Page 110 of The Lookback

“Mind your business, you whale of a pregnant harpy,” I say.

Other people are appalled by our banter, but we’ve discovered that saying the things we’re both thinking actually helps us not hate each other. We’re both laughing when Helen tears down my drive and skid-slides onto the main road.

“If you insist on driving this ice skate, you could at least wait to hit the gas until you’re on the professionally plowed road,” I say.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Helen loves driving in snow, and David’s too afraid to take the wheel away from her. It’s a strange relationship that I don’t think anyone really fully comprehends.

“Have as much fun as you want if it means you’re going faster,” I say. “You showed up five minutes late, and I still need to pick up those flowers. The post office crapped out on delivering them.”

“You live in a place where flowers are delivered by the post office,” Helen says. “That’s your fault, not the post office’s.”

“That and ablizzard,” David says. “I think Emery might forgive you for showing up empty-handed.”

“I’m not empty-handed,” Helen says. “I don’t give people flowers that have beenmailed.”

“What did you get her?” I know I shouldn’t claw the back of the seat of someone who’s driving, but if I were to clip an artery with one of my claw-like nails in my distress, well, no one could blame me. “Just tell me.”

Helen smiles, angling her face to be sure I can see her in the rearview.

“You’re evil,” I say. “I’m not defending you anymore.”

She snorts. “As if you ever did.”

“You can’t show me up with my own granddaughter. You’re not even related to Emery.”

“She’s my sister’s niece, so I’m actually more related to her than you are, you wacky old biddy.”

“As fun as it is, listening to you two fling insults,” David says, “in the interest of surviving to the play, I’ll just say that Helen was sent a bunch of swag for a company that boasts a line of jewelry last month. Among the things they sent, there was a lily pendant, and she’s giving it to Emery.”

“What’s this pendant made of?” I ask.

“Diamonds.” Helen’s beaming. “Beautiful, high-quality diamonds.”

“You can’t?—”

“It’s a flower,” Helen says. “Which is what you give someone who has successfully performed in a play. Only, this one she can wear and keep.”

My hands clamp down on the back of the chair again, but I wish they were around her neck. “Helen Fisher Park?—”

“No Park,” David says. “She’s not taking my name.”

“Actually, maybe I will,” Helen says. “I like how sophisticated that sounds. Helen. Fisher. Park.” She glances over her shoulder. “Say it again.”

I really might strangle her.

But we’re just pulling into the parking lot, and I remember that we’re here for Emery. She’ll love the necklace, and that’s what matters. “Wait,” I say. “What about my flowers? We need to pick them up. They said they’re holding them for me until I get there because of the storm.”

Helen shrugs. “Do you really think they matter?”

David pokes her shoulder. “Stop.”

“Why?” Helen’s grinning like the Cheshire cat. “This is so much fun.”

“Abby already picked up the flowers,” David says. “She texted Helen earlier. She had to get something for the baby, and she saw the box. She’ll have them?—”

But Abby’s already tapping on the glass, a baby on one hip, flower box on the other.

I snatch it from her and peel back the lid, only to realize that they’re all brown. “Oh, no,” I say.

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