Page 11 of Personal Foul
Instead, I text my sister. I haven’t been over there all week since Dylan’s taken up so much of my time. I need someone sane who knows my secrets and who doesn’t want to use them to extort things from me.
And I need the simple joy of a tea party with my niece. Plus, I’ll probably get a free dinner out of it.
My brother-in-law Eric answers the door with a smile when I get there. “Hey, Charity. Haven’t seen you in a while. Grace has been asking for you.”
I return his smile and give him a quick hug. He and Hope met when she was a sophomore in college and he was a senior. He’s become the big brother I never had since then, especially since I came to school at Marycliff and get to see them a lot more often than when I lived on the other side of the state.
Hope comes out of the kitchen, Grace running in front of her. “Charity!” Grace squeals, making a beeline for my legs. Except it sounds like “Chawity,” because she hasn’t quite mastered her Rs and Ls yet. I know one day she will, but for now I think it’s adorable.
“She’s been beside herself since I told her you were coming,” Hope says. “I’m glad it only took you ten minutes to get here. She’s been asking when you’d get here since you texted.”
Laughing, I scoop up my three-year-old niece. She wraps her arms and legs around me, squeezing as hard as she can. “Ready, you little monkey?” I ask, and at her nod, I let go and spin around, letting her cling to me for a second before supporting her weight again.
She giggles into my neck. “Again!”
“Okay. One more time, then we’ll sit.” I let go and spin around again, then head to the couch.
“Again! Again!” Grace shouts.
“I’m sure she’ll do it again before you leave,” Eric says, moving to his favorite chair. “But not if you throw a tantrum.”
Grace pokes out her lower lip, but quits demanding more spins, settling into my lap as I sit on the couch.
Hope sits on the opposite end, smiling at me. “I’m glad you came over. I’ve got soup on the stove, and we’re going to make grilled cheese sandwiches to go with it for dinner. It’s not fancy, but you’re welcome to join us.”
“That sounds perfect.”
Grace squishes my cheeks in her hands so I’ll look at her. “Tea party after dinner.” It’s a command, not a request.
“Yes, ma’am.” I make sure to keep my face as solemn as possible.
She nods, then scrambles out of my lap to go to her mom. “Mama, I’m hungry.”
“Alright, Gracie-bear. Let’s go fix dinner.” Grace cheers, clinging to her mom as she stands. Hope glances at me. “Wanna help?”
“Sure.”
This is what I needed. To be welcomed and included. I don’t mind cooking or cleaning when I’m part of the family. I don’t like it when I’m an unpaid servant.
But I don’t have much of a choice at this point.
Hope washes her hands and helps Grace wash hers, then sets Grace at the table with a few slices of bread, the room temperature butter, and a small butter spreader. “Can you help butter the bread, Gracie?”
“Yes, Mama!” She enthusiastically digs into the top of the butter, unevenly spreading it around the slice of bread.
“Good job!” Hope picks up another piece of bread and butters it. In the time it takes us to butter eight slices, Grace has slathered an enormous amount of butter on one slice and a little bit on the next. “You’re getting so good at that, Gracie-bear! Now let’s get out the cheese.”
I move to the side-by-side fridge and pull the sliced cheddar out of the cheese drawer, handing it to Hope. She lets Grace put a slice of cheese on each sandwich.
“Wow, Gracie,” I say, my voice full of admiration. “You’re a great little helper. Are you going to be a chef when you grow up?”
“I’m gonna be Gracie!” she says. Hope and I laugh, which only makes her repeat it again and again.
Eric leans against the doorway. “The soup smells good, and you guys obviously have the sandwiches covered. Gracie, do you want to help set the table too?”
She nods emphatically. I pull out a chair to sit while Eric passes plates and bowls to Grace, who sets them carefully at each place, pausing to kiss my arm after she sets my plate down.
I open my arms, and she rushes in for a hug. Closing my eyes, I let her sweet, little kid softness and easy affection soothe my anger and frustration. It’s hard to be mad when I’m here surrounded by love and warmth and good food.
