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Kalie’s eyes blaze. “He . . . you . . . tell . . . argh!”
Grace takes the plate of pancakes and contemplates placing them back in the warming drawer. “There’s no need for breakfast to get cold while she tries to complete a sentence.”
I fork a grape from the fruit on my plate and pop it into my mouth, wondering if Kalie’s going to call her father instead of waiting for me to spill the tea.
She whips out her phone. I confide to Grace, “This won’t take long.”
Grace begins indistinct muttering and serves our breakfast. Sliding a stack of pancakes in front of me, she begins, “You just had to rile her up?”
I speak loudly enough for Kalie’s father. “It’s payback.”
“For what?”
“For Uncle Keene.”
“Why?”
“Because in no way was I prepared for that meeting this morning.”
The second the words leave my mouth, Kalie’s head snaps in my direction and a toothy grin spreads across her face. “I’ll tell her, Daddy. Okay. We’ll see you tonight. Love you too. Bye.” Her voice is a throaty purr when she remarks, “Well, well, well.”
Grace sends her a disapproving glare, easily reading the she-cat look Kalie’s prone to wear as she’s often been on the other side of it. “Kalie, let Laura talk about it when she’s ready.”
Maybe it isn’t that time to heal wounds, but perhaps that time helps create memories that ease them. A spark lights inside of me that prompts me to tease Grace. “You do realize how much you sound like Mama scolding me and Jon when we were kids?”
Grace turns her narrowed blue eyes in my direction, but it softens when my dimple pops out. “Maybe it’s because you had time to absorb more of her lectures than the rest of us?”
Grace reaches over to a bowl of fruit, plucks a grape, and tosses it toward my face. “Are you calling me old?”
I catch it one-handed before popping it into my mouth. “I wasn’t, but thanks. These are good.”
Kalie lifts her drink and toasts my athletic food prowess before teasing Grace. “Impressive sounding like Aunt Cass. Few of us can pull it off.”
“A true compliment,” Grace agrees before turning off the burner and joining us on the other side of the counter.
“It is.” I give my cousin a quick head-to-toe perusal. For not being biologically related to us, she could easily pass as Kaylie’s fraternal twin. My lips curve when I recall Uncle Phil’s exasperation at our last family dinner. “Why is it so many of the next generation of Freemans and their progeny look like Marshalls?”
Aunt Emily was laughing so hard her drink flew out of her mouth. As it was prone to, it landed on Uncle Phil, who shot her an exasperated look. After she managed to calm down, her eyes skated over her oldest, Jenna, where she was cuddled with her husband. The light shone off Jenna’s golden hair and that of Jenna’s daughter.
Phil waived her off—his trademark move when he doesn’t want to be dissuaded from a point. “I mean, look at Grace, Laura, Jon, Kalie, Chuck? And that reminds me. How in the hell did Nicole end up with light eyes? Corinna and Colby both have dark eyes.”
Just as I girded myself to fall on the family sword to attempt to explain genetics to Uncle Phil, Mama winked at me before handling him the way only she can. “As head of this motley crew, I would have thought you would have realized the miracle in your exalted presence.”
“What’s that, Cass?”
“Their eyes are all identical to yours.”
Uncle Phil preened even as Uncle Keene’s head thwacked the table repeatedly amid the laughter that ran around it. Keene pleaded with his sister, “It’s been almost thirty years. Must you encourage him?”
Mama replied, “Of course. He’s my brother, just like you are. I encourage both your bad behavior equally.”
That’s when the howling really started between the generations.
Kalie snickers, “I recall Mama always saying I might look like Aunt Cassidy, but Daddy reminding her we all know who I grew up to act like.”
Together we all chime, “Aunt Corinna,” before bursting into laughter and toasting the fact we’re family.
Even if not all our relations are bound by blood.