Part 20 (2/2)
I pressed the latch, and the top popped up. Inside was a miniature ocean with plastic whales. ”I see. But I still don't...”
”You have to open it all the way,” Jen directed.
So I did. The little egg shuddered, and the scene came to life in my hand, the tiny whales swimming and the tiny waves churning. Totally against my will, I was enchanted.
Relieved, Ca.s.sie opened hers. She got a pond with little ducks, which was almost -- but not quite -- as cool as mine.
”I love this,” she told them. ”Thank you. I'm going to take it to client meetings and play with it when I get bored. Which will be all the time.”
She started her toy again, and as she did, Mom leaned forward, suddenly alert.
”Something wrong?” I asked her.
”I don't remember seeing Carrie wearing a ring yesterday.”
Ca.s.sie looked up from her ducks with a quizzical expression.
”Ca.s.sie,” I corrected wearily. ”And she has lots of jewelry, Mom. She can't wear all of it every day.”
It wasn't a lie exactly. I wasn't even sure why I'd told it. But it was none of my mother's business where the ring had come from, and if she pressed the issue, Ca.s.sie could simply lie and say...
”It was a Christmas present from Devvy,” Ca.s.sie said.
h.e.l.l and d.a.m.nation. I mentally subtracted one of the packages under her tree back home.
Everyone else, of course, was all ears about this news. Amy jumped up to have a closer look, and only then did I realize which finger Ca.s.sie was wearing the ring on. It didn't mean anything; it wasn't a diamond; we weren't doing that. But did she have to wear it on that finger, in front of my mother? Mom took the etiquette books so seriously that she probably didn't wear white underwear after Labor Day, and she wasn't going to care that people wore rings everywhere nowadays. Including some places I didn't even want to think about.
”Let me see that,” Mom said brusquely, moving Amy aside.
Ca.s.sie patiently let Mom study the ring from all angles. ”It's beautiful, isn't it?”
”It looks expensive,” she said. ”I thought you didn't have a job anymore, Devlin.”
I scowled at her. ”We're appealing. We'll be back to work any day now. And how is it your affair anyway?”
”You shouldn't be giving such expensive gifts to a girlfriend. People will talk.”
Of course they would. Talk was the only thing most people of my acquaintance were good for. But it was none of their business either. ”Well, she is my girlfriend.”
”That's not funny.”
Ca.s.sie started to excuse herself, but I spiked her in place with a look. ”You're right, Mom; it's not. Which part are you having the trouble with? 'Girl'? Or 'friend'?”
”You know very well what I mean, young lady. It's...”
”Immoral?” Connor supplied.
Jen backhanded him hard in the stomach. Fortunately for him, he was getting a little paunchy, so it couldn't have hurt much.
Mom frowned -- not at the violence, but at the interruption. ”Indecent.”
”Indecent,” I repeated. ”I see. It's indecent. Ca.s.s?”
”Devvy?”
”Will you answer a question? For my mother's edification?”
”Shoot.”
”Are you wearing underwear right now?”
Ryan spat coffee several feet across the living room. For her part, Ca.s.sie was dumbstruck.
”It's a serious question,” I a.s.sured her. ”My mother has really specific ideas about decency. When I was little, she said it wasn't decent to go around without underwear, even if it was August.”
Ca.s.sie relaxed visibly. ”That's interesting. My mother said it wasn't decent to say the word 'underpants' in front of company. So I don't know if we should even be having this conversation.”
I didn't try to hide the goofy smile. G.o.d, I adored her.
”But since you ask,” she added sweetly, ”yes, I am. My very best underpants, because it's Christmas.”
My brothers and sisters-in-law collapsed in snorting, hiccuping laughter. Dad looked as though he wanted to laugh too but didn't want to pay the price his wife would charge him for it.
Satisfied, I turned back to Mom. ”Does that clarify your thinking?”
”You get this from your father's side of the family,” she said darkly.
Dad cleared his throat. ”Now, Martha...”
”Stay out of this, Patrick.”
For a moment, we all thought he was going to stand up to her. It happened as often as once or twice a year. But the moment pa.s.sed, and before anyone could stop him, Dad had grabbed his coat, hat, and keys again.
No one spoke until the sound of the Oldsmobile's motor faded in the distance. And when she did, she said exactly the wrong thing.
”I hope you're happy now,” Mom growled. ”You've ruined Christmas.”
Was that all it took nowadays? Exasperated, I turned to my brothers for help -- and got none, which I would remember. ”Me? This is your fault, Mother.”
She gave me a severe cla.s.sroom stare over the rims of her gla.s.ses. ”I don't mean just you. I mean both of you. You and...Carrie.”
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