fingers. “By the way, Evelyn,” he began, “that thing that you dropped off at Alexandra’s office back during Christmas time, it might make a nice wedding present for us.”
Another subtle shift in the air alerted me to Ethan’s uneasiness although nothing on his body suggested his discomfort.
“What thing?” Grandma Evelyn asked.
“You know what I’m talking about,” Roderick insisted. “One of your famous concoctions. You’re always brewing something up over at the house like a little witch. A good witch though. Like the white witch from the Wizard of Oz.”
My parents waved and made their way over to us while Gia trailed behind them like a forgotten stepchild. I wanted to go over, wrap my arms around her, and then kick them as far away as I possibly could. She looked as though even if she’d searched the corners of the globe, she’d still be unable to find a reason to care.
“Alexandra, dear, this is wonderful,” my father complimented. “I am so proud of you and the work that you have put in for Roderick’s campaign. Now, you see,” his eyes landed on everyone on the circle, “that is how a true wife works. She’s undeniably supportive in her husband’s endeavors, no matter what they are.”
“What if she disagrees with his cause?”
Instead of Gia, my father’s usual adversary, it was Ethan who asked the question.
“Excuse me, son?” my father asked. “And you are?”
Roderick snickered and pulled me tight to his side. “This is Dr. Stewart, Mr. Miller.”
“Oh yes.” My father extended his hand. “Forgive me. I didn’t recognize you.”
“But back to the topic at hand,” Roderick said. “The thing that you brought to Alexandra say, around Christmas Eve.”
“You mean the punch?” I asked. “What about it?”
“What punch?” My father asked, once again making eye contact with everyone.
Gia finally traipsed up to the circle and stood next to Ethan. He smiled and wrapped his arm around her in a half hug. The exchange made me forget, for just that second, everything that was happening around us.
Then, my father’s eyes rounded.
“Are you talking about that…what does she call it…that velvet punch, concoction?” he asked.
My grandmother’s eyes were already on me before I searched for them, and her face was preeminently apologetic although I still had no clue about what was going on.
Five minutes, runners!
I glanced back at the people collecting at the starting line. “We should go,” I announced. “We can pick this up later.”
“Is that what you did, Mother?” My father went on. “Did you try to use that silly love potion crock on my daughter or try to fill her head with stories about being rooted?”
“We should get to the line,” Grandma Evelyn insisted.
“No, Alexandra should hear this.” My father refused to let up on his argument. “A long time ago, before Alexandra and Gia were born, I was in the kitchen with Mother when I found this pitcher in the back of the freezer—”
“I don’t think we need to hear this right now,” Grandma Evelyn interrupted.
Three minutes until starting time!
“When I asked her what it was,” he continued, “she wouldn’t tell me. It wasn’t until I threatened to throw it out that she told me that it was some kind of, I don’t know, ancient love potion that my grandmother and great grandmother had cooked up. It’s infused with some sort of Caribbean herb that’s sworn to be an aphrodisiac.”
I felt my forehead wrinkle with each sentence, but when I looked over at Ethan, he looked as though he was calculating a difficult math problem in his head.
“Hunch punch?” Gia asked. “Wait, does it look like sangria?”
“It looks like sangria,” Ethan confirmed.
“Grandma, didn’t you bring a batch of something that looked like sangria over to my house when I told you that it would be my first time making dinner for Eli?”
One minute!
Grandma Evelyn turned and walked away from the group. Ethan looked up at me, his expression unreadable, but just like before, I had a feeling in my gut that something was very wrong with him.
“We’ll come back to this,” Roderick said, releasing me and walking over to where Eli was stretching and getting ready to race. Ethan turned and followed him, his mind still somewhere other than the venue. Gia and I took our places.
“Hunch punch?” I asked her.
“That’s what I called it,” she whispered. “After Eli and I had a sip of that, it took the heavenly father and the holy ghost to stop us from ripping off each other’s clothes that night. I mean, I know