Page 22 of Roadrunner

“I never really have a reason to wear dresses,” Addy said.

“I feel more like myself in jeans,” I admitted. “I’m not much of a girl, I guess.”

Della glanced over her shoulder. “You’re beautiful. That dress suits you.”

I pinched the fabric between two fingers. “I bought it for today.”

“Wear it more, then. It fits like it was made for you.”

“Nothing fits me,” Addy said. “I’m built like a board.”

“You’re not,” I said. “I’d give anything to be tall and thin.”

She looked me over. “I’d give anything for a figure like yours.”

“I’m convinced I’ll get fat the second I stop moving,” I said. “Ten pounds on someone my height looks like twenty.”

“How tall are you?”

“Five-two,” I replied, kind of lying just a little. “In the right shoes.”

“I wish I was five-two.”

“No, you don’t. Believe me. There’s always something I can’t reach.”

Riley put his head around the doorway. “Sorry about all that, Mother.”

“He got what he deserved,” Della said. “Seems like we all do, eventually. Need something?”

“You need help?”

“Go find your father. We’ll be out in a minute.”

“You sure you don’t need—”

She gave him a look. “We’re having women’s time, thank you. Stay if you feel a burning need.”

“What’s women’s time?”

“Removing stains from soiled laundry. Recipes. Hairstyles. Makeup application.” She said it entirely straight. “That kind of thing.”

He glanced down at his swollen hand. “I’ll go find Pop.”

“Get the pies ready.”

He grinned and left. We finished the dishes and stood around with fresh coffee talking about none of that—high school sweethearts, first kisses, how we’d each met the men in our lives, what we actually believed about love.

Pete’s name didn’t come up again. We had pie, talked about movies coming out, agreed we all hated spiders and loved Christmas, and Della promised to make me a stocking to hang beside everyone else’s. After that we played Monopoly at the kitchen table, and Antonio won, and it felt like the kind of night I hadn’t had since I was small enough not to remember it clearly.

When the clock in the living room struck the hour and the day was officially over, Riley and I left, later than we meant to. I spent the whole drive home hoping I’d see all of them again. Soon.

I’d waited a long time for a holiday like that one. It was the only Thanksgiving I could remember having with an actual family. When we pulled up next to my Jeep, I decided Della had it right.

Eventually, we all get what we deserve.

CHAPTER TEN

Alex