“Yancy, you stay away from Kerry McCoy.” My voice had risen several octaves.
The last thing anyone needed was Yancy Dawson meddling.
“Yes, Dear.”
But I knew that Yancy stayed out of nothing. A sneaky suspicion crawled into my brain that this trip was nothing more than a ploy to get Kerry and Keegan together so that perhaps I would somehow be forced to move back to Hell. The only part of the scheme cooking in my
mother’s brain that didn’t make sense was that Kerry didn’t live here permanently as far as I knew.
“Yancy, what time is your appointment?”
“Oh, ten-thirty or so. You don’t have to go with me you know. Just having you here when I return makes all the difference.”
She had risen from her seat to place her coffee cup in the pure white porcelain sink next to mine. She didn’t rinse it out. She didn’t turn it upside down as we were supposed to. What was wrong with my mother?
She was up to something, I knew but I didn’t have the time to find out what when the front door slammed closed.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
The person who had entered through the front door like a cat with its tail on fire was Gemma. Streaks of mascara stained her cheeks. Her hair was disheveled and her eyes were red rimmed from crying. Yancy and I stopped in our tracks in the front foyer staring at Gemma’s dishevelment.
“What’s wrong?” We both asked at the same time.
My sister’s face registered surprise at seeing me. “Gabby,” she screamed before running into my outstretched arms.
I held Gem and comforted her. “What is it?” I asked softly caressing my younger and much smaller sister’s back.
“I made a huge mistake in marrying Troy,” she sobbed against my chest.”
“I could have told you that,” Yancy replied sarcastically. “Sneaking off to Las Vegas behind your own mother’s back, breaking her heart…”
My mother’s voice trailed off as Gem and I both snapped, “Yancy, enough.”
Gem and I went to the den and she told me about the argument she had with Troy before storming out of the apartment in Detroit and driving to Hell to the safety of her mother’s home. They had fought because Gem had put Troy’s golf clubs in the basement storage room when the clubs home were and would always remain in the hall closet by the front door for easy access. According to Troy. Gemma had decided that they were in her way in the closet.
“Gem, this is nothing. The first year is the hardest while you learn to live together.”
“Gabby, his golf clubs are more important.”
Yancy piped up as she entered the den with a cup of hot chocolate for Gem. My mother thought that hot chocolate could fix anything even broken hearts.
“Honey, men are just not like women. They aren’t as sensitive. I’m sure that Troy in his own way loves you more than his golf clubs.”
“Yancy,” I snapped, “Will you stop?”
“He’s took my baby Gem to Detroit. That city is nothing but bad.”
Gem and I rolled our eyes at each other and I turned back to my sister. “Gem, you need to call Troy and tell him you’re safe.”
“I will not. He can call here if he’s concerned about me.”
“Where else would she go but home to her mother?” Yancy asked. “He knows where she is.”
“Gem, you have to work things out with him. You can’t run away anytime he does something you don’t like.”
My sister being the baby was spoiled. She would ruin her relationship if she kept running home to Yancy.
“Gabby, after six years of marriage can you say that it gets any better? Any easier?”