Page 96 of You're So Vine
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” says Jackson. “Mom asked me to call. Don’t panic, she’s fine, too.”
I breathe out.
“But Debra’s been transferred to the hospice. She doesn’t have long. She’d like to see you.”
“Me?”
“And Ava. And Shelby and Nate. I’m calling Tyler and Frankie, too.”
The other Armstrong kids. The whole family. Debra’s family. Learning about their aunt’s existence for the first time.
“Visiting hours start at eight,” says Jackson. “Sorry, gotta go. Gotta get hold of the others.”
“Thanks,” I tell him, but he’s already ended the call.
Ava’s looking at me with wide eyes. The room’s quiet enough for her to have heard everything.
“Who the fuck is Debra?” is her very fair first question.
“Let me make coffee,” I say, trying not to beg. “And I’ll tell you everything.”
As you might guess, brewing coffee and explaining to Ava is not a straightforward process. We’re interrupted by Shelby calling me to make sure she’s understood Jackson correctly.
“I have anaunt? Mom has asister? No one tells me anything!”
Then by Nate calling me.
“This was the stupidly loyal promise you made to Lee, right? Could you not have given us even a little hint? Shelby’s besideherself.”
Then by Nate calling Ava.
“Should I go, too? I mean, I’m related by marriage now, but…”
Then by Shelby calling Ava.
“You and Nate have to come! It can’t be only me, Cam, and Jackson…!”
Then by Jackson calling me back. “Okay, so Tyler and Frankie are on their way. They’ll drive from the airport. Hope they make it in time…”
Then by Shelby calling Ava again.
“Can we pick up you and Cam so we can all go together? I need everyone’s support…”
Then by Nate calling me again.
“I’ve asked Doug to manage the vineyard while you, me, and Shelby are all gone. This time of year, things are supposed to get easier…”
Finally, our phones go quiet.
“Ugh,” says Ava. “My ears are buzzing. And my heart is racing, though I’m pretty sure I only managed one sip of this coffee.”
“I’ll make us refills,” I offer.
She’s sitting on an armchair in that pretzel-legged yoga position that I haven’t a hope of managing even partway. When I take her cup, she gives me a searching look. I hesitate, not able to read her mood. Worried that she seems a little subdued.
“You met Debra,” she says, “when you drove that day to Lee’s.”
“Yup.”
