“Maman!” Carol cries. She’s closest to the kitchen door, and jumps up to run and see what’s going on.
“?a va, ?a va.” We all hearMamangroan. “I dropped the cake.”
She comes into the dining room, gesturing at the smear of pink icing that’s streaked down her shirt.
“I’m so clumsy,” she mutters in French. “Lucille, why don’t you help Carol clean up the floor, and I’ll start serving everyone ice cream? I haven’t managed to drop that yet, at least.”
The distraction seems to have eased everyone else’s edginess a little, but I’m getting twitchier by the second. It always gets worse when I’m in the same room asPapa. He sets me off until I can’t focus on anything but the need to move—away from him, preferably.
I’m not going to force Molly to sit here eating ice cream with a bunch of people who are too chicken shit to even talk to her, and I’m not going to force myself to stay still until I explode.
I jump up from my chair. “Actually, we have to go,Maman. We have...a thing.”
Mamangives me a look filled with more understanding than I expected. “Are you sure?”
I nod, then motion for Molly to follow me.
“Peace out,” I say to the room at large, pausing in the doorway to sweep my hand in an overdramatic wave. I don’t even look atPapa.
“C’est...C’est...bon,” Molly squeaks. “Merci!”
We don’t speak again until we’re standing out in the driveway, waiting for our ride back to the hotel to arrive.
“So...what the hell was that?” Molly demands.
“That,” I answer, “was my family.”
