Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“Oh my god, Nanny, I think you’ve lost your mind.”
Nanny hoots at Kimmy. “You think? Child, that happened a good long time ago. If you’re only noticing now, your powers of observation need some work.” She’s already done eight bags to our one each. “Now get cracking on that popcorn.”
“Why? Everyone knows you’re just going to give out frozen gravy containers as party favors.”
“Don’t knock the frozen gravy,” Nanny huffs. “Who doesn’t like frozen gravy?”
“Okay. Okay. I won’t talk about the gravy. Can we talk about Van instead? Like why he’s back? What do you know, Nanny? All I got was your cryptic early morning call saying he was back and not to bombard him with questions because he’s taking it easy for a few days. Then, right after you hung up, you texted me about having this surprise welcome home party.” She wiggles her brows like she’s not up to serious no good. “What I want to know is if he still smells like a zombie.”
“He smells good, Kimberly. Don’t say that. How would you know what a zombie smells like anyway?”
“I don’t know. Maybe like your lingering fart dog.”
Nanny cackles at that. “Good to know you inherited my sense of humor. No one else in this family did.”
“Shit, I left the aloe vera in the car,” I interrupt. My hands are now fully coated in so much sugar that I don’t think it will ever wash off. Kimmy is faring so much worse with the caramel, but at least she’s not covered head to foot like I somehow would have been. “I’ll go get it.”
“Oh, you brought me another plant?” Nanny beams at me. “One can never have too many plants.”
“Even if you already have six hundred cactuses, eighty succulents, and forty million aloes?”
“Don’t forget the lilies and the house rose bush things. I do love those! Speaking of which, you girls need to come over and help me sort the flower gardens. They’re a real mess. Spring has more than sprung, and I need to get out there.”
I love gardening, and since our yard is tiny and my mom prefers a rock garden to anything living, I’m down for whatever chance I have to get down and dirty with dirt.
“You need to get Van on the lawn is what you need.” Kimmy’s rebuttal, in total Kimmy fashion, is one hundred percent snarky. “But real talk, is Van all sulky and sad and lonely? Does he need a friendly shoulder to cry on?” She gives me a not-so-discreet look. As I tackle another plastic bag, trying to get a wad of sticky popcorn in, which is like trying to fit my fist through a pipe the size of a dime, I pretend I don’t see that look.
“Van is Van,” Nanny responds cryptically. “You’ll see right away. Hmm, I wonder how he’s made out trying to find me a baking soda block.”
“What the hell is that?” Kimmy rams in a blob of caramelly-looking popcorn that makes my mouth water and then ties off the bag with a twist tie.
“It’s baking soda in block form. I told him it was the most important thing on the list. I also know that it likely doesn’t exist. At least, I’m really hoping it doesn’t. It would be bad luck for all of us if he showed up early and spoiled the surprise.”
“Yes, wouldn’t it just,” Kimmy responds dryly.
“Be nice,” Nanny cautions. “He’s your brother, and he’s had a hard time. He’s family, and families are supposed to love and support each other.”
Kimmy shoots me a death glare under her eyelashes that says families aren’t supposed to stab each other in the back and steal each other’s company either. I shake my head at her, cautioning her to play nice as Nanny said.
“We’ll be on our best behavior,” Kimmy promises, her voice sweeter than all the popcorn on the table combined.
Which is how I know that all of us are in serious trouble. When Kimmy goes to war, she gears up for the long haul. She’s not really a pick your battles kind of person. She’s the gear up, go in screaming and raging in full armor, fuck the consequences, let’s do all the battles kind of a girl.
And I’m right in the middle of it all.
Two hours later, the house is packed with family—everyone from Kimmy’s mom to distant cousins and a ton of Nanny’s friends. I’m pretty sure she invited the whole block and then some, but that’s just Nanny. Every single person from ages zero to one hundred and twenty (because I’m sure no one actually lives past that, but I could be wrong) loves her.
We’re jammed into every crack and crevice, behind doors and also behind and under furniture and couches—I’m not kidding because Curly Cookie went and hid under a couch. We’re all poised and holding a collective breath.