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“Gone to check on her pecan pie,” Mama said about the same time my grandmother came in through the back door.
“There’s my darlin’ boy,” she cooed, holding her arms open. I went to her immediately, towering over her as she hugged me fiercely. “You know better than to stay away this long,” she scolded, reaching up and patting my cheek. “Are you going to introduce me to your girl?”
Grandmama slipped her arm through mine, and I led her to the other side of the kitchen. She let go of me and took Muriella’s face in her weathered hands. They’d seen a lot of years, but they weren’t frail, not by a long shot. “It’s about damn time. And aren’t you just as pretty as a picture.”
Muriella blushed. “We should have done this a long time ago, Miss Ruby,” she said. Everyone stilled, watching the overdue meeting.
“Ain’t that the truth? Now come greet an old woman the proper way, child.”
Muriella and my grandmother were about the same height, and when they embraced, a strange feeling stirred in my chest. Grandmama kissed her cheek and whispered something in her ear that made Muriella’s eyes glass over.
“Are y’all hungry?” Mama asked, breaking the silence. She was already opening the oven, and I got a whiff of fried chicken that made my mouth water.
“Starved, Mama,” I answered, earning a smile. “Want some help?”
“Glad to see you’ve still got your manners,” she mused, and my sister groaned.
“I was working my way back up to favorite, but you haven’t even been here five minutes and that’s blown all to hell.”
“You never were the favorite,” Mitch said matter-of-factly. “I am.”
Mulaney made a face and grabbed the glass pitcher of sweet tea from the refrigerator. “Can’t you do something with your husband?” she asked Juliana as she exited to the formal dining room. We had a big round table in the kitchen, but it wouldn’t seat this crowd.
“You know he’s much better than before I was in the picture,” Juliana said.
Mitch hooked his arm around her waist and kissed her passionately. “That’s right, baby. Wouldn’t be the man I am without you.” Seeing how happy they were brought on an intense wave of joy and longing. Muriella and I had that. I looked across the room at her. She’d visibly paled at the display, her uneasy gaze darting to mine before looking away.
A chorus of “cut it out” and “gross” came from their girls, who filled cups with ice and took them to the dining room without being asked.
“Worked like a charm.” Mitch and Juliana high-fived at their parenting skills. They’d done a damn good job with those girls. We were proud as peacocks of them, and Leona had already decided she was going to follow in her dad’s footsteps and be a veterinarian. Gabby wanted to be an actress, but Uncle Stone wasn’t quite ready for that.
We sat at the dining room table with a folding card table lined up at one end to handle overflow. The Christmas tree shone through the large opening between the living room and dining room.
Granddaddy sat at the head of the table and said grace before everyone started passing around fried chicken, mashed potatoes, fried okra, creamed corn, purple hull peas, and cornbread. There was no such thing as a small meal in the Jacobs household. The ladies of my family had outdone themselves.
“So, Muriella. Why’s my brother not good enough for you?” Mulaney asked, wasting no time getting to what was on her mind. Apparently, playing nice was off her agenda.
“Damn it, Mulaney.” I glared at her across the table, and she didn’t even bat an eye. She leveled her gaze on Muriella, who was seated next to me.
She treated my sister with the grace of a lady, fashioning a pleasant look on her face. “I’m glad you’re protective of him.” She looked at me, her expression bittersweet. “And it’s not Stone who isn’t good enough for me. He deserves the very best, and I can’t give that to him.”
I opened my mouth to say that Muriella was as wrong as she could be, when Mulaney interrupted. “Then you should figure out how to.” I didn’t disagree with Mulaney in this case. Sometimes simple answers were the best.
“I appreciate the advice, but I know what I’m doing.” Muriella didn’t quite snap at her, though her patience was waning. I knew it wasn’t my sister, but her inner struggles rising to the surface. I was proud of her strength.
“This fried chicken is delicious, Mama,” Mitch interjected, attempting to defuse the tension. He wasn’t afraid of conflict, but he didn’t like it, and Mama never let us bring our problems to the dinner table. This was the time when we enjoyed good food and each other’s company. As soon as it was over, we solved things together.
“I made it,” Grandmama corrected, and I couldn’t stifle the snicker that escaped me. She shot me a look that would have frozen the sun before winking at me.
“Thank you for cooking my favorite, Grandmama,” I said, earning another groan from Mulaney.
“It’severyone’sfavorite, Stone.”
“She still made it forme,” I returned petulantly. Didn’t matter how old we got, my brother, sister, and I could act worse than we had as kids. Probably always would.
“You’d argue with a fence post,” Mulaney said, shoving potatoes in her mouth.
Mitch said, “Um, that’s you, sister dear.” He pointed his fork accusingly in her direction, spot on in his assessment. Even when my sister figured out she was dead wrong about something, she wouldn’t give it up. I had to give her props; Mulaney stood her ground, no matter what.
