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“No, I didn’t.”
Granny looked at me. “Gabriel.”
“Yes, Granny.”
“Since when are you dating the maid?”
“I’m not dating the maid. Cia is an artist.”
“An artist?”
“Yes, she paints portraits.”
“I could paint yours if you want,” Cia offered but Granny waved her hands dismissively.
“Why would I want a portrait of me. It’s offensive enough that I have to see my reflection when I wash my face.” Again she turned to Charlie. “Remember how pretty I was when I was younger?”
“I do… you were the prettiest girl I ever saw.”
“Aww… Daddy, that’s so sweet,” my mom said beside me.
“It’s true…” Granny said. “There was no one prettier than me, and look at me now. I look like an old hag.”
Charlie chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Granny asked in a grumpy tone. “You’re even older and uglier than me and I have to look at you all the time.”
It was hard not to laugh, and luckily Charlie had a good sense of humor.
“We are just a pair of old goats,” he said and took her hand.
“What did you say?” Granny held a hand to her ear.
“Nothing,” my mom interjected. “Mom. Come on, let’s get you some more champagne.”
When we moved away, my mom turned to us. “I’m afraid Brent, Janet, and the kids won’t come today. I invited them all, of course, but when Brent heard that you two were coming, he declined.”
Cia actually looked relieved, but I felt anger in the pit of my stomach. The man was a moron for rejecting Cia, especially now that we, his family, all knew about her anyway.
“His loss,” my mom said with a sad smile to Cia. “I thought we could have a barbeque in the garden.” She swung her hands toward the French doors.
“I love burgers and hot dogs,” Cia whispered to me.
“Don’t count on getting any,” I whispered back. “It’s not that kind of barbeque.”
As I had predicted, my mother’s idea of a barbeque meant French cuisine prepared on a grill.
We had delicious fish with asparagus and white sauce as an appetizer, followed by a tender chicken marinated in French herbs, with small potatoes and vegetables on small spears, accompanied by a delicious red wine sauce.
The desert was crème brûlée, Steve’s favorite.
All the while through eating the three courses, everyone asked Cia questions about her past, her art, and her plans for the future.
“I’m going with Gabriel to Missouri.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” my sister Melody said. “I’ll come and visit you.”
I smiled at her. “You’re all welcome to visit us and actually, Mom and Steve, we have a favor to ask before we move.”
