A Curve in the Road(23)

Nevertheless, Alan’s wake is tomorrow night, and they flew thousands of miles to be here. I can’t be inhospitable.

Suddenly, Verna seems to realize that one of them should say something about Alan. “We’re so happy we could be here for the service,” she mentions in a sober voice. “I can’t imagine what you must be going through.”

“Thank you. It’s been a difficult few days.” I invite them into the living room to sit down.

My mother joins us as well. “We’re about to have lunch. Have you eaten yet?”

“Just breakfast at the hotel,” Verna replies demurely as she squeezes her purse on her lap. “But we don’t want to put you out.”

“It’s no trouble,” Mom says. “The neighbors have been very generous, stopping by to deliver casseroles and all sorts of things. I have a pot of soup on the stove.”

“What kind of soup is it?” Lester asks.

Mom blinks a few times. “It’s beef and barley.”

“All right then,” Lester says with authority. “We’ll take you up on your offer.”

Mom manages a smile and returns to the kitchen, leaving me to sit with my in-laws.

Suddenly, I feel very tired. Normally, I would be quick to fill the silence with small talk, but at this moment, I don’t care about making them feel welcome. Their tactless comments about their luck at the slot machines killed any chance of that. All I want to do is take a nap.

“So the wake is happening tomorrow night?” Verna prods.

“Yes, that’s right,” I reply. “Seven o’clock. I’ll get you the address of the funeral home before you leave. Where are you staying?”

I hope that makes it clear that I don’t intend to offer them accommodations here.

Verna smiles sweetly. “We just booked rooms at a charming B and B in town. This whole trip is turning out to be quite a treat! I feel like we’re staying with the queen of England.”

“A treat indeed,” I reply flatly.

Verna inclines her head. “If only it could be under better circumstances.” She points at my face. “Is that painful?”

“Not really,” I say, touching a finger to my cheek. “My legs are a bit sore, though. I was trapped under the dash.”

Lester slaps his knee, and I jump. I wonder if he’s about to ask about Alan’s accident, which I am fully prepared to discuss to the best of my knowledge, but he changes the subject. “Where’s that grandson of mine? He must have grown at least a foot since I last saw him. What is he . . . fifteen, sixteen?”

“He’s seventeen,” I tell him. “He’s a senior in high school now, and we’re very proud of him.” It hits me that I just said we when Alan is no longer here, and I have to force myself to push past that thought. “He’s captain of the hockey team and president of the student council.”

I’m not usually a mother who brags about her child, but I can’t control myself. I want Lester to know what he’s missed out on over the past decade—and what a wonderful father Alan was.

“Is that a fact?” Lester says. “Well? Where is he then? Too busy with hockey and school to greet his grandfather?”

I clear my throat and squeeze my hands together until my knuckles turn white. “He’s in the basement,” I say. “He wasn’t expecting you to arrive until tomorrow. I’ll go get him.”

I rise from my chair and go downstairs, where I find Zack lying on the carpet in front of the television, reading on his phone, while Winston is stretched out beside him with the big plastic cone around his neck. At the sound of my approach, Winston sits up and thumps his tail.

“Hey there.” I pick up the remote control to turn down the volume on the TV. “We have company. It’s your grandpa Lester.”

Zack lowers his phone and regards me with bafflement. “He’s here now?”

“Yes. With his wife, Verna, and your uncle Bruce.”

Zack’s forehead crinkles. “Have I met Bruce before?”

“Once, briefly,” I say, “when we visited them. You were only seven, so you probably don’t remember. But you should come up and say hello. They’re going to stay for lunch.”

“Okay.”

Zack moves to get up, and I wait until he is on his feet and facing me before I fill him in on the situation. “Listen . . . you know that your father wasn’t close to his family, right?”

Zack nods at me.

“This is the first time you’re going to meet them in person since you were little, and I just want to warn you—they can be a bit . . .” I struggle to find the right words. “They can be a bit insensitive sometimes, and I want you to be prepared. Don’t take it personally if your grandfather says something rude. They’re here for the funeral, and we just need to be polite, let the stupid things they say roll off our backs, and get through it.”

Zack’s eyebrows lift, and he seems strangely amused. “Sounds like it’s going to be a time. Don’t worry, Mom. I can handle them.” He taps his thigh a few times. “Come on, Winston. Let’s go upstairs and meet some people.”

Winston gets up and lethargically climbs the stairs, while I say a silent prayer that everyone will behave.