quietly, taking whatever Mimi cared to dish out.
“Well,” Mason said, “I still don’t fancy being a sheriff.”
“I fancy the office staying in my family.”
“But I’m not your family,” Mason said. “So what good does that do?”
“You are my family,” Mimi said. “You’re just like any other Jefferson brother to me.”
Mason stared at her. Last shrugged, looking morosely at his plate, wondering if Helga dared step inside the room to ladle seconds. Then again, if he got up to get the food himself, he wouldn’t have to sit and listen to the two of them square off, entertaining though it might be. Nanette threw her milk sippie cup, and both of them reached simultaneously to get it. Mason patiently said, “No, Nanette,” and Mimi said, “No, Nanette,” and it was like parenting in surround sound.
“I think I’ll just mosey off to find Annette,” he said, and both Mimi and Mason turned on him.
“No,” they said together.
“You be referee,” Mimi said.
“I need pie if that’s going to happen,” Last said, “and Helga’s afraid to come in the room.”
“Pie, please, Helga,” Mason called, and the housekeeper quickly brought delicious pieces of pecan pie that made sitting through the Battle of the Hardheads worth it. Last barely listened to them as they continued discussing the sheriff problem. The good thing, he told himself, was that he and Esme never acted this way. She just ignoredhim and went about her business, never trying to incorporate him into any plans.
Which was annoying, Last thought with a frown. Wouldn’t he rather sit and debate like his brother with his good friend?
He chewed, savoring the sugary pecan flavor, watching the three of them at the end of the table. Nanette made circles with her spilled milk while Mimi and Mason said their piece on both sides. Neither of them listened to the other, and so Last felt no need to referee anything.
In fact, he quietly slid Mason’s piece of pie his way, happily forking into it. If only Mimi would come argue with Mason every evening, his brother wouldn’t want Last to share meals. Last wouldn’t feel guilty about Mason living in this big house alone. Sure, there were plenty of brothers around, but it wasn’t the same. When people had new families, they spent all their time with those new families, and single uncles were sort of solitary curiosities.
The debate raged on, so Last reached for Mimi’s piece of pie, feeling pretty full but not wanting to pay too much attention to anything that was being said. Nanette looked at him as he snitched the pie, her eyes round with surprise.
“Bad habit,” he whispered to her. “Don’t start it.”
Mimi reached over and pulled her pie back. “Last, this pie is worth its weight in gold. I couldn’t allow you to sneak it from me, even though I adore you.”
Mason blinked. “You don’t adore me, ” he said.
They all sat very still for a moment.
“It was a figure of speech,” Mimi said.
“But still,” Mason said, “you don’t even really like me.”
Last looked at the ceiling, wishing he could turn himself into a fly and buzz out the door.
“I like you,” Mimi said, “like I like all the boys.”
Mason took that in for a second, then looked around for his pie. When he saw that Last had two plates in front of him, he glared at Last. “Last,” Mason said, “it’s high time you quit thinking everything has to be your way.”
Last’s eyes bugged. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“No,” Mason said, his tone definitive. “You cannot be the baby with the rose-colored glasses anymore. You have to get a real job and a real life and…you have to stop living off my hard work.”
Mimi gasped. Last stared at his older brother, who had suddenly become gargoylelike at the head of the table.
“You’ve just been on easy street too long,”Mason said, “and it’s time for you to share the burden of running this ranch if you’re going to live here.”
Mimi
“Well,” Mason said, “I still don’t fancy being a sheriff.”
“I fancy the office staying in my family.”
“But I’m not your family,” Mason said. “So what good does that do?”
“You are my family,” Mimi said. “You’re just like any other Jefferson brother to me.”
Mason stared at her. Last shrugged, looking morosely at his plate, wondering if Helga dared step inside the room to ladle seconds. Then again, if he got up to get the food himself, he wouldn’t have to sit and listen to the two of them square off, entertaining though it might be. Nanette threw her milk sippie cup, and both of them reached simultaneously to get it. Mason patiently said, “No, Nanette,” and Mimi said, “No, Nanette,” and it was like parenting in surround sound.
“I think I’ll just mosey off to find Annette,” he said, and both Mimi and Mason turned on him.
“No,” they said together.
“You be referee,” Mimi said.
“I need pie if that’s going to happen,” Last said, “and Helga’s afraid to come in the room.”
“Pie, please, Helga,” Mason called, and the housekeeper quickly brought delicious pieces of pecan pie that made sitting through the Battle of the Hardheads worth it. Last barely listened to them as they continued discussing the sheriff problem. The good thing, he told himself, was that he and Esme never acted this way. She just ignoredhim and went about her business, never trying to incorporate him into any plans.
Which was annoying, Last thought with a frown. Wouldn’t he rather sit and debate like his brother with his good friend?
He chewed, savoring the sugary pecan flavor, watching the three of them at the end of the table. Nanette made circles with her spilled milk while Mimi and Mason said their piece on both sides. Neither of them listened to the other, and so Last felt no need to referee anything.
In fact, he quietly slid Mason’s piece of pie his way, happily forking into it. If only Mimi would come argue with Mason every evening, his brother wouldn’t want Last to share meals. Last wouldn’t feel guilty about Mason living in this big house alone. Sure, there were plenty of brothers around, but it wasn’t the same. When people had new families, they spent all their time with those new families, and single uncles were sort of solitary curiosities.
The debate raged on, so Last reached for Mimi’s piece of pie, feeling pretty full but not wanting to pay too much attention to anything that was being said. Nanette looked at him as he snitched the pie, her eyes round with surprise.
“Bad habit,” he whispered to her. “Don’t start it.”
Mimi reached over and pulled her pie back. “Last, this pie is worth its weight in gold. I couldn’t allow you to sneak it from me, even though I adore you.”
Mason blinked. “You don’t adore me, ” he said.
They all sat very still for a moment.
“It was a figure of speech,” Mimi said.
“But still,” Mason said, “you don’t even really like me.”
Last looked at the ceiling, wishing he could turn himself into a fly and buzz out the door.
“I like you,” Mimi said, “like I like all the boys.”
Mason took that in for a second, then looked around for his pie. When he saw that Last had two plates in front of him, he glared at Last. “Last,” Mason said, “it’s high time you quit thinking everything has to be your way.”
Last’s eyes bugged. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“No,” Mason said, his tone definitive. “You cannot be the baby with the rose-colored glasses anymore. You have to get a real job and a real life and…you have to stop living off my hard work.”
Mimi gasped. Last stared at his older brother, who had suddenly become gargoylelike at the head of the table.
“You’ve just been on easy street too long,”Mason said, “and it’s time for you to share the burden of running this ranch if you’re going to live here.”
Mimi
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