Page 50 of Just the Tipsy
The restof the afternoon is pretty much perfect — just enough clouds drift in front of the sun to keep the temperature warm, but not scorching, and we all hang around, having a few drinks and snacks while we talk or float in tubes on the water. It’s nice to not need to be anywhere or to feel like I have to do anything.
Soon, we get a text that dinner is ready and head to the dining hall where we’ll be eating. Bianca pulls on her swimsuit cover-up, to my chagrin, and takes my hand on the walk over. We sequester the dogs in the gated area behind the building to keep them away from the food.
The food is laid out, buffet style. Thankfully one of my aunts or uncles put out labels about allergens so Bianca won’t have any problems. We load up our plates with food and find a free spot.
“This is so good,” Bianca says, almost in awe.
“Yeah, we have a lot of good cooks in the family.” I take a bite of macaroni and cheese. It’s definitely Nana’s recipe. I’m not sure what she does to it, but it tastes better than any mac and cheese I’ve had anywhere else. She’d never tell me what her secret is if I asked, though.
“If there’s anything all of us love, it’s food,” Mom says, appearing over Wes’s shoulder. “Can I sit?”
“Yeah.” Wes scoots over a little so Mom can take the last spot at the picnic table.
“Poor pups,” Mom says, looking over my shoulder.
I turn to look where she’s looking and see Big Bubba standing near the glass door, his nose pressed to it. He looks miserable.
“We can’t have a repeat of the ham incident,” I say.
“Ham incident?” Bianca asks.
“Hamincidents,” I say with a laugh. “Because at least once every two years, Big Bubba makes sad eyes at someone during Thanksgiving or Christmas, they let him in, then somehow he eats the whole ham.”
“An entire ham?” Bianca turns and looks at Bubba too, and he wags his tail faster. “But how? That’s several pounds of meat.”
“I honestly don’t know. I wish I had the chance to give him a scan just to see how his anatomy works,” I say. “I’ve never known a dog who could just inhale stuff and digest it without much of a problem.”
“Speaking of the dogs,” Mom says. “We have that board meeting for the shelter soon. It’s more of a party, really, since it’s Elizabeth’s granddaughter’s birthday.”
I blow a breath out of my nose as subtly as I can so she doesn’t latch onto my emotional reaction versus the actual problem. My good mood from today goes flying out the window. Who is Elizabeth? Why should I care about her granddaughter’s birthday?
“I don’t think I’ll go to that,” I say. “I’m still not sure if I want to be on the board.”
Which is technically not a lie. I’d want to go as long as it was actually focused on getting things done. But this just sounds like a thinly veiled social gathering with a bunch of people I’d never hang out with voluntarily.
Mom sighs and puts her spoon down. “Don’t be ridiculous. Bianca, don’t you think he would be great on the board?”
Bianca’s eyes widen and she glances at me. “Um, I’m sure he’d be great, but only if he wants to. I’m not really sure what it involves.”
“It’s no big deal,” Mom says with a shrug. “Just a few meetings a few times a month for an hour or two. I just think we need a vet on the board.”
“Dr. Healey will be on it, won’t she?” I take a bite of my biscuit. Dr. Healey is one of the other vets in the practice, who’s been there forever.
“But she might retire soon.”
“She can be on it until then,” I say once I swallow. “Or even better, after. Seems like something she’d enjoy doing in her retirement.”
We stare at each other for a few moments. Why did she have to bring Bianca into this to ask her opinion? Probably because she assumed that Bianca would go her way to stay on her good side the way Catherine would have. A sick feeling burrows into my stomach. I love my mom, but this shit drives me crazy.
“Itwouldtake up quite a bit of your time, and I know that you’re in those early stages of dating. I’m assuming it’s fairly serious.” Mom looks between us, dabbing her lips with a napkin. “We’ll discuss more later.”
She’s just assuming we’re “fairly serious”? At least she’s dropping the topic.
“I haven’t really had the chance to get to talk to you, Bianca,” Mom says, smiling at her. “So you’re a model?”
I don’t remember telling her that, so she must have been asking around about her. Or worse, she’s Googled Bianca and will do a terrible job of hiding it.
“I was.” Bianca pushes some potato around on her plate. “I’m taking a break from it now and doing social media for Stryker Liquors.”
