Page 67 of In a Word, Yes

“Yeah, tell us who, Billie,” Nytasha says.

“Oh. Right. Yes.” Billie pauses long enough to ensure all six pairs of eyes are on her. She draws a breath. “Steph. Stoneback.”

And so it goes with secrecy in a small town.

Ian shoots me a glance. He looks like he’s going to be sick.

“Who?” This, from Nytasha.

“What do you mean, who?” Billie says. “Steph Stoneback. You know, the author.”

Bernard squints. “Is she the one who wroteDelta Deception? Fairly good book. A little light on the romance for me. Lacked spice, if memory serves.”

Billie shoots out of her chair. She bustles over to the New Releases display, snatches a copy ofPinot and Peril, and raises it high like it’s one of those laminated airline safety brochures. “Steph Stoneback. See here?” She taps a manicured fingertip on the cover. “See what this says? ‘New York Timesbestselling author.’ Ian, I thought for sure that you, at least, would be thrilled at the prospect.”

Ian’s smile is tight. His face pale. “Of course, of course, Billie. It’s an intriguing rumor, for certain. Stoneback’s a top seller for us. Several of her books have been made into movies. I hear they’re not too bad. Would you all excuse me for a moment? Carry on, carry on.”

Without Ian anchoring the leadership role, the air in the room shifts. Everyone looks around, as if the purpose of our gathering is now unclear.

For reasons I may never fully understand, I take it upon myself to move things along. “Well,” I hear myself say, “I for one can’t wait to hear what you brought to read, Billie.”

Wyatt shoots me a grateful smile. “Me too,” he says.

He’s had a haircut, and I can’t decide how I feel about it. Also, I’m not sure why I should have an opinion on this.

Billie is still reading when Ian returns carrying a steaming mug and appearing more composed.

A round of kudos and minor critique of Billie’s chapter follows.

“Lucy,” Ian says, “did I see you raise your hand? Any wins on your Smith Corona this week?”

“I did,” I say, and it comes out super breezy, which makes twice tonight I’ve exercised my acting chops. “Smitty,” I add, to detract from the fact that my hand trembles as I distribute copies of my single-page essay. “I’ve nicknamed the typewriter.”

Not major trembling, but enough that it’s possible someone picked up on it. I press on.

Before I begin, I instinctively look over at Wyatt, knowing I’ll find strength there. I’m not sure if it’s due to our shared history or if it’s something else. I just sense he’s in my corner.

When I finish reading, there’s a beat of silence. Truth is, I like my piece. But I’m here to learn. “Any suggestions?”

Looking up, I’m met with tender smiles. Even from Sunny. I don’t know whether this means they like it or if they’re simply proud of me for making progress, and I’m not sure it matters. It feels nice.

Until the praise starts.

“Lovely. Absolutely lovely, my dear,” Bernard says.

Billie dabs her eyes. “Oh, Lucy,” she says. “Your beautiful writing transported me. I was there. I could see your Nana. Smell her kitchen. Feel her love. Thank you for sharing.”

And on it goes, and there’s nothing I can do to prevent the blush rising to my cheeks.

Finally, Nytasha chimes in. “But what is it exactly? I mean, it’s kind of sweet. I didn’t know my own grandparents. Well, except for my Grandma Hausenberg, but she wasscary.”

Oof.

“No offense, Lucy,” she says. “But what’s it for?”

Ian shifts in his chair to face her. “Nytasha, not everything we do or create has to fulfill an assigned purpose.”

A fun conversation ensues about the function of art in society. But I keep thinking that maybe my piece of writing already served its purpose. Because in a way, grandparent-deprived Nytasha just spent time in Nana’s kitchen.