Page 81 of Best Laid Plans

Natalie and I tried getting them to hold off until Thanksgiving or Christmas, but they weren’t having it—they’re way too excited to meet Tatum face-to-face. According to them, they’ve waited long enough. Three years too long, to be exact. I know it wasn’t a dig toward Natalie, but I could tell it hurt her feelings. After that, I had a private talk with my mom and dad and asked them if they could refrain from making comments like that. Mom felt awful when she realized it had upset Natalie. She was insistent on apologizing, but I convinced her to let go and to just move forward.

Hopefully she doesn’t try and spring an ambush apology on her in person—with my mom, you never know.

I pull my car into the pick-up area, and sure enough, Mom and Dad are waiting, eagerly scanning every vehicle, like they don’t know what I drive—even though Dad consulted with me on which make and model to buy.

Gotta love parents.

I idle the car and pop the trunk before hopping out to help them. Dad waves me off, insisting on stowing his own luggage, and Mom wraps me in a bone-crushing hug. “Oh, my baby! It’s been so long!” She kisses both of my cheeks and then peers around me into the backseat. “Where’s Tatum?”

“She’s at the house with Natalie.”

Mom pouts, looking much like Tatum does when she doesn’t get her way. “C’mon, you’ll see her soon enough.”

Dad shuts the trunk and comes around to hug me. It’s not one of those back-slap-man-hugs—no, it’s every bit as bone-crushing as Mom’s. “Son. You’re looking good. But take me to my grandbaby.”

I snort out a laugh. He’s every bit as bad as his wife—the two really are a match made in heaven.

The drive home is full-on nonstop chatter. We catch up on everything that’s happened since we spoke last, which isn’t much, seeing as we talk at least every two days.

They’re both anxious to meet Tatum; their excitement practically rolls off of them in waves. I have clearly been demoted in the hierarchy of importance.

I pull into the driveway, parking behind Natalie’s vehicle. My mom has her door open before I even shift the car into park.

She all but sprints toward the house, my dad not far behind her. The front door flies open and Tatum darts out, throwing herself in my mom’s waiting arms.

“Grammy! Grammy! Yous here!” Guess it’s safe to say they’re equally excited.

Mom squeezes her tight before placing her hands on her shoulders and holding her an arm’s length away. “I sure am. Now, let me look at you.” She scans Tatum from toe to top, her eyes wet with tears. “Oh, you are just beautiful.”

Dad crouches down next to them, and Tatum happily flits over to him, hugging his neck. “Paw Paw!” He smiles and kisses her cheek. She cackles and pushes his face away. “You ticklers tickle.”

Dad twitches his nose. “You mean my mustache?”

Tatum shrugs. “I guess. I think dey look like whiskers. Like a puppy!”

Dad’s expression grows dead serious, and then he lets out a bark, much to Tatum’s delight. God, who knew my parents would be such good grandparents?

I look up from my parents and Tatum to see Natalie on the porch watching their interactions. She looks a steady mix of nerves and joy. I wave her over and hesitantly, she comes.

Mom notices her first. She stands and wastes no time embracing her. “Natalie Reynolds. Look at you, all grown up.”

“Hey Mrs. Warner—”

“None of that. Call me Phyllis.”

Nat scrunches her nose and ducks her head. “Sorry. Hey Phyllis. We’re glad y’all are here. Was your flight okay?”

Dad stands and hugs Natalie too. “Aside from them serving pretzels and not peanuts, it was fine.”

Mom smacks his chest. “Fine? There was enough turbulence to bring the thing down!”

My dad chuckles. “There was one bump, dear. One.”

“Hush. Let’s not argue in front of the kids.”

“Let’s head inside,” I say. “Natalie made dinner.”

Dad pats his stomach. “Good. Those damn pretzels didn’t fill me up.”

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