Binding the Shadows (Arcadia Bell #3)(41)

“Mama—”

“I want to know what her plan is. I’m not going to let her spoil Christmas for Jupe.”

“I thought you expected me do that,” I joked lamely. A second after it was out of my mouth, I wondered if it was too soon. But she waved her hand dismissively, almost as if she was embarrassed.

Adella hoisted her purse higher up on her shoulder. “Here’s the difference. If Yvonne shows up for Christmas, there’s a good chance she’ll put everyone in a foul mood. And apparently the only way you could do that is by not showing up, because all Jupe did today was whine that you weren’t with us.”

Ah, crap. I was getting verklempt again. It was like some sort of sensitive housewife had taken over my body and was sitting around watching Lifetime movies and Hallmark commercials.

“So you’re stuck with us now,” Rose said. “Which means that Yvonne is your problem as much as she is ours. Be prepared to play defense if she’s planning on showing up Christmas Day. Legally, she has the right. But I’ve got this ring now, which means for once in my life, I’ve got the upper hand, and I plan on using it. You with us?”

The three of them looked at me expectantly, as if it was the most serious request in the world. As if they were asking me to get a pitchfork and join them in pursuit of the village monster. And at that point, to be honest, they probably could’ve asked me to murder Mother Teresa.

I gave Rose a decisive chin nod. “I’m your girl.”

• • •

I briefly worried that Lon would want to go along to talk with Yvonne, too. But when Adella relented to drive her mother—“I’ll wait in the parking lot while you talk to her,” Adella told Rose—he didn’t even act as if he’d considered it. I asked him if he was okay. He took a moment to answer, but when he said he was, I believed him.

So while Adella drove off with Rose to the Village to talk with Yvonne at her hotel, the Holidays walked back to their cabin. And after I changed into a less salacious outfit, a T-shirt and yoga pants—which had never undergone a single minute of yoga, just for the record—Lon and I made our way across the driveway.

Connected to the main house, Lon’s three-car garage would make a perfectly nice studio apartment, with polished floors and central air and a couch salvaged from his parents’ place. I’d napped on that couch once, and I have to say it was way more comfortable than Kar Yee’s. It was also where we found Jupe, sitting cross-legged as he squinted at a book of Pontiac engine diagrams. An old TV sat upon a workbench to one side, tuned to a channel that was showing The Nightmare Before Christmas. This was Jupe’s little home-away-from-home, as he’d claimed the first empty bay as a hangout area, and his rusted-out ’67 GTO sat on blocks in the second bay. The bay at the far end housed Lon’s silver Audi sports coupe, rarely driven.

“Whatcha doin’?” I asked, plopping down on one side of him.

“I can’t figure out what this is.” He held up a rusted metal disk to Lon. “I found it under the car, like it had fallen off of something.”

Lon inspected it for a few moments. “I think it’s part of the A/C. Four hoses fit inside those holes to draw in fresh air.”

“Oooh. I’ll put it in the pile with the compressor junk.”

Lon handed it back and sat down on the opposite side of him.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Depends,” he said, turning to Lon. “Am I in trouble for talking to her?”

“I told you no already.”

“Just making sure. Where’s Gramma and Auntie?”

“They went to talk to her.”

“Oh.” He stretched out long legs and tossed the manual onto the floor.

“I don’t want you to get your hopes up, Jupe.”

He shrugged. “I know. But it’s not wrong to hope. That’s what you’ve said before—not about her, but it still applies, right?”

Lon made a frustrated noise.

“What do you think, Cady?” Jupe asked, long-lashed eyes looking up to mine.

“God, I don’t know.” What was I supposed to say here? “I guess I’ve heard too many stories about her. She makes me feel angry for the two of you, and a little jealous, too.”

His nose wrinkled up. “Why would you be jealous?”

God, was I really allowing myself to be dragged into this? “Because she’s beautiful and—” And what? What was I going to say? That, hey, your father probably f*cked her brains out God knows how many times over the years? He’d been in crazy in love with her, and—unlike Lon and I with our you’re-my-favorite-person code—the two of them probably professed their undying supermodel-photographer love, before everything went bad. They’d slept in the same bed, and maybe he even cooked dinner for her, like he did for me.

And, then, the big one: she gave birth to you. Because of that, Lon and Yvonne shared a bond that Lon and I didn’t have. How does a person compete with a couple’s history that would never be left in the past?

But I didn’t say any of that. I just said, “I’m jealous because you both loved her.”

“You don’t understand,” Jupe said. “She’s messed up, bad.” He tapped his temple. “Wrong in the head.”

“I know,” I said. “And I’m sorry.”