Free Heartwood by L.G. Pace III Page B

went back to work. Where are you working?” Molly asked, and I have to admit my curiosity got the better of me. I turned and saw a cryptic mask bloom on his face.
    “Consulting. With a private contractor.” He wasn’t exactly curt, but Molly was intuitive, and took the hint that the conversation was over.
    “Now, Molly. Tell me all about your gown. The suspense is killing me.” My mother gushed, then put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, should we step away so Joe won’t hear?”
    Molly gave me an amused side glance and waved a dismissive hand. “No need. It’s all Greek to Joe.”
    Mom’s non sequitur was anything but. This was a perfect example of my mother’s special gift. She intuitively swooped in and changed the subject when things were on the verge of escalating. And her tried and true strategy worked like a charm. Molly began to talk about antique lace and the entire conversation digressed into a discussion about centerpieces and song selections. Some folks may have viewed Felicia Jensen as just a politician’s wife, but mom was always twice the diplomat my father was.

 

     

     

     
     
    “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SWEET Pea!” I called over the chaos in the busy arcade. We’d arrived five minutes before and between the black lights and the loud music I was already working my way toward a headache. My niece, the birthday girl, snatched her present out of Joe’s hands and ran off toward the ball pit.
    “That’s my angel.” My sister-in-law, Robin, drawled apologetically. “This place desperately needs a Margarita machine.”
    As if to prove her point, a tweenage boy slammed into me, and I stumbled and nearly dropped Logan.
    “Hey!” Joe snapped, steadying me.
    “Watch it.” I crowed.
    When the boy turned, his face was practically in my cleavage.
    “Sorry” He mumbled directly at my boobs.
    “I weep for the future.” I murmured and Joe huffed out a laugh.
    Robin rolled her eyes. “Me too. Now give me one of those twins. I want to huff what’s left of those baby pheromones before they age into gremlins like mine.”
    “Where’s Mason?” Joe asked, undoing the stroller straps and passing Eva to Robin.
    “Off playing mini golf or some shit.” Robin replied, clinging to Eva as if she had a visible halo.
    Joe stuffed his hands in his pockets and shifted from foot to foot, looking around at all the ski ball and shooter games. Evidently, the thought of my brothers off reclaiming their youth somewhere nearby was more than he could bear.
    “Well go on. Go find ‘em.” I said, and his face split in a wide smile. His white teeth glowed in the dark and I couldn’t help but laugh hysterically.
    “He’s a giant kid.” I snorted as Joe trotted off into the crowd.
    “Speaking of giants, look how big you are!” Robin gasped as she held Eva out in front of her. “I could just eat you alive.”
    “Tell Aunt Robin to stop being creepy.” I said to Logan, who grinned at me as if we were sharing a private joke. “Tell me we have a quiet booth somewhere.”
    “Keep dreaming, Molly-girl.” She replied. “But we do have several tables reserved. Come on over. Granny’s holding down the fort.”
    “Oh, the twins are here!” Granny cried, waving her flabby arms in the air. “Give me that boy this instant!”
    “Hello to you, too, Granny Hildebrandt.” I handed her Logan who kicked his legs enthusiastically.
    “Oh, Molly. Don’t be so dramatic.” Mom said, standing up to give me a hug. “I got all the mason jars for the centerpieces.”
    “You did?” I asked, picking up a slice of pizza I was sure to regret eating.
    “Yep. We found quite a deal.” She replied.
    “Thanks, mom.” Between Joe’s parents insisting on paying for the reception and mom and granny tracking down all the decor, they’d saved us more than enough money to afford whatever honeymoon Joe had booked for us.
    “Where’s that handsome man of yours?” Granny asked, propping Logan on the table in front of her.
    “Off playing