Page 26 of Road Queens
“No, it’s off-putting. It’s just weird when your parents are friends with your friend’s parents.” Sidney threw up her hands. “I can’t explain it. But there it is. Back me up, Cass.”
“I think it’s nice,” the useless twit replied.
“It can be niceandweird,” Sidney replied.
“I think it’s also, the Millers love to travel,” Cass continued. “What with Amanda’s dad being in the Air Force and moving their family how many times in ten years? Amanda hated being new in town, but not those two. And since her dad just got out a couple of years ago, I think they miss the moving. So Sidney’s folks started plotting these three- and four-week vacations and lured the Millers into their web.”
“Weird,” Sidney reiterated. “It’s weird.”
“You’d rather our parents all hated each other?”
“I’d rather all sorts of things.”
“Ow!” Cass rubbed her arm. “You and the pinching. Cripes.”
Iris’s smile widened like she’d won the lottery. Not a big lottery. One of the little ones where you won a year’s supply of Coke. “See? Just like old times.”
Oh, sure. Cass is suddenly a person of interest in the death of someone she doesn’t know, there’s a cop sniffing around Amanda’s Hole, Manners is on the warpath again, and we’re visiting an incarcerated parent. Totally “old times.”
“You just have a soft spot for Sid’s folks, Mom.”
“And why wouldn’t I? During the ... during all the difficulties, they opened their arms, home, and refrigerator to my girl. For years. A second family.” Iris paused, then came out with it: “In many ways, a better family than the one she was—”
“Stuck with?” Cass interrupted with faux brightness.
“—born into.”
Difficulties.Way to ride that euphemism, Iris.
“Are you still doing your transcripts from home, Sidney?”
“Yup. It’s perfect. I set my own hours, transcribe clinic notes in the privacy of my own bathroom—”
Cass let out a surprised bark of laughter. “Good God, Sid.”
“—and I don’t have doctors in my face all day the way I would if I still had to work at the hospital. I save on gas and don’t have to think about my wardrobe, and I never, ever have to sign a birthday card or cough up my hard-earned moolah for a cake every week.”
“Well, that sounds just—”
“Elaine Benes had the right idea. When every day is someone’s special day, nobody’s day is special.”
“Nice, Mom. Now Sid’s gonna yell aboutSeinfeldfor the next half hour.”
“Don’t be stupid. I can air mySeinfeldgrievances in five minutes.”
“How is everyone else? Is Amanda seeing anyone? Whatever happened to that gal she went out with last year? Mindy? Mandy?”
“Theresa,” Sidney corrected. “Jeez, Iris, you weren’t even close. And it was almost two years ago. Amanda broke up with her, big surprise. She goes through partners like cats through cat litter.”
Amanda’s problems with dating were exacerbated by her profession. She spent twenty hours a day in her building, so her partners du jour were almost always customers. Which made it awkward when she dumped them a few days/weeks/months later.
“Good for her for focusing on her business,” Iris replied. “Is Amanda’s family still doing the Christmas Meals on Wheels?”
“It’s worse than that,” Sidney grumped. “They somehow sucked me into their altruistic nonsense. Gotta give her credit, though; it was kind of fun.”
“Sucked you?” Cass asked, delighted. “Doubt it. I’m betting Amanda casually invited you along—”
“Naw.”
