AFTER I LEAVE IVY’S HOUSE, I drive to Gram’s house for a visit. Since I usually work on Saturday, I don’t get to visit her on the weekends when the rest of my family does, but I cleared my day today so I could fix Ivy’s roof and have a little downtime for myself. Thankfully, all my clients were really cool about rescheduling.
Gram’s house is like the hub of the family; everyone comes and goes constantly. Her house has six bedrooms, so some of us sleep there at random times to keep her company or just to hang out.
My brother Vandal’s sports car, and a tricked-out pickup truck that I think is my cousin Talon’s new toy, is in the driveway when I get there.
As soon as I walk through the back door, I’m met with the smell of baking, because Gram pretty much cooks non-stop. Cookies, pies, stew, shepherd’s pie, lasagna, meat loaf—you name it. She’s either cooked it, is cooking it, or is planning on cooking it.
“Uncle Lukas!” Vandal’s five year old daughter flies across the room and throws herself into my arms. Holding her high, I spin around with her in my arms as she giggles.
“How’s my girl?” I hold her against my chest and plant a big kiss on her cheek.
“Good! We’re making brownies!”
I carry her toward the kitchen, where Gram and Vandal are standing over the center island.
“Brownies?” I repeat. “My favorite.”
Vandal nudges me with his elbow. “Yeah, not those kinds of brownies, man,” he jokes.
I kiss Gram on the cheek as she’s stirring batter in a big bowl, and she smiles up at me. “Honey, what a nice surprise. Why aren’t you working?”
I lower Katie down to her feet and watch her run to the kitchen table to play with her toys. “I had something to do this morning, so I rescheduled everyone to take the day off.” I grab a cookie from a big plate on the counter and turn to my brother. “You’re working next week, right? If you’re going to be out a lot with the band, we’re going to have to hire another artist.”
He nods and runs his hand through his long black hair. “Yeah, I’ll be there. Lemme think about hiring someone else. I’d rather not. I wanted it to be just me and you, and not deal with the bullshit of employees.”
“Language, Vandal,” Gram whispers, nodding over at Katie.
“Me too,” I agree. “But it’s getting really busy. I can’t do everything myself. I think we need a receptionist at least. I can’t keep stopping to answer the phone. It makes the customers nervous.”
“Fuck that, we don’t need someone to answer the phone. Let it go to voicemail and call them back.”
Gram smacks Vandal up the side of his head with the spatula. “Go put a quarter in the jar!”
Vandal rubs the side of his head, where he has a smudge of brownie batter now. “What the fuck, Gram?”
“Stop swearing in front of the baby! Now go put a quarter in the jar.”
Cracking up, I watch him dig around in his pockets. “I don’t have a quarter,” he says. “I only have a twenty.”