She helped the others carry food to the tables set up on the lawn under the shade of the big oak tree. The sun was setting, streaking the sky with pink and lavender, and an evening breeze beat back the heat of the day.
Her mother had recovered from her shock and was now in the-show-must-go-on mode. Allie had to admit, they’d done a wonderful job setting up the party. Fresh flowers and balloons adorned a dozen round tables. They were beautifully set with china, their white tablecloths fluttering in the breeze. Twinkle lights draped the tree branches above, creating a space that would feel intimate when darkness pressed in.
Allie set down a platter of corn on the cob and scanned the crowd for Luke. She found him tossing a football with her nephew. She’d hunt him down later. He’d come through for her, at his own risk, and that meant more than he could know. She couldn’t let the blame fall on him, however.
She passed the assortment of hot foods, salad, and the coolers of bottled drinks. At the end of the table, silverware was set out with cups and napkins and—
Allie did a double take. She’d brought white napkins—the really nice ones that were practically cloth. But the napkins on the table were blue.
Heat flushed through her limbs, leaching into her face. Her mom had brought backup napkins. Allie’s muscles quivered and her fingers twitched. She scanned the table. But no, her white napkins were nowhere to be found.
Her mom passed with a crock of something. “Honey, can you get the candles for the cake? They’re on the kitchen—What’s wrong?”
“Where are my napkins?” Allie tried hard for a level tone and didn’t quite succeed.
“Oh, they’re inside. I saw the blue ones at the store and thought they’d look wonderful against the white tablecloth. Pretty, don’t you think?”
“But you asked me to bring the napkins—and I did.”
Her mom blinked at her. “Well, sure, honey. We can put them out, too, if you want.”
“That’s not the point, Mom.”
Her mom set the crock down and tilted her head at Allie. “Then what is the point, dear?”
“I wish you’d just—” She struggled for the words. But now that she was trying to verbalize her thoughts, it all sounded so stupid. Besides, there was the stolen car to consider. “Never mind.”
Allie turned to go.
Mom took her hand. “Honey, what is it? If this is about the car, I’m sorry I flipped out on you. But it was terribly upsetting, as I’m sure you can imagine.”
“It’s not the car, Mom. Or not just the car.” Allie huffed, collecting her thoughts. “You don’t trust me to do anything. You treat me like I’m incapable of carrying out the most basic tasks—I can’t even be trusted with napkins.”
“I just thought blue would look so—”
“This is not the first time. If I’m assigned cups you bring extra, just to make sure. If I have an important appointment, you call to remind me. I can handle basic tasks, Mom.”
Her mom glanced sheepishly at the napkins.
“I know I’ve been a little changeable in the past,” Allie continued. “I still am—that’s just who I am. But that doesn’t mean I’m not a capable adult. That’s the reason I was so adamant about bringing the car up here. I wanted to prove to you that I could follow through. That you could count on me.” Allie threw her hands up. “And now look what’s happened.”
Mom squeezed Allie’s hand. “Well, that wasn’t your fault, honey.”
Allie caught a glimpse of Luke across the lawn, still tossing the ball with Evan. Ella had joined them, and Luke had taken the spot of man-in-the-middle. As far as Allie knew, neither of her parents had even spoken to him since his confession. Since they’d turned their disappointment on Luke. Allie couldn’t get his stricken look out of her mind.
Allie faced her mother, her spine straightening. “You know, Mom, it wasn’t really Luke’s fault—it was mine. I left the keys in the car. He was only being nice, taking the blame for me. And I’m really sorry to disappoint you. I’ll do everything I can to get that car back.
“But you know what? You’re basically the only parents Luke has. He loves you guys, and you need to let him know that you’re going to love him no matter what he does—even if he loses a priceless car.” Allie’s throat tightened and the words constricted.
Her mom’s face softened, her lips going slack. She gave Allie a long, speculative look. “And maybe you need that, too, honey?”
Allie’s eyes burned. She blinked back tears.
Her mom squeezed her hand again. “You know, part of being an adult is accepting responsibility. And you did that today. In fact, if I consider the past few years, you’ve been doing that all along. I guess I’ve just been too blind to notice.”
“I know I’ll never be like Olivia, Mom. I’ll never be perfect.”
“Oh, honey.” Mom chuckled. “Olivia’s far from perfect, and we never wanted you to be her. We don’t want you to be anyone other than who you are. I’m sorry we ever made you feel otherwise. It’s just . . . I still see you as my baby girl—the girl who wore two different shoes to school in the seventh grade and needed me to rescue her.”
“That was a long time ago.”
Her mom drew her into a hug that felt warm and welcoming. Allie settled her head on her mom’s shoulder, inhaling her flowery scent.
“You’re right, honey. Somewhere along the way, you grew up. I’ll do better. We both will, I promise. I love you so much.”
“I love you, too, Mom. Thanks.” A weight lifted off Allie. She should’ve said something long ago. Why had she let this go so long?
Over her mom’s shoulder, her eyes caught on Luke as he made a show of missing the football, which was well within his grasp.
Allie pulled back, meeting her mom’s gaze. “And you and Dad will talk to Luke?”
Mom’s blue eyes sharpened on her, probably seeing far more than Allie intended. “Of course we will, honey.” She cradled Allie’s face. “And now we’d best gather everyone around before all this wonderful food gets cold.”
The meal was finished, the cake had been served, and the sun had set. Allie’s dad had made a sentimental toast that brought tears to her grandparents’ eyes. After supper Allie played two rounds of tag with her nieces and nephew and one round of Chase the Mean, Hairy Monster—Allie being the monster, of course. She had grass stains on her pants, leaf chips in her hair, and a smile on her face.
Darkness pressed in, the twinkle lights aglow as the guests mingled on the deck, lawn, and makeshift dance floor. The sweet strains of “I Only Have Eyes for You” filtered through the air, and a cool breeze ruffled Allie’s hair as she leaned on the deck railing, watching her grandparents slow dance.
They looked so sweet, rocking back and forth, smiling at the gathered guests. Gram had a bit of red lipstick on her teeth, but Gramps was so farsighted he probably couldn’t tell.
When Gram said something to him, Gramps leaned closer. “What’s that?”
“We haven’t danced in years!”
“I did clean out my ears.”