The Game of Denial by Brenda Adcock Page B

slow her heartbeat.
    "I was going to fix a light breakfast before I started work. Why don't you join me before the thundering herd wakes up?"
    "Let me take a quick shower first."
    Joan followed Evey into the house, appreciating the scent of freshly-brewed coffee wafting into the front room.
    "Bacon and eggs okay?" Evey asked as Joan started up the stairs to her room.
    "Sounds wonderful."
    Joan's hair was still damp and she ran her fingers through it as she entered the kitchen. She felt better, at least on the outside.
    Evey looked over her shoulder, her seemingly constant smile on her face. "Just in time," she said as she set two plates on the table.
    Joan poured a mug of coffee and pulled out a chair. "Smells divine," she sighed.
    Evey cut her eggs and filled her mouth, washing it down with a swallow of coffee. "Today's the big day," she said.
    "What?"
    "The rest of your family is arriving this afternoon, right?"
    Joan stared intently at her plate and nodded.
    "I gather you're not thrilled about seeing them," Evey said. "Frannie's told me you're not exactly close."
    "Fran's being very generous," Joan said as she leaned back and sipped her coffee. "If it had been my decision they wouldn't have been invited." Joan gazed blankly out the kitchen window. "That's not true," she finally said. "I would have invited my brother. Even though he has no parental rights, he is Fran's biological father."
    "And your rift with your mother?"
    "As I said last night, we haven't spoken since Martine's death. She believed Martine had corrupted me in some way and never acknowledged her as my spouse."
    "But the children..."
    "She does accept them as her grandchildren. Fran and Charmaine because Ron is their father and Tuck and Meg because I gave birth to them. Martine, even over my strenuous objections, insisted on sending school pictures and such every year. Occasionally the girls would visit their uncle and I suppose Mother saw them then." Joan took another sip of her drink. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound bitter. I promise not to start a scene while we're in your home."
    "I'm sorry the next few days may not be pleasant for you," Evey said.
    "I won't allow anything to ruin Fran and Brad's wedding."
     
     
    JOAN'S CELL RANG at three-thirty that afternoon. She looked at the incoming number and saw Tucker's name. "Hello," she said as she flipped open the phone.
    "We should be there in about fifteen minutes," Tucker's voice said. "Lock and load."
    "Thanks." They had decided that Tucker, Brad, and Fran would meet the private plane that was bringing Joan's worst nightmare to the peaceful Virginia countryside.
    Joan closed the phone and disconnected. She stepped onto the wrap-around porch and saw Evey striding toward the house. Brad must have called his mother as well. A few minutes later Giselle and the children rounded the side of the house and Charmaine, accompanied by Meg, stepped onto the porch. To Joan, they looked like an army preparing for battle. Well, that's what it would be, she thought. She moved to stand behind her children and grandchildren. It would be better if she were the last to greet her mother. She rested her hands on Meg's shoulders and squeezed them lightly.
    Meg looked over her shoulder and smiled at Joan. "Let the games begin," she said.
    "At least they're staying in town," Joan said.
    She was surprised to see a second vehicle following the farm's Suburban when they made the final sweeping curve leading to the house. Joan looked at Evey and shrugged.
    As soon as the vehicles stopped Brad, Fran, and Tucker got out. The second car pulled in next to the Suburban. Tucker opened the back door of the sedan much like a hotel valet might and held out his hand. A moment later a tall, rather elegant looking woman with snowy white hair stood next to Tucker and took his arm. Byron Carmichael stepped from behind the steering wheel. He smiled broadly and waved as he walked around the car to open the front passenger door. A woman in her