Page 16 of When Lemons Give You Life

“No worries, love, it’s the most excitement I’ve had all year!” he croons, his twinkling blue eyes as wide as saucers.

I straighten up and dare to glance at Frank, who’s stifling a laugh. A giggle escapes me as I shoot him a look and return to Walter.

“Hello, everyone, it’s so lovely to see you all here again, and thank you for that unexpected applause! Today I am going to take you on a journey to Spain.”

I close my eyes as the melody dances over me; my noisy mind surrenders to the notes.

“Hello, Lisa.”

I blink.

The music has stopped, and Frank is standing in front of me. He shifts his guitar case from one shoulder to the other, his long fingers fumbling with the hem of his shirt. “That’s a nice, um . . . color of top.”

I frown, confused—I was just wearing my white T-shirt, wasn’t I?

The floor drops from under me as I follow his gaze to the bold writing across my maroon chest: “GOT WORMS?”

Right. The pharmaceutical company freebie I’d changed into. Perfect.

“How are you, Lisa?” His voice softens as he says my name, like he’s trying it out. Something about the way he says it makes me feel momentarily seen—and not in the terrifying, spotlight way.

I blink again. I want to blurt out the truth. That I’m not okay. That my brain doesn’t work, and I’m pretty sure my undies are on backward. But people don’t say that; they use two words to cover a multitude of sins. “I’m fine.”

His eyes search mine, longer than most people allow for silence. Then he turns to Walter, who’s still sporting a huge grin. Frank does a double take, tilting his head. “Oh, sorry, is this your brother? He looks a bit different today. Happier, but also . . . much older?”

“Oh yes, it’s him,” I say quickly, staring at my feet. “He just, um . . . didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Lisa!” I look up to see Allison marching toward me, a disgruntled Griff in tow. “There you are. Can you take your brother? He’s been tipping his coffee on the pot plant again!”

My mouth goes dry.

Frank glances from Walter to Griff, then back to me, a flicker of confusion in his expression as my embarrassment barometer soars off the scale.

I let out a nervous laugh.

Walt is still beaming at Frank, oblivious, while Allison deposits Griff at my side.

I loop my arm through his, now flanked by two very different older men—one euphoric, the other sardonic—like a scene straight out of a cartoon, with an angel and devil perched on either shoulder.

The corner of Frank’s lip turns up. “Oh. You have two brothers?”

“No, just the one, but Walt here is like a brother—or grandbrother, if you will.”

Frank frowns.

I bite my lip. Grandbrother?! God help me!

Just when I might pass out from embarrassment, I’m rescued by Dayna coming to take Walt for a checkup.

“So . . . Griff?” Frank motions to him, and I nod sheepishly in confirmation. “Good to see you again, mate.”

He extends a hand, but Griff doesn’t take it.

“C’mon, Ratbag, Frank is trying to shake your hand.”

“Ratbag?”

“It’s my nickname for him from when I was a kid, it kind of stuck.”