Page 23 of It's Always Sonny

I nod again, but my heart isn’t in it.

We’ve had a variety of this conversation before, and everything she says makes sense, like usual.

But there’s a difference between hearing something and feeling it.

I hear everything Linda’s saying. I even agree with her … on paper.

I don’t believe her, though.

You can’t be on the receiving end of a lifetime of rejection from your parents and not come away with some baggage.

I own the full Louis Vuitton set.

Linda stands before I do, and when the other goats follow her like she’s their leader (and even with my cold, dead heart, I don’t blame them), Sweetness stays with me.

I don’t let this make my heart ache. I don’t let myself feel special. Sweetness has limb differences that make it hard for him to move.

That’s all.

Rusty comes back from the barn and looks at Sweetness and me. “Wow, someone’s bonding.”

“I’m not bonding,” I argue.

“Wasn’t talking about you,” Rusty says with a smile.

“Parker named him Sweetness,” Linda says. “After Walter Payton.”

“Good one.” Rusty chuckles. “Baby goats don’t like isolation. The other two bonded immediately, but they haven’t connected as much with Sweetness.”

Outrage surges in my chest. Why would they leave this adorable little goat out? Because he’s different? Because his body isn’t perfect? I hold him close until he reaches his head up and tries to nip the collar of my jacket.

I snicker quietly. “Okay, Sweetness, calm down.” I rise to my feet, and Louis the Llama waltzes over and puts his head down to smell the little goat. Sweetness bumps his head into Louis’s head, and Louis nuzzles him.

I do not tear up.

Rusty takes the goat from me, and he and Louis walk Sweetness over to Linda, and I absolutely do not need to sniff to keep my nose from running, because these are farm animals, and who cares?

Not me.

Chapter Eight

Parker

The guests are due to arrive in thirty minutes, and I’ve officially triple checked everything. Twice. When I learned the grandmother’s family immigrated to Virginia from Italy when she was little, I scoured the Internet for the types of snacks and candies most popular in Virginia when she was young, ordered everything I could find, and made a goody box for her. I also added them to the snack table I’ll keep open in the pavilion between meals, just to let her numerous grandkids and great grandkids get to experience a little of her childhood. Hunting for popular Italian treats from that same timeframe was harder, but I found one—a chocolate called Galatine. I added it to her goody box, just in case it stirs up a memory.

And, because I was in a searching mood, I looked up what kinds of candies were popular in Paris in the ’70s. My maternal grandfather was a diplomat, and my mom grew up in France. I found a chocolate that tickles my memory. My mother’s parents died when I was young, but this candy looks like something I found in my mother’s stocking when I sneaked downstairs early Christmas morning when I was little. I ate three of them and left the wrappers, and my mother’s anger was a sight to behold. Little Parker didn’t care. Little Parker was bold as brass. Before she realized her parents were happy to ignore her for days when she acted out.

Being ignored by the people who feed and clothe you has a way of making you comply.

When I saw the candy online, I sent a box of it to my mother with a simple note: “Saw this and thought of you.”

It has to be a coincidence that my mother calls at this moment, right? Of course, she insists we talk once a week, and because I dodge her calls as often as I do, that means she calls a lot.

I’m sitting at the kitchen table in the small main cabin where the reunion family—the Castagnos—will check in. Should I answer the phone? She’s probably calling me because she got the candy, come to think of it. If I answer now, I have a built in excuse for hanging up if things go bad. If I don’t answer now, whatever she has to say will only bubble and build in her mind until I finally do answer, and then I’ll wish I didn’t wait.

I answer.

“Parker,” she says in a tone not even Season One Emily Gilmore could match.