“And also a hundred years ago,” I replied quietly. “It’s hard to wrap my head around the fact that three of them kept growing and learning and changing, and one just—I don’t know—was frozen in time or something.”
“You know he’s been growing and changing, too,” Callie reminded me.
“His entire life was just put on pause,” I snapped.
“Hey,” Callie said, her head jerking back in surprise. “I know that. What, do you think it’s easy for any of us?”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, shaking my head. “Guess I’m on edge.”
“With good reason,” she replied, forgiving me easily like always. “I remember when Asa got out.”
“Me, too,” I said with a scoff. “Loser.”
“Now that was a hundred years ago,” she joked. “Think you could let it go yet? I forgave him a long ass time ago.”
“That’s because you’re nicer than me,” I said stubbornly. “He stayed up here and partied while you waited for him at the old apartment like a lovesick puppy.”
“Jesus, you’re on a roll today,” she complained.
I laughed. “Sorry, that didn’t come out quite how I intended.”
“Sure, it didn’t.”
“I just mean, I remember how excited you were and what an ass he was.”
“Yeah, me, too,” she said with a soft smile. “Hey, you wanna hear some news that you can’t tell anyone?”
“No,” I replied firmly. I hated keeping secrets. Inevitably, I slipped up and made some comment about it and then I spent five minutes trying to backtrack, making it worse. I knew some things that I’d take to my grave—but the small secrets? I could never keep track of who knew what and I always ended up spilling the beans.
Callie ignored my reply and whispered, “Heather’s pregnant again.”
“Dammit, Callie,” I said in exasperation.
“What?” she replied innocently. “They’re going to tell everyone soon anyway. Plus, Heather’s like me—she can never hide it because she’s always throwing up.”
“Five kids is a lot of damn kids,” I said with a laugh, meeting Callie’s eyes. “You should probably have a talk with your son about how to prevent that.”
“I thought she was going to make Tommy get snipped the last time,” she said, laughing with me. “But he obviously avoided it somehow.”
“If I was her, I’d make him do it before this one is even born,” I replied. “Take care of business before they get to the danger zone again.”
Callie started humming the Kenny Loggins song and I choked. Wheezing, I tried to catch my breath as she started dancing to the beat.
“Yeah, it’s all fun and games until you have to move into a shoe with all those grandkids,” I gasped, making her flick flour at me. “There was an old woman who lived in a shoe—”
“Hey, I’m not an old woman!”
“We’re both old women,” I said as I got my breathing under control. “I think my ass is starting to sag. My ass! What the hell is that about?”
“Well, something had to sag eventually,” she said reasonably. “And you’ve got no boobs.”
I opened my mouth, shut it, and opened it again. “Okay, that’s fair,” I conceded.
“God, did you ever imagine we’d be the old ladies hanging out in the kitchen making pies for fifteen zillion people?” she asked with a sigh.
“I didn’t imagine I’d live to see twenty-five,” I replied honestly. I paused. “I didn’t think I’d end up an Old Lady, either.”
She smiled at my pun. “I felt a lot better about that distinction when I wasn’t actually an old lady,” she said, tilting her head to the side as she flattened the dough she was working on with a rolling pin.
“Amen, sister,” I replied. “But hey, at least our men can still get it up.”
“You’re talking about my brother and that’s disgusting,” she said easily.
“You have three nieces,” I replied, just as easily. “You know me and your brother do the dirty.”
“Oh, come on,” she muttered in disgust.
“He takes me to Pound Town,” I said, enjoying the look on her face. I leaned closer. “Regularly.”
“I’m going to brain you with this rolling pin, you sicko,” she said, snickering.
I grinned and reached for another pre-made graham cracker crust. While Callie kneaded and rolled and sliced and put the pretty little edges on her pies before she baked them, I mixed up a few different flavors of pudding and filled my store bought crusts and threw them in the fridge. Sometimes, if I was feeling fancy, I even added whipped cream to the top. The two of us made a pretty good team, I thought. Plus, I was always done way before she was, and it gave me time to sit around while she worked, which I thought was hilarious.
“I’m glad you’re my friend,” I said, grinning at her.
“That’s good,” she replied. “It’s been over fifty years, I’d hate to think you’d been miserable all this time.”
“Nah, you’d love that,” I argued. “That would make your day.”
“What would make my day is if you’d finish those shitty ass pies and get out of my workspace,” she bitched, her lips twitching with amusement.
“I’m going to put bananas in my banana cream pie this year,” I replied importantly. “So it’s going to take me even longer than usual.”
“Of course you are,” she said in exasperation. “Where are the bananas?”
I looked around the kitchen. “Shit, did I forget them?”
“Probably,” she said as I strode toward the bags we’d brought with us. “Those bags are empty.”
“They can’t be,” I said, lifting them from the floor. “Fuck.”
“Did you leave them in the car?” she asked.
“I thought you said you grabbed the rest of the bags,” I said, swinging the empty bags from my fingertips.
“Maybe I missed one?”
“So, now I have to go look for it?” I whined, stomping my foot.
Callie laughed at my imitation of every kid we’d raised. “Go check,” she said. “You’ve been dragging your feet all day and I’m almost done.”
“You still have to bake at least one more,” I argued.
“And you still have to cut the fucking bananas and mix your pudding,” she shot back. “Which, knowing how slow you move, means I’ll probably beat you.”
“The hell you will,” I said, spinning on my heel.
“Grab my coffee out of the cup holder while you’re out there!” Callie called as I walked away.
“You left one of my bags so I’d have to grab your coffee, didn’t you?” I accused over my shoulder. She chuckled but didn’t answer me.
“This is bullshit,” I said to Brenna as I passed her in the main room of the clubhouse. “Callie’s made me her bitch.”
Brenna laughed. “Wanna trade?”
“Oh, hell no,” I joked, grinning. “I don’t do decorations.”