“Well, you and August will have a grand ‘ol time with this.” She held up the bottle before setting it on the counter. “No one else in the family drinks red wine.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I would have—”
“Don’t be, he’ll love it. He insists all we ever have is beer in the house for the other two Hartman men…”
Relief washed over me.
“Come on in. The boys got in a few hours ago, they all just caught up with some laughs in the den and…went out.” Part of her update sounded like it was spoken through gritted teeth.
“Can I help with anything? Something smells amazing.”
“That’s just the cupcakes.” Her tone was tired when she referred them.
“Cupcakes?” I almost laughed.
“Don’t go judging a mother, I’ve been making cupcakes for my boys since their third birthday, but I’ve decided today, that they’re too old and probably think their mother is an idiot so I won’t be finishing those. Just letting them cool before I throw them out.”
I washed my hands, sensing that something was off. It was an instinct. When my parents had a fight, they would pretend everything was okay but their tones and certain things they said would give it away.
“That’s too bad, I miss my mother’s cakes.” My mother never baked. And neither of us had much of a sweet tooth.
She stilled. “Oh. Of course, you know what, maybe just this once, I could…”
Worked like a charm.
“Do you mind?” I crossed to them and lifted the sleeves of my ivory shirt. “I could help you finish them.”
She seemed worried, then reached into the cupboard and started handing me a jar and a spatula. “They just need some icing.”
“White?”
“Well, Troy likes chocolate and strawberry frosting, while August prefers Vanilla because he hates food coloring. I wasn’t going to make two batches of everything my whole life, so I switch off.”
“Vanilla, huh?”
“He’s never any fun.”
“Was he ever?”
She considered it for a moment. “I mean not compared to Troy. Or compared to anyone I know, really. He just always preferred his schoolwork and then eventually his job over anything else.”
I frowned just as the front door burst open. A bellowing, that was unfortunately familiar in a weird way came bursting.
“Mom, we’re back,” Troy announced from the door.
She huffed and turned.
What sounded like a duffle bag dropped on the wooden floor seconds before Troy walked the small distance into the kitchen. “Hey, Harp, glad you could make it.” He winked at me and I wondered if he knew anything about what happened between August and me.
“Where’s your brother?” Grace asked.
“Outside on a call.”
She sighed and shook her head.
Troy walked over to the counter where I stood and grabbed a cupcake. He winked at me and seemed like he was going to say something flirtatious until his father walked into the room. “Troy what are you doing?”
“I was just going to the living room to watch game recaps.”
