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“What are you talking about?”
“Moira was all up and mighty on her high horse when she called this morning to tell me off.”
“I thought you weren’t on speaking terms with your estranged sister.”
“We aren’t.”
“Then why is she mad at you?”
“You usurped her wee baby daughter’s royal wedding announcement. The youngest Golightly is in town, making the rounds, flashing her big gaudy rock. So distasteful.”
“Mariah is in Philadelphia?”
“Yes!” Mom makes this sound of disgust. I can see her crossing her arms over her ample chest, unimpressed.
“Unbelievable.”
“You’re telling me. It’s like she’s auditioning for a reality TV show. She arrived Tuesday morning just before her freakin’ publicist pushed the news out about her pending nuptials. What a farce!”
“Mariah has a publicist?!”
My morning was going so well.
“Yes, she’s going to be a freakin’ princess, don’t you know? So, of course it’s newsworthy.”
“She’s just going to marry a multimillionaire, not a freakin’ prince.” I can’t help but adopt Mom’s Scottish accent.
“She’s a bloody nitwit, that one,” Mom says. I stifle a laugh. “In her delusional mind, it’s the same freakin’ thing. I’m surprised she hasn’t taken to walking around with a freakin’ tiara on her head—not that she’d find one big enough to fit that inflated ego of hers.”
I roll my eyes. “I still don’t understand why Aunt Moira thinks I care enough about stupid Mariah to give a damn about her wedding announcement.”
“Good for you for not giving a flying fuck,” Mom says.
“So, what’s this about me stealing the limelight from her precious child?”
“You haven’t been online?” Mom asks.
“No. It’s still early here.”
“Ooohhh, that’s why you don’t know.”
“You’re not making sense, Mom.”
“From the photos and the in-your-face headlines, you’re the new it girl, child.”
“What?”
“Get on the internet and see for yerself.”
“Okay, give me a second.” I rush to my laptop, open it, and fire it up.
“My sister has some nerves,” Mom says. “As Moira was losing her freakin’ shit on the other end of the phone, I reminded her we were done as sisters before hanging up in her bloody face. I didn’t mince words, I tell ya. Daddy was on his back laughing.”
I still don’t know what this is all about, but I can’t help the laughter bubbling from me.
Daddy is always quick to defend me against the nasty Golightly clan.
Aunt Moira and her three daughters are witches, I swear.
