She smiled wryly. “Amos Flynn? Interesting. Haven’t seen that smile in a while.”
“You’re not subtle.”
“Not trying to be, kiddo. Glad festival planning is going well.”
“It is. Better than I thought.” Even though Ingrid had always been my confidant in the family, she was a Brewer and Amos was a Flynn. But still. A feeling of recklessness surged through me. “Feels kind of silly I’ve ignored him all these years just because our great-grandads got in some pissing match and the entire town decided to take sides.”
Ingrid paused in picking at the cheese and vegetable platter I’d brought over and turned toward me. Her expression was hard to describe. Maybe torn?
After glancing toward the living room where Dad cheered something, she lowered her voice. “There’s a lot of silly things about it.”
“What do you mean?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
I wanted to press, but that never worked with Ingrid. I needed a Hail Mary before she started asking me things about Amos that I wasn’t ready to answer. Bo wanted to wait until after the holiday to tell people aboutGood Morning, USA,but…
“Want to know something Dad doesn’t?”
Ingrid closed the distance between us and smiled like a giddy teenager. “I live for knowing things your father doesn’t.”
“Good Morning, USAis planning to come to town for the Christmas festival.”
Ingrid’s eyes widened. “You’re shitting me.”
“Bo’s freaking out.”
“I’m freaking out,” she hissed. “We need to deep-clean Red’s. And finally fix the light on the sign. I’m almost done with that stained glass piece of the diner, so I’ll get that finished for the window.” She paused. “I’ll ask Joe if I can put business cards for my glass work near it. I might be able to get my online store off the ground.” Hope shone in my aunt’s eyes. “What if I make enough money to finally take that European vacation?”
A lump formed in my throat. She’d been daydreaming and planning that vacation for as long as I could remember. Ingrid had created an Etsy store last year and made a ton of stock, but she’d had a hard time with the visibility. A national stage for her beautiful art could be a game-changer for her.
“Don’t tell Dad. He can’t keep a secret even if his life depends on it. I’ll get the green light to share it in a couple of days.”
“I won’t. I love knowing something huge he doesn’t.” She closed her eyes and smiled. “This is going to fuel me for weeks. Who needs the Fountain of Youth when there are secrets from siblings?”
I laughed. “Thanks.”
She pressed her palm between my shoulders. “This could be huge. Not only for Red’s, but for the town. It could help a lot of businesses.”
No pressure.
AMOS
Mickey: That’s the most horrifying thing I’ve ever seen. I don’t think I can look at a turkey again.
Amos: I’d say the same, except I know how good Mom’s turkey is. I could eat it every day. What’s your favorite Thanksgiving food?
Mickey: Pie is the only acceptable answer.
Amos: Pumpkin pie? Apple pie? Pecan pie? Maple pie?
Mickey: Yes.
Amos: LOL pie slut. So you’re a sweets over savory guy?
Mickey: Usually, though this is tasting pretty good.
Mickey: [photo of cheese]
