Page 13 of Breaking Emily's Rules
Grammy waved a hand. “Fine. I’ll find a place in the dining room. This way I’ll be in attendance at every Thanksgiving and Christmas even after I’m gone. Now, I’ll be watching over you all, so don’t forget to say grace.”
“Oh, Daddy is going to love this,” Molly said with an eye roll.
“Your father isn’t any of my concern. He spends half his time in Texas pretending he’s a cowboy when he ought to be home with his family,” Grammy shouted over her shoulder as she left the room with her urn.
The subject of our father and his reluctance to let go of the cattle ranch days was one I couldn’t handle before noon. Or plenty of coffee.
I eyed the bacon and eggs Grammy had left on a warming platter, considering whether or not I still had an appetite.
“I was thinking—” Molly said with a grin.
“Don’t you dare.” I pointed a finger.
“I’ll be good this time. Okay, I should have stayed away from the tequila shots. And Thomas.”
“That would have been nice.”
“But we should go see if we can find that nice man who helped us with Thomas. And then I can apologize.”
I sat at the kitchen table and thought about how much I’d like to thank Stone. But I wouldn’t need Molly for that. “I’m not going back there for a while.”
“Why? I saw you dancing with him. And you looked happy. What have you got against happy?”
“I don’t have anything against it. I have something against starting a relationship right now. I have to work on myself.”
“Who said anything about a relationship?” Molly drew the last word out, emphasizing every syllable. “Why does everything have to be a big deal to you? Can’t you just have fun?”
Of course I couldn’t have fun. I had plans to make, and they didn’t involve a man. I opened my mouth to answer, but Grammy walked back in the kitchen and spoke first.
“What you need to do is learn from your big sister, young lady. Sometimes a lady needs to take a good long look at her life to find out where she’s going. It wouldn’t hurt you to do the same.” Grammy reached for a mug and poured some coffee in it.
Molly rolled her eyes. “Sorry. I forgot Little Miss Perfect does everything right.”
I winced at the moniker, but what was so wrong with setting goals and controlling one’s future? For so long, I’d been the only one with any good sense in this family. Dad out in Texas playing cowboy, Molly pretending she hadn’t screwed up the best thing in her life and Grammy planning her own funeral.
Either way, it was time for Plan B, since none of my best laid plans had worked out.
Like real estate. I’d bought the course on the late night infomercial, but nothing was like the book said it would be.
My attempt at writing a historical romance hadn’t done any better.
And if it wasn’t for the stage fright that kept me from returning to the stage, maybe I could get that country music career off the ground.
Either way, I had to figure something out, because I was running out of time.
Molly had struck a nerve when she talked about ticking clocks. It wasn’t that I wanted a baby—I’d given up that dream—but reminders of how little I’d accomplished in my twenty-eight years weren’t welcome. I’d recently read in one of my college alumni newsletters that a former classmate had founded her own clothing company and another was running for a congressional seat in her district.
I needed something like that. Something big.
Grammy patted my back. “Nothing wrong with being a good girl, right, dear?”
Good Girl. Yeah, that was me. Another name might beDoormat. “Never said I was perfect.”
“Don’t forget tomorrow is our monthly meeting with the Pink Ladies. I know you won’t want to miss it, Emily.” Grammy sat across from me.
“Why are you encouraging her?” Molly slammed her coffee mug on the table. “That’s exactly what Emily needs. Hanging out with a bunch of geriatric women. That should do it.”
“Your sister has a hobby, and maybe you can find one, too,” Grammy said with a scowl.
