Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 125117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“So, your sisters?”
“Oh, yeah, they just wanted me to be the tiebreaker vote. Really, it’s silly, because we’re in our twenties now, and I’m sure my parents don’t need another photo album from us any more than they ever really liked the coupon books we made them with, like, one free kiss from each of us, even though they pretended those were the greatest thing in the world too.”
Carys handed her another piece of bread, cheese, and honey.
“Like, we started doing a group present for our parents and a round-robin gift wheel for me and my sisters because we were kids and didn’t have any money, but now we all have jobs, and we could just get each other regular presents so it wouldn’t have to be a whole thing.”
Greta forced herself to stop talking, take a breath, and eat some grapes.
“Sorry, I’ll stop talking about this.”
“Why do you think your parents are only pretending to like these presents?” Carys asked.
“I dunno, it’s silly, right? Your adult children putting on a play or making stuff like kids?”
“I think probably they still love you just as much as when you were little and they still want pictures of you,” Carys said mildly.
Greta got distracted watching her suck a bead of honey off her finger.
“Seems like maybe your sister likes an excuse to work on something with y’all.”
“Sadie? She just likes to tell us all what to do since she’s the oldest.”
Greta was half kidding. But only half.
“Sorry to keep talking about my family. Do you have any holiday traditions?”
“Not with my family anymore. For a little while when I was in college, my mom and I would go through the motions. She’d get me random stuff that had nothing to do with my life. I’d put a lot of thought into trying to get a gift that made her feel seen, and she’d be massively disappointed in it, then we’d go to her parents for an awkward dinner.”
Carys delivered this statement in an offhand way, but it made Greta’s stomach clench with sadness. Then Carys grinned.
“These days, Veronica and Helen and I have a big holiday thing of our own. We invite lovers and close friends who aren’t seeing family, and we do it up here.” She paused for a moment and looked up at Greta, her whiskey-brown eyes twinkling. “You should come.”
Greta smiled and eased down beside her. “Again?” she said.
Carys arched an eyebrow and raked Greta with her eyes. “’Tis the season.”
Chapter 9
Greta
hows nola??? Maggie’s text came when Greta and Horse were on their way to Muriel’s for tea.
it’s great! met the most amazing girl and made a friend with an actual banana tree growing in her backyard.
Maggie sent back banana emojis, then, like a GIRL girl?
yes, a human girl. woman.
liiiike ???
total fireworks, Greta gave in and replied, smiling. An old man walking slowly past her smiled back and tipped his hat.
“Morning,” she mumbled.
She was still figuring out the proper mode of interacting with strangers in New Orleans. It was a whole different gestural vocabulary. Coming from a town where everyone knew each other, Greta was used to waving hello. But her experience in Portland, Maine, for college had been one where if you didn’t know someone, their overtures generally portended creepiness. Here, though, a thin veneer of formal charm overlaid everything, and it took some getting used to.
She’d asked Carys for a gloss, and Carys had said, “Pretend everyone is your grandma’s second-closest friend.”
That hadn’t been terribly helpful, since Greta’s grandparents lived in Ohio and she’d only met them a handful of times. Still, it was better than nothing.
Muriel’s garden looked even lovelier than the last time Greta’d been there, and when she pushed open the gate and called, “Good morning,” Muriel breezed out of the kitchen door, coffee tray in hand.
“Hello, darling,” Muriel said. “I’m so glad you’ve come.”
She put the tray on the beautiful mosaic table and kissed Greta on the cheek. Muriel’s silver hair was caught up in a large bun and secured with a silver and turquoise hairpin. She wore a flowing kaftan of yellow, peach, and black in a floral print that reminded Greta of some grand sixteenth-century tapestry.
“Will you help me with the other tray?”
Greta followed her into the kitchen and picked up a tray laden with pastries and fruit. “God, this looks amazing. I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble.”
“Pleasure is worth a bit of trouble,” Muriel said and swept back out into the garden.
“Yeah, okay,” Greta said, following.
Muriel poured strong chicory coffee for them both and added cream and sugar. She leaned back, took a deep breath, and sipped the coffee.
“This is one of my favorite things,” she said.
Greta was fairly certain she’d never simply sat and enjoyed coffee in her life, always slopping it on her shirt trying to drink it while she watered the plants in the morning or as she got ready for work.