Chapter 1 Vanessa
Vanessa
The first time I fell in love with something, truly in love with it, was when I was quite small. My parents bought me something called an Icee, and I became obsessed.
I made my mom and dad completely nuts with my finagling.
For an entire summer, I managed to beg, borrow, or steal an Icee nearly every day.
I loved white cherry the best, but I would drink regular cherry, or coke mixed with cherry.
Even blue raspberry was okay in a pinch, and if there weren’t Icees, I would take a Slurpee.
I wasn’t unreasonable. As long as I got my Icee, or some reasonably close facsimile, I was fine.
By the end of the summer though, I had decided that Icees, while good, weren’t really that great.
I started drinking Orange Juliuses instead.
That was the first of many things I obsessed over and then burned out on, given enough time.
In some things, I’m the kind of person who loves hard and then leaves.
Not people, of course.
I loved Jason deeply, and on the day he died, I still loved him just as much, even if it was a little different in depth and nature. Sometimes, though, sometimes people can start to rub a little, too.
I’ve always adored my mother-in-law. She’s all the things my mother isn’t. She’s attentive and kind, she’s soft and gentle, she’s intuitive and sweet. She and my mother do have one thing in common, though.
They’re both always watching when they’re nearby.
And now that Trish has been living with us for a while, it’s kind of starting to get on my nerves.
I still love her, and I notice the great things about her every day, but I’m starting to wish we had a plan to find her a new place to live so I could have just a little space.
I’m also really tired of Trace and Bryce having to share a room so that she has a place of her own.
Since we have a four-bedroom cottage, combining the boys made sense.
I also didn’t hate the idea of Bryce being forced to sleep in with Trace.
I knew I could count on my younger son to report back to me how Trace was doing.
But as the weeks pass and Trace continues to stay away from the temptation of smoking pot again, I hate the strain it’s putting on their friendship. And the loss to my own sleep.
Bryce is banging on the door to their shared bathroom loudly very early this morning. “Trace, your hair’s perfect already. Just open the stupid door.”
“You can’t come in here to poop,” Trace shouts. “It stinks things up so bad I can’t even breathe. You’re just going to have to wait. I thought I was going to die the last time you did that.”
Both of the boys have started using that word again—die—notable the first few times I heard them say it, because I avoided using it casually for years after Jason’s death. I think it’s probably a good sign that they aren’t afraid of the word anymore, but it still startles me most of the time.
“Come on, man. Just blob the mousse in there and get out already.”
“Mousse?” Trace is laughing. “You think I’m a lesbian from the 1980s? I don’t use mousse.”
“Trace,” I raise my voice. “That was a rude thing to say.”
“Mom, calm down,” Trace says. “What’s rude about it?”
“Lesbians in the 80s used mousse?” Bryce arches one eyebrow.
“I think everyone in the 80s did,” I say. “He could’ve just said ‘I’m not a woman in the 80s.’”
Bryce goes back to banging. “Let me in, or I’ll take a dump in the trashcan in our room.”
“Bryce Merrill Littlefield.”
Bryce rolls his eyes. “I won’t really, Mom. Come on.”
Trace finally opens the door. “Alright, already. Geez.” He tosses his head. “Go on in, you big baby.”
Trina stumbles out of her room, blinking her eyes. “Why’s everyone yelling about poop?”
“You aren’t even dressed?” I throw my hands up in the air. The next few moments are spent helping Trina catch up after waking up so late. Thankfully, with Trish’s help, we even get my daughter’s lunch packed in time for Trace to take her to school with them.
“Mom, don’t forget the team meeting,” Bryce says as they head out.
“Shoot.” Trace winces. “I forgot to ask before, but Blaine asked if we could teach her how to use a hurley. I told her we could later today.”
I frown. “Nine-year-old next-door-neighbor Blaine?”
“Do you know a lot of other Blaines?” Bryce smirks.
“At her age?” I ask.
“You think she’s too old?” Trace’s brow furrows. “I didn’t get started until this year. You can learn, even late, trust me.”
“I was thinking she’s awfully young to be taught by a teenage boy.” I’ve seen how the girls at school look at him. I can’t help wondering whether Blaine asked because she has a crush on one or the other of my sons.
“I said I’d help too,” Bryce says. “But why’s that bad?”
I shrug. “It’s not, I guess. I’m surprised she wants to learn.” And that Trace would agree to help her. He’s not usually very nice to younger kids.
