“I had a feeling.” He looked proud of himself. Hmm.
“Shallow has its benefits, though,” I said innocently. Not taking my eyes off my tray, I tilted my head to the side. “Sometimes just a little bit, just barely inside, like really slow? It can drive a person positively crazy, you know?”
His tray shook slightly.
“I mean, anyone can just thrust it right in there, but when someone can do it really slow? And shallow? Making sure that everything gets covered, not missing a single spot? That’s almost as good as when it’s really deep.”
His tray shook again, this time more than slightly.
I lifted my tray out of the green dye, then bobbed it lightly back under, leaning over as I did, making sure to give him a peek down my shirt. “But that’s just me.”
“Not just you,” he grunted, and I chanced a look at him. His hands were gripping the tray, white knuckles standing out stark against the purple dye. Forearms bunched, shoulders tight, jaw clenched.
His eyes met mine, and I drew in a breath. “I had a feeling,” I whispered, plunging my tray back under the green.
Egg dyeing was fun.
“Okay, so explain this to me like I’m an idiot,” Natalie said as we sipped Bloody Marys from the Sunset Porch.
“Gladly,” I answered.
“You hide the eggs on the side of a mountain.”
“Yes.”
“And then you tell toddlers to go find them.”
“Basically.”
“Won’t they just tumble off into the Catskills?”
I snorted into my cocktail. “They’re not hidden on rock ledges and on top of trees, for God’s sake.”
“I’m just saying, it’s weird.”
“They’ve been doing the egg hunt on this lawn for a hundred years—I think they’ve got this.”
She plucked her celery stick from her drink and gave it a chomp. “It’s not how I planned on spending my Easter, that’s for sure.”
“And how exactly have we ruined your Easter? What else would you have been doing?”
“First of all, it’s a holiday. I like to spend my holidays under the covers and under Oscar. Or over Oscar, depends on how tired he is. Secondly, my mother is livid that I’m not in the city right now, she threatened to call highway patrol and have me bodily brought back home. There’s only one reason I was allowed to leave my island.”
“And what, pray tell, is that reason?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yup. When she found out you were up here, actually venturing out of your cave on a holiday, she said mazel and made me promise that if your self-imposed ban on holidays was over I’ll bring you for Thanksgiving this year.”
I chomped on my own celery in answer.
“Oh no, Trudy already called dibs on Thanksgiving,” I heard from over my shoulder, and I turned to see Roxie slipping into a rocking chair next to us. “She said, and I quote, ‘Tell that little shit if she’s going to be spending all this time in Bailey Falls, then she’s required to come to my house for Thanksgiving for the best gravy she’s ever tasted.’?”
“Well, that’s sweet, but—”
“She also told me to tell you she still thinks you’re low on iron and she wants you to start taking these.” She plunked a bottle of vitamins down on the railing. “You need the color, she says.”
“Oh my God, it’s April! How about we not talk about November yet?” I said, waving at the bartender and ordering a cocktail for Roxie as well. “Please thank your mother, and your mother, for the invites and the pills, but I’m good.”
Both Roxie and Natalie had told me over the years that there was always a standing invitation to their homes on each and every holiday. And each and every holiday I’d thanked them politely, and declined. They knew why, and wisely chose not to press me on it. Frankly, it was all I could do to not fly out of this rocking chair and head for the hills, as it was. Holidays made me nervous at best and a wreck at worst. Holidays were empty for me when I was a child, and as an adult they always felt like just a reminder of those special days I’d missed out on. Can you imagine what it’s like to have to sit through a Christmas party in elementary school, surrounded by kids who were getting everything they wanted under their Christmas tree, when the closest I’d get to any kind of celebration were the stale snickerdoodles I was eating at that very party?
One foster mom had tried her best to do something fun each year. Her drunk husband tried his best to ruin it. Honestly, it just always felt like a waste of a day to me, and I’d made it my practice to avoid holidays whenever I could.
But this year was different. This year I was working over the holiday, at a hotel that was famous for its Easter brunch. And the egg hunt. And those blessed hot cross buns everyone kept going on about. And I had friends in this town, friends who wanted to be with me. So here I sat, on a grand porch in a grand hotel overlooking a grand egg hunt on a lawn set into the grand Catskill Mountains.
The Bloody Mary was excellent. The company was first-rate. And I wondered if any of the kids picking up the purple and green dyed eggs hidden in the grass knew just how verbally stimulating that egg dyeing had been.
I grinned into my drink.
“So where’s Archie? I figured he’d be right here with you, watching the festivities?” Roxie asked.
“With me?” I asked, choking a bit on tomato juice. “No no, he’s down there, supervising the eggs and the toddlers. Natalie is convinced they’re all going to fall off the side.”
“Nonsense, I came up here when I was a kid to look for eggs,” Roxie scoffed.
“You say that now, but what happens when—”
“No one is tumbling off the side of a cliff today, for God’s sake.” I sighed, rolling my eyes.
“Stranger things have happened,” Natalie said, and I stuck my tongue out at her.
“See, he’s right there with— Oh boy.” The three of us looked out onto the lawn and saw Archie and Leo, covered in egg yolk and each holding about thirteen baskets, with Oscar bringing up the rear, wearing the most lopsided bunny ears I’d ever seen. “Jesus, I don’t think I’ve ever seen your guy smile that big.” I laughed, nudging Natalie.
“I have, but usually when I’m about to sit on his—”
“No no.” Roxie shook her head. “I’m literally begging you to not finish that sentence.”
“I’m in full agreement,” I added, fist-bumping Roxie. Natalie let out a huff and went back to her Bloody Mary. The three of us sat there a moment, watching the guys playing with the kids, Archie and Leo still trying to wipe off the egg yolk. Archie looked happy, relaxed, caught up in the moment and fully at ease. I smiled just watching him.
“So how is Archie anyway?”
“Fine. He’s fine,” I replied, my gaze still fixed on him. And as though he could feel me watching him, he turned just then and gave me a small wave. I waved back, my grin growing toothier by the second, just as I could feel Roxie and Natalie’s eyeballs boring holes in the sides of my skull. “I mean, I assume.”