“Rachel! Get over here! Everybody’s been waiting for you.”
It was my thirtieth birthday. She wanted to throw me a backyard brunch — invited the relatives, invited the neighbors. I tried to say no. She looked right at Jake and said, “If you don’t let me do this, the family’s going to think something’s wrong in this house.”
Everything she does comes wrapped up like it’s for my good. And then she leaves me no way to refuse without looking like the bad guy.
Jake came around from the grill and took the platter out of my hands. “I’m on your side today,” he said, low.
That was it. Diane called him over to hand her the tongs, and he went.
Deb — Jake’s aunt, Diane’s little sister — came over carrying a plate of grilled corn. “Sis, you really are something. A thirtieth birthday party for your daughter-in-law. Who else would do that?”
