Too Good to Be True(104)

“You bet! Have a great summer!”

And with that, my favorite student and his pediatric surgeon dad left, leaving me more bemused than ever.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

“AHAHAHA. AHAHAHA. OOOH. Ahahaha.” Mom’s society laugh rang out loud and false over the table.

“Hoohoohoohoo!” Andrew’s mother, not to be out-faked, chortled right back. From the other side of the table, Margaret kicked me meaningfully, making me wince in pain.

“Aren’t you glad you’re not marrying into that family?” she hissed.

“So glad,” I whispered back.

“Margaret, are you drunk?” Mémé asked her loudly. “I had a cousin who couldn’t hold her liquor, either.

Disgraceful. In my day, a lady never overindulged.”

“Aren’t you glad those days are gone now, Mémé?” Margaret quipped. “Would you like another Rusty Nail, by the way?”

“Thank you, dear,” Mémé said, mollified. Margaret signaled the waiter, then made a mocking toast to me.

“Oh, yes, a toast!” Natalie cried. “Honey, make a toast!”

Andrew stood up, his parents gazing at him with servantile adoration. “This is such a happy day for us,” he said.

Awkwardly. His eyes paused on me, then moved on. “Nattie and I are so happy. And we’re so happy that you’re all here to share our happiness.”

“I know I’m happy,” I muttered to Margs, rolling my eyes.

“Hardly a great orator, is he?” she said, loud enough for our mother to hear. Mom covered with another round of “Ahahaha. Ahahaha. Oooh. Ahahaha.”

The waiter appeared with our appetizers. Looking up, I saw it was Cambry. “Hey!” I exclaimed. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” he said, grinning.

“I hear we’re all having dinner next week chez Julian.”

“If he doesn’t bolt,” Cambry answered, setting down the oysters Rockefeller in front of me.

Julian was in a relationship. Granted, the mere word caused him stomach cramps and a cold sweat, but he was dating, and even he couldn’t find much fault with Cambry, who was waiting tables while he finished law school.

“You hang in there,” I said. “You’re good for him. He hardly ever wants to come over and watch Dancing with the Stars these days. I should probably hate you.”

“Do you?” he asked, raising a concerned eyebrow.

“No, of course not. But you have to share. He’s been my best friend since high school.”

“Duly noted,” he said.

“Grace, I thought the oysters here caused food poisoning,” Mémé bellowed, causing a nearby diner to spit abruptly into his napkin.

“No, no!” I said loudly. “No. They’re great. So fresh!” I smiled encouragingly to the napkin spitter and took a bite as he watched nervously.

“Well, didn’t they just about kill your doctor?” Mémé asked, turning to the Carsons, who were smiling politely. “He was in the toilet for twenty minutes,” she informed them, as if they hadn’t been there. “The trots, you know. My second husband had stomach problems. We couldn’t leave the house some days! And the smell!”

“It was so bad, the cat fainted,” Margaret intoned.

“It was so bad, the cat fainted!” Mémé announced.

“Okay, Mother,” Dad said, his face burning. “Perhaps that’s enough.”

“Ahahaha. Ahahaha. Oooh. Ahahaha,” laughed Mom, her eyes murderous upon her mother-in-law, who was knocking back another cocktail. Personally, I’d never been fonder of Mémé, for some reason. Cambry was struggling unsuccessfully to hide his laughter, and in a rush of warm sincerity, I said a quick little prayer that he and Julian would make it. Even if it meant I had no one to cushion my loneliness, poor lonely spinster that I was.

Perhaps Angus needed a wife. Maybe I could have his little snipping reversed and I could become a dog breeder for people who loved to have things destroyed by adorable barking balls of fur. Or not.

I looked down the table at Natalie. She wore a pale blue dress, and her smooth, honey-colored hair was swept up and held with the kind of clip my own hair ate like a Venus flytrap. She looked so happy. Her hand brushed Andrew’s over a roll, and she blushed at the contact. Aw. Then she caught my eye, and I smiled at her, my beautiful sister. She smiled back.

“Grace, where’s Callahan?” she asked abruptly, her head snapping around to look for him. “Is he coming separately?”

Drat. The truth was, I’d been kind of hoping not to have to discuss it. I hadn’t mentioned my breakup to anyone but Margaret. For two reasons. One, I’d been holding on to the hope that Cal might, well, forgive me, realizing that I was the one for him and he couldn’t live without me. And two, I didn’t want to rain on Nattie’s parade. She’d be worried about me, cluck and pat my back and puzzle over how someone could not want to date her big sister.

Someone other than Andrew, that was.

Lucky for me, I’d just taken a bite of my oysters, so I grinned and pointed and chewed. And chewed. Chewed a bit more, stalling as the oyster was ground into flavored saliva.

“Who’s Callahan?” asked Mrs. Carson, turning her beady eyes on me.