Luck of the Draw (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 1)(3)
“Anyway,” muttered Nana with single-minded determination, “I don’t see why you have to have a picture of him on the back of the toilet.”
“It’s Liam’s favorite photo of his father. He likes to look at it when he’s taking a bath. Can we drop this now? Please?”
Kate scanned the room. She should probably serve the cake at some point. Right after she gagged her meddling grandmother and stuffed her in a closet somewhere.
Nana, God bless her, had been poking around the edges of Kate’s ‘situation’ ever since arriving from New Hampshire the day before. And when Nana got a hold of something, she was harder to shake loose than peanut butter from hair. Don’t ask how she knew.
Hanna Andersson girl poured the last of the lemonade into her paper rocket-ship cup. Grateful for an excuse to escape, Kate grabbed the empty lemonade pitcher and pushed through the kitchen door. Unfortunately, Nana picked up a chip bowl and trailed behind.
“No, I won’t drop it. The ladies and I are worried. What’s happened to you, Katie? You were so determined to move on, to start fresh —”
“But he died first!” Kate cut in, pouring way too much pink lemonade powder into the empty pitcher. Oh, heck. Who cared? The kids were already plenty sugared up. Kate held the pitcher under the faucet with shaking hands. “He’s dead. That kind of changes things, you know? I know he wasn’t perfect, and—yes—we had our problems, but he was the only father Liam had. I have to respect that. For Liam’s sake.”
Nana raised an eyebrow and tugged open a bag of chips. “At what cost to you?”
Kate could feel the tears threaten as she searched the counter for her extra-long spoon. “Oh Lord, Nana, I can’t get into this with you, again. I’m fine. We’re fine. Tell the ladies they don’t need to worry.”
“Pfft. Anyone can see you’re not taking care of yourself. You’re not eating right. You haven’t had a haircut in months...” Nana motioned vaguely toward Kate’s hair.
Kate stuffed a hunk behind her ear. Sure, it was a little longer than the shoulder-length page-boy she’d worn it as for so long, but she was still deciding what to do with it.
“Your problem is you’ve been so busy trying to preserve Randall’s memory and pretend everything’s okay you haven’t given yourself time to be angry.”
“Angry?” Kate pushed her hair out of her face again and tried to concentrate on Nana’s words. She spied the spoon and began to stir the lemonade with more vigor than precisely necessary.
“Yes, angry. Why, for six months after your grandfather died I paced this house hurling insults at him. I was so mad at him for leaving me.”
“I know how much you loved Poppy, but I hardly see how that’s anything like—”
“He was my rock, true, but I don’t think it matters. Love. Hate…” Nana waved the empty chip bag and crumbs sprinkled the floor. “They’re really not that far apart. The point is I’d built my life around that man. I couldn’t see how I could make it work without him. But, apparently, the Almighty could. ‘Cause here I am.” She flicked the bag toward Kate. “And here you are. So get angry and get on with your life. Take some time to figure out what you want to do.”
“What I want to do,” Kate shook her head and put the spoon in the sink, choosing to ignore the neon pink dribbles that spattered the counter, “is get through this damn party without discussing this anymore.”
Nana pursed her lips. “Well. There’s no need to swear. I get the hint. We’ll talk later.”
Kate rolled her eyes. “Nana, I know you want to help, but I don’t—”
“Kate! There you are.” Betsy pushed open the kitchen door and stepped forward. “Here. Let me get that. Thirsty crowd out there! Oh, and Cindy wants to know if the cake will be gluten-free, because she brought sorghum flour cookies to share just in case.” She took the pitcher and disappeared back into the living room.
Kate wiped her hands briskly on a dishtowel, ignored Nana’s pointed, questioning look and returned to the fray, letting the door swing closed behind her. She stepped over a girl crawling on all fours and nearly collided with the leggy, Nordic-looking nanny with the low-cut top and generous cleavage. The nanny apologized. Or at least Kate presumed she did, not actually recognizing the language being used. The nanny’s smile was brilliant and white and could only be expensive and imported.
“Are vee having de kek soon?” nanny asked, blinding Kate again with her teeth. “Vee av an—ow do you say?—appoint-mont?”
“Cake! Yes! Yes. Good idea. I’ll serve the cake now.” Kate whirled back toward the kitchen where Nana was already ripping open a package of paper plates.
“All I’m saying,” Nana continued, as if Kate had never left the room, “is it’s better to be a widow when you’re young and attractive than when you’re old like me.”
“What?” Kate gaped at Nana and reached to pull the cover off Liam’s rocket ship cake. “Where is this even coming from?”
“I’m just saying if you were my age, you’d have to accept you’re going to spend your remaining days alone.”
“Surrounded by family who loves you.” Or at least tolerates you. Hmm. Kate stuck the plastic astronaut figurine on the cake about where she figured the cockpit would be. The cake was a little lopsided and Kate had accidentally dumped the food coloring bottle into the exhaust-plume frosting, so it was really vivid, but Liam loved it. That’s all that mattered. Liam loved orange.