“It has been pretty cool to learn, and I like being good at it.” Trace swallows. “I like it, and I thought she might too, okay?”
Part of me wonders whether he’s just happy to be good at something again after his injury and subsequent retirement from football fame back home. It might not be the best reason to help someone, but it’s not the worst. Who am I to tell him no if he wants to do something nice?
“Sure,” I say. “That’s kind of you boys.”
Once the kids are gone, I meet with Natalie to go over the remodel budget updates. The numbers are a little depressing, but they aren’t catastrophic.
Natalie looks downright glum about it, though.
“Why does it always cost so much more than you think?” Natalie’s the fretter among us.
I don’t think I realized that the reason she always planned trips was because without knowing the details, she stresses and can’t enjoy them, until the last few years when I offered to help.
I know it now, for sure. “It’s going to be fine,” I say. “I always knew it would be at least ten percent, but possibly as much as twenty percent more than the budget, so I made plans for that.”
“You’re smart,” Natalie says. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“What’s Samantha saying about the barn?”
Natalie can’t help her smile. “Well, she’s excited that it’s nearing completion earlier than we thought, but every time I make a joke about what happens when it’s done, she turns bright red. I’d say she’s excited and nervous about Richard. I actually kind of love it.”
“You’re so mean,” I say.
Natalie shrugs. “One of life’s greatest joys, needling the people you love to watch them blush.”
“Agree to disagree,” I say.
“Oh, I think you could do with a little more of that with Trish.” Natalie folds her arms. “If she rearranges the flowers I put on the entry table of the big house one more time, I might lose my mind. So I’m guessing she’s been doing some little things that bug you, living in the same tiny house.
If I had to live with my former mother-in-law, I’d probably be in prison, staring down homicide charges. ”
I chuckle. “Trish is fine,” I say. “We’re getting along just fine.”
“You sure?” Natalie arches one eyebrow.
I hate when she’s right, so I doggedly insist that she’s not bothering me at all. “I do have a meeting this morning that I’m not looking forward to. I hate that we have to raise funds for every single thing the GAA does.”
“Don’t they have sponsors?” Natalie frowns. “Maybe we could just donate money, take it as a business write-off, and call it good.”
I groan. “I wish. I think these women actually like doing these fundraisers.”
“I bet they do,” Natalie says. “The PTO moms took a lot of pride in doing a great job at all the projects. It was also their chance to socialize.”
“Yeah, well, that might be fun if any of them liked me.”
“Kind of your fault for stealing the super-hot coach.”
“Shut up.” But I’m smiling so she knows I’m kidding.
“What’s the upcoming fundraiser? A silent auction? Another carwash? I could make rolls or pies for the next bake sale.”
“It’s a pumpkin patch, of all things. Apparently these are gaining in popularity in Ireland.” I sigh. “We’re all on rotations to make sure the pumpkin vines get watered, because Ireland has decided to have the first dry fall on record. . .ever, apparently.”
“I mean, I did hear that September’s usually the driest month of the year.”
“Yeah, but here, dry means five inches a month instead of nothing,” I say. “And besides, it’s almost October, so it can rain again any time now.”
Natalie points at me. “You take that back. We’re just happy to have a break in the rain, and if Samantha hears you wishing it would rain more, she might kick you.”
I know it’s hard to manage the constant influx of water from the sky with horse hooves being what they are.
“Well, anyway, I’m stuck going over today to move the sprinklers, and that’s after I suffer through that dumb meeting we’re having just to decide how much we’ll charge and how we’ll split the rotations for selling them or whatever.
And they’re talking about trying to do a haunted house as well, because a pumpkin patch alone isn’t enough.
I’m not even sure a producing diamond mine would make enough for the GAA.
You can guess whose idea it was to do yet another fundraiser. ”
“I’m sure Naomi will settle down. She sounds like she was hot for teacher, so she’s probably just nursing her disappointment.”
“I don’t think she even knows,” I say. “I mean, we aren’t hiding it from the kids, but we aren’t exactly advertising it, either.
I told Jack to tone down his defense of everything American and specifically of me.
It won’t help the boys to get along if everyone knows, and it won’t help Naomi like me either. ”
Natalie stands. “Well, be careful with that. The only thing worse than their jealousy will be their anger that you hid it, even though you’re not doing anything wrong.”
I stand too, gathering all my paperwork. “I guess so, but the idea of announcing it to them makes me want to cry.”