The Sister (The Boss 6)

“No. Take your shoes off,” I told him, kicking my Marc Jacobs espadrilles onto the plastic carpet protector by the door. I popped off Olivia’s pearlescent blue Mary Janes before setting her on her feet. I took her hand and led her toward the slider. “Grandma? We’re here!”

“You are?” a voice called from inside. I helped Olivia up the step into the dining room. The ancient floor shook as Grandma hurried out to us. She pulled me in for a tight hug. “I thought you would have stopped at the Ambassador with your mom and her fella.”

“No, Neil needed a little break,” I said, and heard him make an offended noise behind me.

“Oh, it’s okay, Neil,” Grandma said, moving on to hug him before he could react to stop her. “Becky can be a little much, sometimes. I’m her mother. I know that.”

“Yes, well.” He cleared his throat then leaned down to pick up Olivia, presumably because her feet had touched the ground for more than two minutes. “This is my granddaughter, Olivia.”

“Isn’t she a little doll?” Grandma smoothed Olivia’s downy white-blonde curls before adding, “I was so sorry to hear about your daughter. That’s a terrible thing, losing a child.”

“Yes.” Neil cleared his throat. “Thank you for the lovely plant you sent to the funeral home.”

“It was no trouble at all,” Grandma assured him.

I was impressed that Neil had remembered it. If the purple azalea hadn’t been blooming in our conservatory at the moment, I wouldn’t have.

“And you’re feeling better?” she asked. “Now that you’re out of the hospital?”

Neil’s inpatient treatment for his suicide attempt had happened a year ago, and we didn’t really talk about it much, anymore. It wasn’t that it was a taboo subject, but it was far more personal than he would have preferred to share with a relative stranger—or a stranger who was a relative.

Still, he handled the question with grace. “Yes. And again, I have to thank you for the lovely card.”

She’d sent him a card in the hospital? He’d never mentioned it, but it didn’t surprise me. It was such a grandma thing to have done.

Grandma’s eyes widened suddenly, indicating a mental gear shift. “Say, have you eaten, yet?”

“Nope.” I shot Neil a triumphant look. “Can we raid your refrigerator?”

“Well, heavens, yes.” She bustled into the kitchen, and we followed. “Are you gonna stop at Pat’s before you head out to the cabin?”

“Who’s Pat?” Neil asked for clarification. His voice had the same tight, bewildered note to it that I usually only heard when he was around my mother.

“The grocery store. We’ll need to grab food and stuff for the cabin.” I went to the cupboard and got down a sippy cup and a plate that had been through more than one grandkid, and some plates for Neil and me, while Grandma pulled things from the refrigerator.

She dropped a large Country Crock container on the counter and popped the top off. “There’s ground baloney in here, and I got chips. I think I’ve got some 7-Up on the porch. Let me go check.”

Neil peeked over the top of the container warily. There was no way he’d ever eaten a ground baloney sandwich in his life. “I assume the green is—”

“Pickles,” I informed him cheerfully.

It was kind of fun being on this side of the culture shock, now and then.

Chapter Three

Since my graduating class had been all of a hundred and twelve people and over half of them had scattered to the winds, it didn’t make sense to have a huge to-do at a big venue. On Friday night, Neil and I left Olivia with my mom at my grandma’s and drove to The Michigan House, a restaurant and bar in downtown Calumet.

“Do I look okay?” I asked as we stepped out of the car. I stood on the sidewalk and straightened the lace trim at the neckline of my black silk and white polka dot Dolce & Gabbana dress. It looked a little retro, cool enough for the editor of a fashion magazine but not too showy.

Neil put on his most patient face, though it appeared quite labored. “Beautiful as always, darling. Just as I told you five times in the car, and ten at the house and—”

“Okay, point made.” I shook my hands at my sides to calm my nerves. “I just haven’t seen most of these people since graduation day. It’s a little intimidating.”

“Once you get inside and start catching up with people, I’m sure you’ll see all your worries were completely unfounded,” he promised. “Now, I, on the other hand, am about to walk into a gathering of people in their twenties and spend the entire night explaining that I’m not someone’s father.”

I took his arm and gave him a little nudge with my hip as we started across the street. “Oh, don’t be like that. I’ll be with you the whole time, and I’m not going to let anyone forget that you’re my trophy husband.”