Near Touch

Chapter 23: Blue Redemption

"... I mean there's irresponsible, that's me... then there's forgetful, that's your father... and then there's both - you," Anne said, thrusting the packet of cranberries onto Amy's chest. "Assaulting a classmate in the middle of a volunteer rally for the search and rescue of another, I have run out of excuses for you, Amelia. You are going to end up in juvie, and I'm just going to die of shame..."

As far as parental lectures went, this one probably set a world record. Anne's thesis on her brazen daughter's life - pinpointing all the tiny instances where she went wrong that led up to her most recent act of insanity - was already thirteen hours long and counting. Only the need to sleep had been a minor deterrent for her mom. Although, Amy was sure her mother had continued to mumble-scold in her fitful slumber. They were in the fresh produce section of Greenbriar's hunting down some last-minute Thanksgiving essentials her father had forgotten about.

Amy only wished the break in rainfall that had battered Sirencester since yesterday could've inspired her mother to relent. A preternatural chill had slicked the roads.

"I think I'm going to need wine to wash down your sins." Anne swatted away Amy's hand when she tried to commandeer the shopping cart. "You've lost all trolley privileges, sweetheart," Anne snapped, somehow effortlessly blending her British roots and Southern affectations.

Inexorably grounded for the foreseeable future, Amy was already churlish about a lot of things. Having had the same amount of success finding Caleb Dawson's metaphysical presence as the SAR team had in finding his corporeal one, this just felt like another insult to injury. It wasn't like she could just call and make up with him.

"Then why bring me? I was fine at home!" Amy erupted.

"Young lady, don't talk back to me."

"Mom, I told you! Cece was disrespecting -"

"Everything all right here, Ma'am?" Ashton emerged from behind the jams and pickles shelf, all dimples and sandy blond charm. He quickly rearranged his teal work apron which he was wearing like a cape.

"Ashton, honey! Oh dear, everything is fine, I was just looking for that beautiful rosé you had a couple of weeks ago." Her mother switched expressions faster than the carnation in Cuphead. Anne had always nursed a soft corner for Ashton.

"Oh, the smash hit from the Arts and Wine Festival? We may be out of stock now but I'll check it for you."

"Aren't you a peach? Amy has a lot to learn from you."

"Mom!"

"Does she now?" Ashton winked at Amy when her mother wasn't looking.

"Why are you here on Thanksgiving? Weren't you supposed to be at Gracie's?" asked Anne.

"Mom had a photoshoot fiasco so we had to cancel our New York plans. Dad is on a work trip." Ashton dug out the last bottle of wine from the back. "Got it!"

"You poor thing," Anne said, hugging the shiny blush wine to her bosom. "Then what are you going to do?"

With a scrunched-up, pitiful expression Ashton plucked the macaroni and cheese box from the shelf beside him and gave it a little kiss. This coming from the kid who couldn't play a tree.

Anne shook her head. "Oh no absolutely not! You must come over. I can't let you be all alone in that house tonight."

"Are you sure Mrs. Irvine? It won't be too inconvenient?"