Ceci nodded and set the tequila down. “Same. I love your brother, Devon, but sometimes.” She shook her head and hugged me.
I laughed as she released me and gestured to the blender. “I have a fix for that. Who wants a frozen margarita?”
“Bless your soul. And is that chips and salsa from Los Amigos?” Ceci asked.
I nodded. “Obviously. Just because I can’t enjoy them doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. And tacos are warming in the oven.”
Jodi blinked rapidly. “I might marry you.”
“Oh good. I was on the market,” I joked. I peered at her. “But…are you okay?”
She sniffed and waved her hand to fan away the tears that glistened. “I’m fine. Really. Let’s have some margaritas first.”
I looked at Ceci, who shrugged. I pointed at Jodi, my voice stern. “You’re not fine. But let’s get some food and drink in you, and then you’re talking.”
Jodi nodded and gave a watery grin, and we got to work pulling everything together. Within minutes we had a pitcher of frozen margaritas ready to roll, and they’d made their plates while I loaded up on a delightful spread of baby food. Sweet potatoes, green beans and bananas for the win. Yay. Feel the enthusiasm.
I led us to the dining room off the kitchen, which looked more than a little desolate now that I’d pulled all the 1980s-era flower pot paintings down. The walls were dark magenta, and the grain of the walnut sideboard, table, and chairs were also stained a deep color.
“This room is depressing,” I commented, suddenly seeing it through their eyes. “Definitely should have left the paintings up.”
Ceci looked around. “I guess you’re right. We’ve spent so much time here that it never occurred to me how dark Gigi kept everything.”
I nodded, thinking about the deep blue walls in the living room and the dingy tan flowered wallpaper in the kitchen. Only the bedrooms upstairs had anything close to redeeming value, with their brightly painted bedrooms and bathroom. Not that it mattered, since you couldn’t see anything up there right now. I couldn’t hold back my groan. “It’s endless, the list of things to do. I swear this house is sabotaging me at every turn. And Miss Betty next door, she keeps insisting I should turn this place into a bed-and-breakfast.” I made a face and poured our margaritas. “She swears it won’t go against the will and the historical society would be good with it. Well, all but Mrs. Withers.”
Ceci looked at me thoughtfully.
I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes at her. “Don’t do that.”
Her eyes widened. “Do what?”
“That,” I said, waving at her face. Whenever she got that look on her face, it meant she was scheming. I knew that she’d hold on to whatever idea it was like a dog with a bone. “Whatever that is, stop it.”
She grinned. “Never.”
I needed to change tactics. “Any word on finding a home for Samson?”
At the sound of his name, Samson appeared and jumped up onto a chair, his little scraggly body shaking with excitement as he surveyed our tacos.
I laughed and shooed him down. “Seriously. I’m still not feeding him.”
“I saw water bowls,” Jodi said. “Plural. One outside, and one inside. He’s getting to you.”
“He’s not the only one,” Ceci sing-songed.
“Shut it. We’re talking about Samson.” How was this going off-track so quickly? I took a gulp of my margarita.
“Give it up, girl. Samson has treated no one, and I mean no one, the way he treats you. He’s yours, whether you want to admit it or not.”
“I could say the same about someone else,” Ceci said out of the side of her mouth.
I swatted her.
“People literally laugh when they see your pathetic sign at the coffee shop,” Jodi continued. “I took it down today.”
My eyes bugged. “What?” I’d put up a “Found” flyer at Daily Dose two weeks ago, certain that someone would claim him. “I’m bringing a fresh one tomorrow.”
Jodi laughed. “I’m just going to take it down. He’s been here longer than you, and when you showed up, it was love at first sight.”
Ceci coughed. “Again, I could say—ow!” she said, rubbing her arm from the punch I’d given her.
“We are not talking about Aaron,” I said. “We’re going to talk about Jodi, because we have consumed tacos and alcohol. So,” I turned in the uncomfortable chair and gestured at Jodi. “Spill.”
She sighed, then tilted her glass up to polish off her drink. I stood to pour her another, and she sipped it before beginning. “It’s nothing.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Clearly, based on the way you’re taking down those margs.”
“I’m losing my mom.”
My stomach dropped through the floor. “Oh no, is she okay?” I should have visited her. She was literally ten minutes away. I was a terrible person.
“Oh my gosh, yes,” Jodi said in a rush, putting her hands on mine. “She’s not sick or anything. I’m so sorry.”
I slumped with relief. “Oh, thank god.”
Jodi continued. “But she’s leaving. Moving to South Carolina to live with Nana, who’s not doing so well.”
A rush of memories flooded back. Driving with Jason and Jodi, the rest of their family in a separate car, to visit Jason’s grandparents in Charleston every July and taking them to Isle of Palms for the fireworks, which they said were the best in the area. Going back for his grandfather’s funeral, listening to his mom complain about Nana not wanting to move back here. I squeezed Jodi’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”
