Page 59 of Enemies to Lobsters
I ignore both of them, grinning at Charles and Patricia. “Stop by any time. Mi lighthouse es tu lighthouse,” I say, though I wonder at the wisdom of an open invitation. Diana might want to stuff me in the lobster Igloo after this.
“We’d love to,” Patty drawls. She is all smiles for me—almost too smiley. If I didn’t know better, I’d think those are hearts in her eyes.
Charles clears his throat with emphasis, then turns to my mother. “I don’t believe we’ve properly met. You must be Ike’s sister.”
Oh no. I know exactly how my mother handles empty flattery. She’s spent her life wrangling teenagers and busting chops. As painful as it can be sometimes, my mother is a straight shooter. No phony baloney social interactions for her.
So I’m shocked when she holds out her hand and says, “I’m Shelly. Ike’s mother,” with an almost-smile.
Charles and Patricia take turns shaking her hand.
And I’m absolutely stupefied when Patty says, “We adore your son. Did you know he got a cell tower installed closer to town?” she asks with a grateful nod to me. Charles is nodding beside her when she adds, “Such a fine young man, and just what this town needs.”
My mother stammers, “W-well, thank you.” She’ll have a hard time being combative with people who are praising her son. She has always taken pride in her role as the mother offine young men. The pressure to perform was high. Still is.
Smoke pours from Muffie’s fingers as they fly across the screen of her phone.
“Say,” Charles runs his thumbs under his suspenders. “We never properly celebrated this marriage. Pat, what do you think of hosting a little something to honor the young couple?”
A smile breaks across Patty’s face like a sunrise, and suddenly I see so much of Diana in her. “That would be lovely. We can invite all of their friends. Oh—I know a fantastic tentist. If we schedule this quickly we might have an exquisite fall backdrop. What do you think, Shelly? A little reception to celebrate the kids?”
Diana would want me to put a stop to this. York Patty is so into this idea, though. How can I tell her no?
My mother’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “That would be nice.”
What a big, fat liar.
“Perfect.” Charles pulls out his phone. “Let’s get this on the calendar while it’s fresh on our minds, then you ladies can plan the details together.” He swipes through his phone. “How’s a month from Saturday?”
Diana will want to weigh in on this. I know she will. And if I know my wife, she’d rather send the Red Sox to the World Series than attend her own wedding reception. Unfortunately, both events might be in her near future if I don’t intervene. I suck in a breath. “We should ask Diana about this.”
“Such a thoughtful young man.” Patty smiles with delight. “I’ll get her on the phone.”
Oh no. I want to stop this, but it’s happening. Patty is dialing. Waiting for Diana to pick up. We need a diversion. Someone send in the orcs.
Then Patty smiles. “Hello, Diana. It’s your grandmother. I have something to run by you.” She describes, in appalling detail, the wedding reception that is in the works. Tent possibilities. Theme ideas. Food options. When a York woman makes plans, shemakes plans.
Marlow chooses this moment to deliver our sandwiches. Her ears have somehow enlarged cartoonishly and are pivoting toward Patty’s phone call like old school satellite dishes. She bites her lip, slowly sliding our plates onto the table. So slowly.
“Yes.” Patty grins. “I’m with Ike and his mother now, and they agree that it's a lovely idea.”
Well, I’m a dead man. I can’t hear Diana, but I know the face she’s making.
My mother is wide-eyed, unaccustomed to being steamrolled.
Marlow’s eyes dart to me, full of repressed laughter. She says under her breath, “Someone’s dead meat.”
Chapter 28
Diana
Stevie kicks her feet onto my coffee table, wiggling her perfectly-painted kelly green toenails. “Big deal. Let your grandma throw a nice party. You’ll eat some good food, maybe get some gifts out of it. What’s the harm?”
After I hung up with my grandma this afternoon, I immediately texted Stevie an SOS. She came over as soon as school let out to talk me down, but she’s not getting it.
I slouch beside her, a bowl of Ike’s leftover soup balanced on a pillow on my lap. I’m still not a hundred percent, and this stuff has medicinal properties. Medicinal as in, a dead sexy man labored over this soup and served it to me in bed.Medicinal. “You don’t understand. None of this is real. Wouldn’t you feel like a phony throwing a whole expensive wedding reception and accepting gifts?”
Stevie raises her eyebrows. “Okay, so it’s not traditional. It doesn’t mean it’s not a marriage. Let Patricia celebrate. It might be her only chance.”
