That smile. It was what did me in, every time.
Instead of pouring the rest of the bottle over Patricia’s head like I wanted, I filled her glass and went back into the kitchen and silently screamed, probably looking a lot like an Edvard Munch painting.
Delia kept on stirring as if her life depended on it. I walked over to her and dropped my head on her shoulder. She patted my hair.
“Do you want me to hex her chili?” she whispered. “I have a sleeping hex in my pocketbook that will knock her out for three straight days. She’ll never know what hit her.”
“I might want that for myself.”
She laughed, and I soaked up the sound.
“I just need to get through the next couple of hours,” I said. “I can do it.”
I knew Dylan wanted me to read Patricia’s energy, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to tap into it. There were certain boundaries I never wanted to cross and that was one of them. The toxicity might do me in.
“You can absolutely do it,” Delia said. “I’ll help. She doesn’t like me any more than she likes you. But at least I’m not trying to steal her beloved baby boy away from her. Grab the corn bread, will you?”
I slipped on an oven mitt. “I’ll take that hex now.”
“No way. You’re not leaving me to deal with her alone. Supper’s ready when you are.”
I grabbed a knife to cut the corn bread and Delia pried it out of my grasp.
“I’ll do that,” she said as though not trusting me with a knife around Patricia. “Why don’t you call them in?”
I supposed I couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer. Dylan had already set the table. The food was done . . .
Pressing my eyes closed, I turned around, and took a breath. “Supper’s ready!”
A moment later, Patricia came into the kitchen, followed by Dylan.
“How quaint,” she said. “Eating in the kitchen.”
Dylan pulled out her chair. “No reason to be formal with family.”
With pinched lips, she murmured, “Indeed.”
I checked on Louella. She was asleep on the sofa, drooling on one of the cushions. I didn’t dare disturb her. She’d had as rough a day as any of us. Boo had followed me out and jumped up next to Louella. After a moment he noticed Jenny Jane, jumped back down, and went up the stairs as fast as his little legs could carry him.
Back in the kitchen, Patricia rubbed a cloth napkin between two fingers, frowned, and set the napkin on her lap. I should have set out the cheap paper towels I used for cleaning. That would have served her right for judging.
Delia made eyes toward her pocketbook, silently asking if I wanted to use the hex on Patricia after all.
As much as I wanted to, I didn’t think that would start any kind of truce off right. I shook my head.
Dylan kissed my cheek as he dished out the chili. Several small ramekins filled with toppings already sat on a dark cherry lazy Susan in the middle of the table. Cheddar cheese, scallions, white onion, sour cream, and avocado slices.
We all sat, perfectly civil—Patricia and Dylan opposite each other at the ends of the rectangular farm table, Delia across from me.
I’d found the vintage jadeite chili bowls at the local white elephant sale a few years ago, and I adored them. If Patricia made one crack about them, I was going to come across the table at her, so help me.
“It smells delicious, Delia. Thank you,” Patricia said, shocking the hell out of me.
Louella wandered into the kitchen and went straight to Patricia’s chair and sat at her feet. Patricia leaned down and rubbed the dog’s head, and I swear if Louella was a cat she would have been purring.
“Thank you,” Delia said. “It took second place at the Darling County fair last year.”
“I can see why.” Patricia took another bite. “It should have placed first.” She broke off a piece of corn bread and fed it to Louella, shocking the hell out of me again—for two reasons. The first being the egregious breach of etiquette on Patricia’s part and the second being that Louella actually ate. She hadn’t eaten a thing since I brought her home hours ago.
Delia raised her eyebrows at me.
I shrugged.
Apparently we’d just stepped into the Twilight Zone.
The plan had been to eat first, quiz Patricia second. She had other plans.
“So, Carly,” she began. “I hear you’ve been busy harassing my friends.”
Dylan dropped his head. “Mama.”
“What would you call it?” she asked him. “She’s been interrogating my nearest and dearest. She left poor Hyacinth in such a state this afternoon that she needed a sedative.”
“I hope she didn’t mix it with her gin,” I said, setting down my spoon. “That could be a deadly combination.”
Patricia’s eyes narrowed. “You have no right to judge her.”