T H E•M A N•I N•T H E•M O O N

~1~

My head was throbbing from all of Nana's barking.

"I can't think with that dog's yapping!" John groaned, striking his forensic science book closed.

"Why don't you go feed her, then? And I'm sure she'd hush up if you gave her some of your loving affection." I teased.

John narrowed his dark brows. "You're hilarious, sister. Honestly, how do you think Grandmother would react to that kind of manner?"

I grinned and pulled a stack of flowered China plates out of their cabinet.

"I think she'd rather like it." I replied, placing the plates in front of each chair at the oak dining table. John scoffed, then tossed his book on the settee and started for the winding staircase.

I almost dropped the last delicate plate as Michael thundered down the steps, tumbling over John in the process. "Michael!" John shouted after regaining his balance.

I knew if Grandmother were here yet, she'd frown upon my choice of action. I laughed aloud, clutching at my center. John looked appalled, which gave me all the more reason to cackle.

Suddenly, the main door flew open and there stood my Mother, Father, and my Grandmother.

Everything was silent because Nana had stopped barking.

"Hi, Grandmother..." John said shakily, flashing the weak old woman a feeble smile. She swept her eyes over the room, inspecting both of us.

"Where is your brother?" She asked, turning her nose up slightly.

Michael jumped off the floor, a wide smile plastered on his pale face. "Hi!"

Grandmother grabbed at her heart and laughed in an almost unladylike manner. "What were you doing on the floor, child? I'm sure a chair or on your own feet would be much more enjoyable!" She exclaimed, opening her arms for Michael to run into to.

I shot John a knowing glance. Michael was Grandmother's favorite. And Mother's. Though Father seemed to fancy John's company more than mine or Michael's.

"Ah, I've see you've set the table already." Father murmured, turning his gaze to the dining room.

A sliver of disappoint slid its way into my heart. I'd hoped he would have noticed that I used his favorite glassware.

"Wendy, dear, can you fetch me a glass of wine, please?" Grandmother sighed, allowing her fur coat to fall off her fragile shoulders and into Father's waiting hands. I nodded and plucked her already filled wine glass off the table and handed it to her.

"Thank you," she said tightly.

We sat down to dinner, an uncomfortable stillness hanging thick in the air.

I started as John cleared his throat, an obvious attempt to break the silence.

"So, how is Ireland, Grandmother?" He asked, taking a small sip of his water.

"Oh, just fine. There are many attractive young men there, Wendy. You should come visit over your next school break." She replied and John choked on his drink.

"Young men, you say?" Mother repeated, rearranging the food on her plate with a small smile.

I widened my eyes at her boldness.

"Yes, dear. Very attractive men." Grandmother nodded.

"Well, I think it would be a splendid visit, Wendy. You should take your Grandmother up on her offer sometime." Mother chuckled.

Father was trying to hide his embarrassment, but was failing terribly.

And Grandmother noticed.