Page 40 of You're So Vine
“What else has Nate told you?” I inquire, eyes narrowing.
“Ooh, that’s between me and him,” Shelby replies breezily. “Can’t break a confidence.”
Behind me, Cam stifles a laugh. I’ll punish him later.
Everyone’s in the kitchen, sitting round the big scrubbed-pine table. The Armstrong family home, now Nate and Shelby’s, is all artsy and craftsy-style, exposed timber and shaker tiles. It’s got the comfortable shabbiness of a house that’s been well lived-in and well loved. It’s also full of dogs, cats, and the occasional goose. You have to keep an eye on your food and any loose jewelry.
The four men, Nate, Danny, Max, and Jackson, greet Cam in the time-honored dude tradition of a single lift of the chin. Jackson raises his beer, a gesture also in the dude greeting canon. Izzy observes this and gives me the time-honored Durant eyeroll.
“How’ve you been?” she says as I take a seat next to her. “Mom isbesideherself with worry. We almost had to lock her in the cellar to prevent her driving over to Cam’s.”
“Thanks.”
We both know what I’m really thanking her for. There are some things no mother should ever have to see.
I don’t want to ask the next question, but I’m compelled to. “What about Dad?”
“Oh, you know,” says Izzy. “On the computer. Researching all your symptoms. Sending Doc Wilson email after email because Doc has stopped taking his calls.”
“And what does Mitch think is wrong with me?”
“Everything,” says Izzy, with a wry grin. “Lyme disease, fibromyalgia, leaky heart valve, brain injury, cancer, of course—”
“Of course.”
“Liver failure, overactive thyroid,underactive thyroid. Oh, and anemia.”
“Wow. Hope it’s not that.”
I’ve got my poker face on but it’s shaky. I’ve had a lot to distract me from thinking about all the tests Doc Wilson no doubt has already lined up. Now it’s right in my face, and I have to say that list of potential diagnoses doesn’t fill me with optimism. Feels me with terror, in fact.
Izzy puts her hand on my arm. The younger Durants are much better at physical affection than me and Nate. As long as she doesn’t hug me, I’ll be fine.
“How do youfeel?” Izzy asks softly. “Better?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “Okay, I guess. Not too tired, but it’s been a pretty cruisy day.”
“Cam looking after you well?” Izzy raises her eyebrows. The minx.
She bends closer, so she can whisper in my ear. “We’re all super happy for you,” she says. “Especially Shelby. Jackson said their mom’s been trying to set Cam up with women for years, but it’s never worked out.”
“That’s right,” says Jackson.
Seems Izzy’s whisper was more of a penetrating hiss.
“It became a running joke in the family,” Jackson continues.
“What did?” says Shelby as she dumps a huge casserole pot on the table.
“Mom’s failed attempts to give Cam here a love life.”
Cam’s been talking to Nate. About vineyard handiwork, no doubt, a subject he’s very comfortable with. From the way his head shoots up, like a deer hearing a rifle being cocked (or given that it’s Cam, a moose), this subject is on the opposite end of the comfort spectrum. I feel for him, but there’s no way I’m coming to his rescue. Knowledge is power, and I selfishly want to hear all about the women who failed to win Cam’s heart.
Shelby is making room on the table for Max to put down whipped potatoes and wilted greens.
“I remember Mom’s crazy artist friend,” she says to Jackson. “I thought Mom gave up trying after that?”
“Oh, no, no, no,” says Jackson with a huge grin.
