Page 23 of Just a Plot Twist
If that means tracking down honeycomb-shaped hanging topiaries at a party supply store in Denver, I’ll do it.
We discuss the venue and guest list before Grandma neatly removes several sheets of paper from her notebook. “Here,” she says, handing the tidy stack to me. Like Attila the Hun handing over his favorite sword. “I’ve made you an abbreviated set of notes so you don’t forget anything. I would be devastated if things weren’t perfect.”
I swallow hard. No pressure.
“And please don’t ask anything of Sophie.” Grandma frowns. “She’s got too much on her plate as is.”
“So do I,” I can’t help adding. “You know Inez? The city manager? She’s about ready to pop with twins, so a lot of her responsibilities have fallen to me. I have a lot to do.”
“About ready to—” Grandma stops short and shudders. “Really, Claire, must you be so crass?”
“Sorry,” I mumble, then brighten. “But don’t worry, the extravaganza is going to be perfect.”
“It will.” Grandma’s eyes shine brightly. She’s like a grumpy Miss Manners—complete with the disaffecting, royal air. And Grandpa is just Grandpa—former military. Rigid and refined. A would-be politician, like one of those generals who run for office.
I get another text from Benson. He took a selfie with the dog he’s taking care of. It’s adorable. They both are.
Benson’s more handsome than adorable, but you get my drift.
My grandma disapproves of my phone etiquette right now, thus the little huff. I look up.
She stands. “Now that you’ve peeled your eyes away from that mobile device, I need to say one more thing.”
“Two more things,” Grandpa amends. He turns off the television and comes to stand next to his wife. They’re rigid, like they’re facing a battle. Atilla the Hun and…whoever his partner in crime was.
I can only blink.
“Yes, two things. First of all, the swans?” In the depths of her eyes, she’s searching my very soul, pleading out a pleasing answer from me.
“It’s expensive to order swans, Grandma.”
She tilts her head back and looks at the ceiling. Grandpa goes still, as if he’s bracing himself for the fallout.
“We’ve discussed the price,” she says. “I told you it didn’t matter.”
Once upon a time, prices did matter to them, which is why they had such a hard time when they lost the wind-powered energy field bid to Sebastian Tate. My grandparents had put their whole souls into acquiring the land and permits to build a wind farm near Longdale Lake, but Sebastian and Oliver wouldn’t have it. The Tates managed to convince the powers that be to sell them the land instead.
Vernon and Patricia Hanson are savvy businesspeople, and they managed to turn things around. You can’t keep the Hansons down for long.
That doesn’t mean they’re going to fully forgive the Tates.That’snever going to happen.
The swans have been a thing. The venue’s party planner refused to order them, saying something about how they can’t personally deal with liveanimals onsite. When Sophie heard about Grandma’s outlandish request, she shamed me for even entertaining the thought. “Swans are terrifying!” She moaned. “You don’t have to bend over backwards for something this ridiculous, Claire.”
But I do. She doesn’t understand it, but I have to help my grandparents, if I can.
I offer a reassuring smile. “I ordered the swans. And they’ll be at the venue at six o’clock sharp. I was hoping you’d change your mind. You never know what a pair of swans will do.”
“The risks are what makes it exciting!” Grandma croons and Grandpa rolls his eyes. “It’s the deepest desire of my heart to have them there,” she says. She gathers her fists together against her chest. “I was nervous to ask you for fear you hadn’t done it. But I’m relieved you have. It will be magical.”
It hurts that she thinks I hadn’t followed up on the swan thing like she’d asked. Of course I did. I don’t take the mantle of favorite granddaughter lightly.
“Can we quit with the swan talk and move on, please?” Grandpa asks.
Grandma pats his arm and loops hers through his. She’s beaming. With a couple of swans in her future, nothing can damper her mood now. It’s nice to see because she’s been more irritable than ever lately. “Oh, you tell her, Vernon.”
“Tell me what?” Nerves shunt through me.
He clears his throat and draws up his back so that it’s straight as a board. “You need to work with Norm Davies.” He adjusts the collar of his tucked in, blue checked button-down. “He’s got the know-how and connections.He’s guided Phyllis Nimm and Martin Montague and many more to win big. It’s time you got serious about this, Claire.”
