Page 131 of The Bitterroot Inn (Jamison Valley 5)
Eleanor’s eyes finally left her place mat, and when they landed on Coby, she flinched.
My eyes snapped to Hunter and we started a silent conversation.
What was that, Hunter?
Fuck if I know?
She’d better be nice.
If she’s not, we’ll leave.
“Do you want to play tic-tac-toe?” Coby asked Nell, who was still staring at him with wide eyes.
When she didn’t answer, Coby got up on his knees and leaned across the table. “Grandma? I’m talking to you.” He waved a hand in her face.
“Coby—” I started to tell him to sit back down but Eleanor interrupted me.
“Everett. Sit. Down. It is rude to lean on a table.”
What the hell? Everett?
“Nell, this is Coby,” Hunter said, then looked to Coby. “On your butt, little man. We don’t want to spill any waters.”
“Okay.” He immediately obeyed.
“Why don’t you color Nell a picture?” I asked, sliding over the crayons.
He nodded and started in on the kids’ menu pictures.
“Everett, stay inside the lines,” Nell said.
Coby kept coloring, ignoring her completely because he didn’t know Everett.
My eyes went back to Hunter but he was staring down at his stepmother in complete shock.
“Coby,” he told her. “His name is Coby.”
She flicked her wrist to brush him off. “That’s what I said.”
“No,” Hunter insisted, “you said Everett. Twice.”
“Don’t correct an elder, Hunter,” she snapped. “It’s rude and I raised you better than that.”
He huffed. “You know what else is rude? Calling someone by the wrong name.”
“It’s fine.” I held up my hands so they wouldn’t argue in front of Coby. “Let’s move on.”
Hunter opened his mouth but I gave him a Do not make this worse by fighting with your stepmother! look.
He frowned and took a drink of his water to stay quiet.
And quiet it was.
Nell stared at Coby during the entire meal. She didn’t eat. She didn’t drink. She’d respond to questions with one-word answers as she dutifully stared at my son.
I was so creeped out by the time our check arrived, I didn’t wait for Hunter to pay before I slid out of our booth. “Thank you for meeting us today. Coby, it’s time to go.”
“Okay,” he muttered, still moping. He’d gotten excited at the prospect of another grandma, and though she’d been staring at him through lunch, she’d hardly said a word. He might only be four, but he knew a rejection when he saw one.
