The Sweetest Summer(138)
Evie kissed Mona’s cheek. “Everything looks lovely.”
“Thank you, my dear.” She took the casserole dish from Clancy’s hands. “Does this need heating or refrigeration?”
“The fridge would be great until we’re ready to eat, thanks.”
Mona peered through the glass lid. “It looks delicious. May I ask what it is?”
“Sure—a quinoa salad with sautéed kale, pears, and roasted almonds.”
Mona’s eyes widened. “Well, doesn’t that sound interesting? Be right back.”
Once her mother was in the house, Rowan draped an arm over Evie’s shoulder. “She has no flippin’ idea what you just said.” Everyone laughed.
The backyard was set up with a large charcoal grill, horseshoe pit, badminton net, and a fire grate surrounded by a variety of lawn chairs and side tables. The bonfire was ready to light. And under a large sycamore, Mona had created a charming dining area right out of Martha Stewart’s magazine. She’d covered a long table with crisp summery white linens and mismatched vintage china and glassware. Chairs of every description and size were pulled alongside. In the middle of everything was a lush centerpiece of wildflowers, sea grass, cattails, and shells. It was simple and unpretentious, yet one of the most beautiful arrangements Evie had ever seen.
Just then, she noticed one chair had been topped with a child’s booster seat in preparation for Chrissy.
Clancy put his lips to her ear. “She borrowed it from a neighbor.”
“How kind of her.”
“This evening is very important to my mom. She does this every Wednesday of festival week, without fail. She wants us to all be together in the same way, year after year. Like a ritual.”
Evie allowed her eyes to meet his. She tried to fight it off, but an overwhelming sadness washed over her. Her mother had been the same way. Christmas, Easter, birthdays—all held together with the thread of ceremony, doing things the same way time and time again. It was a big part of why her childhood always made sense.
“I miss this. A lot.”
Clancy kissed her cheek. “It’s here for you tonight. Right now. I want you to know that my woo-woo family is your woo-woo family.”
She was grateful he made her laugh.
A voice bellowed from the side of the house. “By the look of this crowd I’d say there’s been a mass escape at the Municipal Lockup!”
“Prepare to be schmoozed,” Clancy whispered. “Just be yourself.”
The tall and still handsome Frasier Flynn strolled across the lawn like he owned the place, which, according to Clancy, he did not. Mona had rented this house when they separated two years before.
Frasier went around the yard hugging and kissing everyone and slapping his sons on the back. Jellybean had decided to hang on to Evie’s leg during the commotion, and she couldn’t blame her.
“Clancy? Would you do the honors?”
“Da, this is my old friend Evie. We met back in school.”
“A pleasure.” Frasier kissed the top of her hand. “I can’t imagine why my son waited so long to add you to our festivities, but we are so pleased you’re here.”
Clancy patted Chris on the ball cap. “And this is Jellybean.”
Frasier’s manner softened immediately, and it was obvious that he’d had kids of his own. He squatted down. “Hi there. I’m Clancy’s dad. It’s good you’re a Red Sox fan.”