All's Fair

It's Complicated

"Hey Grace!" Her youngest brother looked up from the ice chest as she came around the patio on the side of the house. "Can I get you a beer?"

"You just like saying that now that you're finally legal."

JJ twisted off the top and took a long drink, then pulled out another one, opened it and handed it to his sister with a flourish. "Twenty-one years, three weeks and counting," he laughed.

One thing about Jimmy, Grace had to admit, he'd laid the law down when her brothers were teenagers. There'd been no drinking beer and driving around in cars during their high school years, no drunken parties when parents were out of town, and no beers by the pool even when they came home on breaks from college. Not until they were 21.

Of course, considering that much of Jimmy's career was built on personal injury and wrongful death lawsuits on behalf of the victims of drunk drivers – including her own father who had died when a drunken boater rammed his cigarette boat into Theodore Wallace's 21-foot Boston Whaler – it wasn't surprising he took such a strong stand, or that her brothers got with the program without too many adolescent complaints. As for Grace, she'd never needed any lectures. She'd been on the boat with her father when he died, and the memory was every bit as vivid as it had been on that day almost fifteen years ago.

"Hey, Slick!" Her drink sloshed in the bottle as her stepfather enveloped her in a bear hug, as usual seeming oblivious to the fact that she stood there stiffly, tolerating but never welcoming his boisterous affection. As soon as she was around him she felt like the sulky teenager she'd been at fourteen, resenting her new stepfather while she struggled to come to grips with her father's death. She didn't want to be that person.

"Hi Jimmy," she said, when he released her.

"So I hear you have a case with my buddy Jack – I told him he's damn lucky you're sitting on the same side of the counsel table."

"Thanks." She smiled.

"He's going to try to stop by this afternoon. But promise me you won't spend the whole time talking shop, okay? Your mother wants a chance to hang out a little."

"Sure, Jimmy."

"Alright." He gave her an appraising look. "See if you can fit me in for lunch while you're here this week. Stop by the office. Tell me how they're treating you in that fancy Philadelphia firm."

"I'll try," she said, but they both knew she probably wouldn't.

"Your mom's in the kitchen finishing up the potato salad."

"I'll go give her a hand," Grace said, grateful for the excuse to escape. It wasn't that her stepfather was a bad guy, she thought as she made her way toward the house. He just had a way of filling up a room until you felt sometimes like you couldn't even breathe. Just like he'd filled up her mother's life, and her brothers', filled up their hearts until it seemed to Grace that all their memories of Theodore Wallace, husband and father, had just drifted away on a warm Florida breeze.

But Grace hadn't forgotten. Grace would never forget.

* * *

Her mom's welcoming smile had made Grace feel bad again that she'd chosen to stay at the hotel rather than set up a work area here at the house. But if Ellen didn't completely understand her explanations about how much easier it was just to spread out her files and get her work done in the quiet of her hotel room, she didn't let on, and Grace relaxed. By the time she finished slicing hard-boiled eggs and arranging them on top of the large bowl of potato salad with sprigs of fresh parsley and a dash of paprika, she was feeling like she might even enjoy the afternoon. Just because she hadn't been here for awhile didn't mean it had to be awkward, she told herself as she walked back outside and felt the warmth of the Florida sun soak through her skin.