35. Epilogue
Epilogue
Ten Years Later
Monty
“Sock? Puppet? Where are you guys?” I hissed, dropping to my knees to check under the bed for the millionth time. They were nowhere in sight, and the last thing I wanted was for Mom to have a meltdown.
My ears are still ringing from the last time they went missing, when she found them swan diving into the rice bin.
“What are you doing down there, Monty?”
“Nothing!” I exclaimed, suspiciously yanking the comforter back down and climbing to my feet.
“Uh-huh,” my mother said as her critical eyes scanned my bedroom.
“Don’t you have to leave for your spa day soon?”
She glanced down at her watch and cursed.
“I’m canceling.”
“You can’t cancel. It’s your tenth wedding anniversary,” I said, easing her out of my bedroom and closing the door behind me. “Dad would be disappointed.”
“I can never relax when we go to the spa together because he talks too damn much.”
I rolled my eyes.
She’s one to talk. She talks just as much as him!
“It’ll be perfect, Mom. You guys will spend the day at the spa, have a little lunch, and go shopping on me,” I said, slipping her my prepaid debit card that my weekly allowance was kept on.
“Monty… how much you got on this little card?” Mom asked with a hand on her hip.
“Around $150.”
“One fif—here take this back. That’ll barely cover lunch,” she said, handing the card back to me. I scoffed and slipped it into the back pocket of my jeans.
“This wouldn’t be an issue if you found somewhere more affordable to eat.”
“I swear you act like you grew up on stamps,” she said under her breath.
“What are stamps?” I asked curiously.
“My point exactly,” she commented.
“Montana Gianna Ramsey!” my dad yelled from somewhere in the house.
He only calls me Gianna when I’m in trouble. My goose is not only cooked, but it’s deep-fried.
“Ooooo, you’re in trouble,” my mother taunted childishly. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything,” I lied.
“That Man Over There doesn’t call you by your government name unless you did something.”
“Hold on. Is Dad in trouble?” I asked, raising a brow. She only called him “That Man Over There” when he had to sleep in the guest room.
“He didn’t do anything wrong. But he’s so damn old that he wouldn’t remember if he did. I can milk him for all he’s worth today.”
I shook my head.
“He’s not old,” I argued.
She stared at me blankly and asked, “Then what would you call it?”
“He’s… he’s… um… he’s mature.”
“He qualifies for senior citizen discounts at chain restaurants. He’s old as dust.”
“That’s rude.”
She winked at me.
“Good thing your father likes me rude. You better go see what your dad wants. You’re sitting here judging me and you might not have a tablet in a few minutes.”
Oh, God. Please don’t let Dad take my tablet. He might forget to return it like last time. I had to go an entire month without it!
A voice crackled over the intercom.
“Montana Gianna—my office—now.”
“Tell That Man Over There that I’ll be impatiently waiting for him downstairs,” she said before bailing on me, which sucked because she typically ran interference when I was in trouble. You’d think she’d be the strict parent, but she was a pushover. It was Dad you had to watch out for.
I journeyed through the mansion until I finally arrived at his office.
“It’s fine. He’s just an old, crochety man like Mom says.”
I knocked on the door and waited for him to respond.
“Bring your ass,” he commanded. I rolled my eyes and regretted my mother’s influence on him.
“Here goes nothing,” I whispered, opening the door and poking my head in. “Hi, Daddy.”
He snorted and waved me in.
“That ‘Hi, Daddy’ shit isn’t going to work on me.
Sit down,” he said, pointing at The Chair of Doom in front of his desk.
It’s where Mom and I had to sit when we were about to get chewed out.
Usually, she’d get an earful about going on elaborate trips with her friends and ditching him for long stretches of time. As for me? It could be anything.
He glared at me, and instead of meeting his judging gaze, I stared at the picture of him and Mom grinning on the island they’d crash-landed on years ago. I dreamily sighed as I thought about their passionate office romance and how their love saw them through the worst of times on the island.
I wish I could have a love like that someday.
The best part was that Dad purchased the uninhabited island a few years ago and named it after my mother.
It was called Tori Island, and they took a yearly pilgrimage to the island with minimal supplies and the clothes on their back.
I thought it was ridiculous, but they always returned crispy, slimmer, and in love two weeks later.
“Are you missing something, Gia?”
“Mmmmm. I don’t think so,” I replied with a shrug.
He shook his head solemnly, and I knew I had to come clean.
“I can’t find Sock and Puppet.”
“Well, they happened to find my golf bag,” he said, spinning in his office chair and grabbing the bag. He set it in front of me. I peered at the mesh side pocket and sure enough, my albino ferret, Sock, and my black ferret, Puppet, were nestled in there, resting peacefully.
“Uh-huh,” I replied, sitting back against the chair.
“Uh-huh? Is that all you have to say?” he growled.
“Not really.”
“Let’s hear it then.”
“No, thank you.”
“Don’t be shy, Gia.”
“Well… technically they wouldn’t be in your golf bag if you left your clubs in the garage like Mom asks you.”
“Get out,” he said, waving me off. “And take these rank ass bendy straws with you. I can’t believe your mother allowed you to get those vermin. My office smells like an outhouse.”
“That’s probably because you farted,” I teased, picking up my beloved pets.
“I swear to God I will ship you off to boarding school,” he threatened.
“Mom wouldn’t allow that, and you know it.”
He smacked his lips and ran a hand through his salt-and-gently peppered hair.
“I know. I’m full of shit. You know I wouldn’t send you away, baby. Just make sure you latch their cages properly. I don’t want them getting into the rice bin again. Your mother nearly screamed the roof off the house.”
“You’re telling me. Oh, what did you do to Mom?”
He peered at me curiously.
“What do you mean?”
“She told me to tell you that she was waiting for you downstairs, and she called you That Man Over There.”
“What the hell?” he mumbled, gazing off into space. “I don’t remember. But I had to have done something for her to call me That Man Over There. Don’t worry about it, Monty. I’ll buy her something extra nice with a lot of zeros in it today. Be good for your nonna.”
“I will. Have fun.”
A few minutes later, Sock and Puppet returned to their habitat, and I waved my parents off with my nonna beside me.
“Okay, Chef Gia. What are you whipping up today?”
“Don’t worry about it, nonna. Just sit back, relax, and watch me work my magic.”
I ran to the kitchen, washed my hands twice since I’d handled Sock and Puppet, and donned my favorite apron. I disinfected the countertop before retrieving the recipe book from the pantry. I flipped through the book and beamed when I found my next challenge.
“Tell me a story, Nonna,” I insisted, separating egg whites into a copper bowl.
She smiled softly.
“You want a story, huh? Have I told you about my sister who stole my man?”
I gasped dramatically.
“Your sister did what?”
She sat on the stool beside me and proceeded to tell me how her sister was a hussy who stole her man and was now sleeping with the fishes.
I smiled and started beating the meringue for my Baked Alaska. My family was a little crazy, and sometimes a little extra, but I wouldn’t change them for the world.