Devonne Brown

“Room for one more?” Shelly said with that sideways grin of hers and Wisconsin accent. The daughter of my mom’s estranged sister was at my door. I’d recognize her anywhere. She had the same stringy hair and bangs she did when she was nine, and her mom left her with my parents for the summer, maybe for the rest of her life. How do you abandon your kid?

“Come in,” I said through gritted teeth and a forced grin. “Guys, Shelly is here. Mom and Janice’s sister from Wisconsin’s daughter. You probably don’t remember Diane, nobody talked about her.” I tried to act casual, and excused myself to the kitchen and poured some wine. I needed a minute. What the hell was she doing here? She didn’t even like me, she’d made that very clear in a nasty note she’d written to me a couple of years ago. 

“Can I have a glass of that?” she asked behind me.

I pulled a wine glass out of the cabinet and filled it full of red wine, handed it to her, and point blank asked her. “Why are you here, Shelly?”

Again, the sideways grin. “I wanted to see my family. You’re family. I wanted to see the famous twins. See how an author lives,” she was still grinning and looking around the kitchen, taking notes. I could tell she was underwhelmed and satisfied with what she saw.

“Mom died. I promised her I’d reconnect with the family. You’re the first one I thought about. Reconnecting. It’s the holidays, that’s what people do. Giving thanks and forgiveness. I forgive you for everything,” she said. She took a long drink of wine and coughed. “What is this? I expected good wine at your house, not this cheap shit. She took another, slower drink. 

“I’m sorry to hear about Diane. I always loved her. Why didn’t you call when she died?” I wasn’t surprised that she didn’t call though. This was more her operating style. Drama had always been her best trick. Seven kids by seven dads. Lots of drugs and alcohol. Blaming others for her problems. Taking advantage of everyone when she could. Showing up unannounced somewhere when you least expected it, and demanding to be entertained. 

I really didn’t like Shelly, and wondered what kind of act of congress it would take to get her out of my house.

“Where are the boys? I’m dying to meet them again. They were ten when I saw them last. It was at your mom’s funeral,” she said. Then she asked for a refill of my cheap wine.

I obliged her request and sent her to the boys, who were watching the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show. It was sad that their holiday had to have a glitch in it as well. I could hear her squeal in delight as she preempted their program. Their muffled voices and her loud one wafted toward me. 

I went to the bedroom and put on all the diamonds and gold I could fit on my fingers, then hid the rest. Shelley’s trip to the bathroom might make an expensive and unwarranted detour. I knew how her mind worked, and still had no idea what she was doing here. 

Norris jumped up in his window for cream and I knocked him down, aggravated that he too was taking advantage of my good nature. My anger at her arrival spilled everywhere. 

I’d always heard that angels come to us in disguise and we must treat travelers as if they may just be an emissary from God sent to bring us a blessing. No holy thing would present itself as Shelley, of that I was sure. Her arrival had to be a demon sent to wreck my holiday with my guys, I was certain of it. I had no idea how to get her out of  my house, but it had to be done. 

The old emergency call trick from a friend, the kind used on a bad date, would have to happen. Thanksgiving be damned.