Chapter 9 - The Trap Springs
The catered lunch wrapped up around three in the afternoon.
Uncle Greg stepped to the center of the patio with a microphone connected to a portable amplifier. He gave a sweet, slightly rambling five-minute speech about his mother-in-law, thanking everyone for coming, praising Trent’s family for making the drive from Powell, and announcing that it was time for dessert.
The caterers rolled out a rolling silver cart bearing an exquisite, two-tiered raspberry chiffon cake adorned with fresh sugar violets and eighty delicate white candles.
The entire backyard gathered around the patio, singing "Happy Birthday" in ragged, cheerful harmony. Grandma Elaine blew out the candles with a couple of short, determined puffs, to a round of enthusiastic applause and camera flashes.
Mom and Aunt Martha began slicing the cake, placing delicate portions onto small porcelain dessert plates.
I stood near the edge of the marquee tent with Leah, holding a small plate with two forks. We were quietly waiting for the crowd around Elaine to thin out so we could say our goodbyes and leave without an incident.
I had almost convinced myself we were going to make it out cleanly.
And then Courtney Miller opened her mouth.
Courtney was standing beside the dessert table, holding a small plate with a slice of cake. She had consumed at least three glasses of prosecco during the lunch, and her voice had reached that loose, arrogant volume that people use when they believe they are completely insulated by their peer group.
She looked across the patio, caught Paige’s eye, and then deliberately projected her voice toward the center of the lawn.
“Well,” Courtney chuckled loudly, tilting her plate toward Aunt Diana. “At least this cake actually made it to the table intact. Unlike the last family gathering, right, Paige?”
The silence that followed was instant and suffocating.
It was like somebody had pulled the master circuit breaker on the party. The laughter around Grandma Elaine’s chair died mid-breath. Uncle Greg, who was reaching for a napkin, froze with his arm outstretched. Trent flinched, his head whipping toward Courtney with an expression of pure, unadulterated panic.
Paige didn't look horrified, though. A tiny, toxic smirk curled the corner of her lips. She quickly masked it by lowering her chin and playing with her diamond tennis bracelet, letting out a small, performative sigh.
“Courtney, please,” Paige murmured, loud enough for twenty people to hear. “Let’s not ruin Grandma’s day with bad memories.”
Aunt Diana stepped forward, smoothing the front of her designer linen tunic, her eyes locking onto me with the cold, triumphant gleam of an apex predator that thinks its prey is cornered.
“Some memories can’t be helped, darling,” Diana said smoothly, addressing the circle of guests, including Trent’s parents. “When someone shows you who they are, you just have to pray for them and be grateful that the truth always comes to light eventually.”
Several of the extended cousins gave tight, uncomfortable chuckles. My mother, Brenda, went completely white. She looked at me, her eyes pleading, silently begging me to bow my head, take the slap, and let the moment pass.
*Don't make a scene, Eddie.*
*Just let it go, Eddie.*
*Keep the peace, Eddie.*
Beside me, Leah didn't flinch. Her hand simply moved to the small of my back, her fingers pressing firmly between my shoulder blades—a silent, immovable pillar of permission.
I looked at Courtney. I looked at Paige. I looked at Diana.
And then I smiled.
May you like
“Actually, Courtney,” I said, my voice cutting through the backyard with the crisp, unmistakable projection of a man who owned the room. “I’m really glad you brought that up.”
***
