training. I can’t gorge on your cooking until after nationals.”
She put another piece on Paz’s plate. “Hmm. I guess I can forgive you, then.” She rounded the table and squeezed my cheek. “My baby boy. A professional athlete. So exciting.”
Paz snorted and Adele coughed a “mama’s boy” under her breath. Then all three of my siblings burst into laughter.
Turning in Adele’s direction, my mom pinned her with a look.
“We know he’s your favorite, Mom.”
Mom’s face paled. “Adele Celine Gagnon, how dare you insinuate that I have a favorite child? I love you all equally. You all have special places in my heart.”
“Sorry, Mom.” My sister hung her head, not because she was genuinely sorry or scared by the mom look she’d been on the receiving end of. More likely, she was just eager for a topic change.
“You bet you are. And eat the brussels sprouts. They’re homegrown. Green food won’t kill you.”
Tucker and Goldie erupted into hysterical laughter. No one spoke like that to Adele and lived, except my mom.
Adele rolled her eyes like a teenager and speared one brussels sprout, inspecting it for several seconds before taking a bite and frowning. The kids laughed even harder.
“Why don’t you kids show Auntie Adele how it’s done?” Alice said, grinning at her kids, who had also avoided eating their vegetables.
They grumbled simultaneously, then Tucker shoved one into his mouth dramatically. Henri followed suit, followed by Hazel.
Pretty soon, the entire family was racing to eat the Brussels sprouts, grabbing the bowl and asking for more. My mother sat at the head of the table, laughing and grinning from ear to ear.
“That’s better,” she said. “Now, who’s ready for pie and ice cream?”
* * *
After dinner, we cleared the table and cleaned while my mom, Hazel, and Alice sipped iced tea in the sunroom. The sun was starting to set, and I was anxious to take my wife home and enjoy this glorious summer night. Things had changed so much between us, and our connection was even stronger than I could have ever imagined.
I caught her eye as I slung a dish towel over my shoulder, and she bit her lip. I had to turn away before I got hard in my mom’s kitchen.
Beside me, Henri nodded and his jaw ticked, the action silently telling us to follow him to the porch. We gathered, the mood turning somber, even with Goldie and Tucker and the dogs running and shouting happily nearby.
“Any updates?” I asked, looking at Henri’s serious face.
He shook his head. “The occupational safety inspector declined to take another look, even after Adele showed him the slack adjuster.”
“Fuck.”
“And the police haven’t done much either.”
“I think we should hire a private investigator.” Paz scratched at his chin.
“This isn’t a movie, Paz, this is real life.”
“The safety board, the state police, none of them have come up with anything new. Adele can literally prove Dad’s death wasn’t an accident, but we’re still missing so many pieces.”
Paz propped himself against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “We need to hire a private investigator,” he said again. “We can’t just fuck around forever.”
Maybe he was right. I knew nothing about investigators, how to find one, or how much they cost, but in theory, it was probably a good move. “This is bigger than just Dad,” I added, looking at Henri.
The signs of tampering Adele had found on the brakes of Dad’s truck matched what she’d found on Henri’s. Last fall, he lost control and jumped out of the cab, injuring himself seriously but surviving. My dad had not been so lucky.
