“You did not,” Micah said.
“I did,” Andrew returned.
“Prove it.”
“What, you think I took pictures?” he asked.
“You take pictures of everything,” she said.
“Are you mocking my picture-taking skills?”
“No, your skills are solid. I’m mocking the sheer number that you take.”
“For work,” he protested.
“Whatever,” Micah said. “Soph.” She turned toward me.
I had laid out three flowers and was trying to decide if this was going to look good or cheesy. “What?”
“Vote.”
“On what?” Did she think I’d been following their conversation?
“Andrew said he stuck his tongue in one of these fuel canisters when it was lit.”
“Yes,” I said.
“Yes, what? You think he did? These things are like a million degrees. The fire is blue!”
“Yes,” I said again.
“See, she believes me,” Andrew said.
“I believe you are that stupid.”
Micah laughed but then sucked in her lips and said, “Soph, that was mean.” But then she laughed again.
“Thanks,” Andrew said to her. Then to me he said, “Is this what you call keeping to yourself?”
“Believe me, I’m trying.”
“How’d your mom like the gift?” Micah asked, changing the subject. She was excellent at avoiding conflict.
Micah and I had gone shopping the week before and thought it would be fun to pick out dresses for our moms to wear today. My mom wasn’t exactly a dress kind of woman so I’d picked her one that seemed more her style—not too fancy, but comfortable.
“She hasn’t opened it yet,” I said. “I left it on her bed with a note that she should open it before coming here.”
“Fun! I’m sure she’ll love it.”
“Hopefully.” I couldn’t say why, but I felt anxious about it. “How about your mom?”
Micah grinned. “She was so happy with hers. She choked up when I gave it to her, but then tried to cover it up by saying she had a cough.”
I smiled. Mrs. Williams was so sweet.
“Cute necklace, by the way,” Micah said, leaning over the table to look at the pendant around my neck.
“Thanks, I got it at Everything.”
“What’s Everything?” Andrew asked.
Micah gasped. “You haven’t been to Everything?”
“No.”
Micah looked up as if she was trying to figure out how to explain the unexplainable. “It’s a store next to Sophie’s work that sells—”
“Mostly crap,” I said. “Other people’s crap.”
“Not just other people’s crap! You can also buy a gallon of milk there. Or a brand-new shovel.”
“So everything?” Andrew asked.
“Exactly!” Micah said.
I loved browsing through Everything. It was where I found half my jewelry and almost all the scrap material I used to design or embellish clothing. Because we were such a small town, the items there were never too picked over. People emptied their attics into Everything, and that’s where their attics stayed.
“Mom!” Micah called out, then went running around the tables and across the grass to throw her arms around her mom. Mrs. Williams was a short, curvy woman who Micah had shot past in the seventh grade. She had copper-brown skin and kept her black hair just an inch long, accentuating her strong cheekbones and brown eyes. She was wearing the dress Micah had given her—a knee-length green one. She looked beautiful.
I turned my attention back to the table and placed another sunflower. I tried to ignore Andrew, whose gaze I could feel on me. I also tried to keep myself from messing with my overgrown bangs.
“What?” I finally said.
“Is your brother coming today?”
“To a Mother’s Day brunch?”
“Why not?”
“This isn’t for sons. It’s a mother-daughter thing.”
“Ah. I see how it is around here.”
“It’s tradition. That’s how it is. You’ll learn more about tradition when you witness the reaction of fifty women deprived of bacon.”
He lifted the lid off a chafing dish. “I know I’m not from Rockside, but is this not what you guys call bacon?”
My eyes shot down to see the dish nearly overflowing with crispy bacon. “Oh, well, I’m glad your dad learned after last time.”
“Pretty sure this town didn’t invent providing bacon at brunch.”
I placed the last few flowers on the table, ready to escape.
“Do you know what your problem is, Sophie?”
I stiffened and glared at him. “What answer would I have to give for you not to continue?”
“Your problem is that you have a chip on your shoulder. I’m not sure what about, but I’m trying to figure that out.”
“A chip on my shoulder?” I snapped. “Do you hear yourself talk? Who says that? I’ll tell you who says that: self-absorbed guys who don’t live in the real world and have no idea how to truly relate to people. If I have a chip on my shoulder, it only exists for you.”
Jett Hart walked up to the food table carrying a foil-covered platter, and I practically jumped out of my skin in surprise.
“Good morning,” I said cheerily. Probably too cheerily considering my nostrils were still flaring with irritation.
He set the platter down right on top of three sunflowers. When the dish didn’t sit right, he furrowed his brow and lifted it back up to see what the problem was. “Son, move those,” he barked. Andrew collected the three sunflowers as Jett walked away.
I gritted my teeth. Great, my memory of him wasn’t wrong either. I sighed and held out my hands for the squashed flowers.
Andrew dropped them in my hands. “They are kind of big and very … yellow.”
I held his gaze for a moment in disbelief. “The chip on my shoulder seems to be getting heavier.”
He laughed, which I hadn’t expected. Normally he was ready to meet my snark with his own. I must’ve caught him off guard with that comment. I rolled my eyes and couldn’t collect the rest of the flowers fast enough before I was able to hurry away.
The brunch was in full swing. Jett Hart and Mr. Williams were hovering protectively around the food like their presence would make it taste better. I wasn’t hearing any complaints so maybe it was working. Micah and Lance were helping with drink refills and questions. Andrew was socializing with guests, but actually, I realized, taking pictures. And my mom still wasn’t here.
I stood watching the parking lot and checked my phone again. There were no Sorry I’m going to be extra late texts.
I tucked my phone back in the pocket of my skirt and peered down the road. Maybe she’d gotten stuck at work. I mean, her job didn’t save lives or anything, but the owner of the diner where she worked sure acted like it did. Maybe it was better that she wasn’t here; then I could just do my job and not worry.
“Where’s your mom?” Micah asked as she passed me, holding a pitcher of orange juice.
I shrugged, pretending I hadn’t noticed her absence.