A Toast to the Good Times - By Liz Reinhardt Page 0,64

dinner together? I admit, it was weird at first, but what does Paisley care? She’s got Calvin sitting under the tree, looking oh-so-dapper in a Christmas sweater, and he got her that fantastic bible with her name engraved on the cover.

What more could my weirdo sister ask for?

“Not Mila.” Paisley rolls her eyes at my denseness. “Mila is great. It’s Mom.”

“What about Mom?” I ask. I thumb through the stack of burgundy cloth napkins, counting off the number that we need for the place settings.

“I heard her talking to Dad earlier. She said that she didn’t care if I went on the mission trip. That I was free to do whatever I wanted.” Paisley drops the pile of forks onto the long, rustic table with a clamor.

“And…?” I’ve got nothing.

“I think they’re, like, trying to use reverse psychology on me or something. I mean, there’s no way they’re giving up that easy.” She whips a piece of hair up to her mouth and nibbles for a second before she snaps out of it and tosses it back over her shoulder.

I ponder her theory for a minute while I set a napkin at each place at the table.

“Paisley, maybe they just want you to be happy?”

“No way. They’re up to something.” Her eyes are wide; she’s totally convinced.

But I can’t shake the feeling that they’ve probably had this same talk before.

About me.

And maybe that’s why they didn’t fight me more over the money. Maybe that’s why they never chased me down in Boston or begged me to come home. Maybe they just wanted me to find my way on my own, whether it meant making a new life there, or finding my way back home.

“Listen, Paisley, I think, and you don’t have to take my word for it, but I really do think that they want you to do what you feel like you need to do. And I think they’re just giving you the room to do it.” I put an arm around her shoulder and give her a quick squeeze. “Screw up. Love Chad. Marry Calvin. No, wait, seriously, don’t marry Calvin.”

Paisley snorts and smacks my arm.

“Just do what you’re little squirrelly-heart tells you to do, and Mom and Pop will be happy. Or, at least learn to deal.”

Paisley looks around me and into the kitchen at Mom showing Mila how to put the lattice on top of the apple pie.

“You think?”

I nod.

Paisley locks her eyes with me. “Landry?”

“Yep?” I break her intense stare and grab a stack of the good plates off the sideboard and start arranging them on the table.

“Don’t break that girl’s heart.”

I can’t get mad at Paisley for saying it, but I also can’t look at her, because there’s no way for me to guarantee that I won’t do exactly that, and it scares the shit out of me.

***************

“Rusty, we can’t thank you enough for coming,” Mom says.

She stacks his plate on top of the tower she’s already carrying and makes her way to the kitchen. Rusty made it over just in time for dinner, and surprised the heck out of Mom and Dad. I probably should have let them know beforehand that he was coming by, but it slipped my mind.

Apparently, Rusty has, understandably, been lying low since Karen passed. Not only because he’s been neck-deep in grief, but because his pride wouldn’t allow him to visit with my parents, knowing all they’ve sacrificed for him.

The smiles and hugs from Mom and Dad when he walked through the door made my little Grinch-heart grow to near-bursting.

“My pleasure. Thanks for the invite,” Rusty says before he gives me a quick, knowing nod.

“Dessert?” Mom calls over her shoulder. The entire table chimes in in agreement.

“Ma, let me help you with all of that.” I push myself away from the table. Mila starts to follow suit, but I brush my hand over hers to stop her. “No worries. You just sit and relax. I got it.”

I follow Mom into the kitchen where she’s already cutting into the array of pies she and Mila worked so hard on all day. There’s a row of them across the island counter top.

“Sugar Cream?” she asks, like she actually needs to.

“Two slices, please.” I smile at this whole homey holiday scene, my mom, my favorite pie, my girl at the table with my family and friends, who seem to be on their best behavior. .

“She’s good for you, you know?” Mom says as she slices into a lemon meringue.

I nod, because