We made our way to the garden where the party was to take place. The fountains were burbling quietly and a string quartet was tuning up at one corner of the veranda. Waiters in black and white were loading up the buffet tables with food trays that looked more like art than food and those big bins that had the little cups of blue flame under them to keep the contents warm. I didn’t know what they were called, but I always thought those things looked cool. Strings of lights cast a pretty glow in the fading sun, but nothing could soften the cold, rigid look of the plant beds. I still thought they looked plastic.

Abigail wanted to set up a receiving line to greet the guests who had begun to arrive, and made it clear this was for family only and I wasn’t a part of it. I saw Stud burr up for an argument, but I managed to defuse it by saying I needed to sit anyway and give my leg as much rest as possible. My leg was fine, but he bought the story.

“Stay where I can see you,” he growled.

I nodded, grabbed a glass of wine from a nearby waiter, and sat at a table on the veranda where Stud had a clear view of me. I put the gift bag down on the table so he could see that too. Tension showed in the tightness of his face and shoulders. He looked at me and gave me a chin lift to ask if I was okay. I rolled my eyes and raised my glass at him. I’m good. Go play rich people! As if he heard me, he smiled his half smile, closed his eyes, and shook his head slightly. I hoped I could keep up and survive the night. Can you say guppy in a shark tank?

I sipped at the wine, trying not to grimace. Wine has never been my thing, and this one was nasty. Give me a good beer any day over this stuff. Since I knew only one person at the party who would ever talk to me and he was currently occupied, I spent the next bit of time people watching. The men were dressed mostly in tuxes, but a few were in expensive looking suits. I had the feeling these were custom-tailored ones, not the ones my brothers would buy off the rack at a discount warehouse to wear under protest at funerals or weddings. Slicked-back or styled hair, clean-shaven faces; a lot of them looked alike. I imagined they were all rich businessmen, lawyers, doctors, or politicians; a world I would never be a part of.

The women were another story. Glitter? I’d never seen so much sparkle from throats, fingers, and ears. Most of the older women wore long formals and the younger ones were in shorter cocktail dresses. They drifted together, air kissing each other on both cheeks like I’d seen in movies. I did find it odd that this was supposed to be a birthday party for a woman who was turning ninety. The crowd looked more the same age as Stud’s parents and younger. It made me wonder whose party this really was.

I turned my attention back to Stud and his family, standing at the garden entrance in family order. There was a huge difference between him and his family. Not in their appearance, as they were all beautiful people. It was deeper. Beauregard Sr. was first, looking every bit the king of his castle. He shook hands and nodded as he greeted the people coming down the line. There was a semi-smile on his face, but not one that reached his eyes. He looked more like this was an obligation than a party for his mother. He had not spoken one word to me since we arrived. Plastic flowers, I thought again. Abigail came next in a conservative beige gown with a boat neck bodice that sparkled with hundreds of glass beads sewn into it, and a draping chiffon skirt that reached the floor but had a slight rise in front so her beige pumps could be seen. I knew this style was chosen mainly so she wouldn’t have any problems with tripping or catching the skirt with her shoes. It wouldn’t be seemly for the queen to falter, now would it? I noticed that some people she would shake hands with and some she just nodded at politely.

Stud was the odd man out in a lot of ways. He’d finally relaxed and seemed to be enjoying himself. Whenever he recognized someone in the line, he shook hands, smiled genuinely, hugged with a few back slaps, laughed out loud, or all of the above. His ponytail and trimmed beard alone set him apart, but his open behavior outshone the others around him to the point they faded away.

Danforth was a cookie-cutter image of his father. Same tux, same haircut, same look, same nod and handshake, same semi-smile. I needed to remember later to ask Stud if Danforth was really his brother or if he was a clone of his father.

Vanessa stood at the end of the line, looking like an angel in a sleeveless white bandage dress that wrapped around her like a second skin. It was short, coming to about midthigh, and showed off her perfect curves. Her hair was clipped back in a silver and diamond barrette in a fall of gentle blonde curls that draped over her bare shoulders. A single large diamond on a silver chain hung between the tops of her perfect high breasts. Open-toed silver stilettos adorned her perfect feet with toenails tipped in white. Barbie at her finest.

The gauntlet continued as guest after guest came through; Beau Sr.’s nod, Abigail’s limp touch, Stud’s laugh, Danforth’s grunt, and Vanessa’s vague smile. Every once in a while, I’d catch Stud’s glance and his lifted eyebrow.

You good? he seemed to be asking. I would wink, roll my eyes, or give him a thumbs-up, much to his amusement. The others simply ignored me. I couldn’t say I wasn’t bothered by their censure, but since I wasn’t here to impress them, fuck it. I’d drink this nasty wine, smile a fake smile, and get through the next twelve hours until we could leave for the coast. The first thing I would do when I saw my own family would be to hug the shit out of them and tell them I loved them. That was before punching Patrick and Angus in their faces. I still owed them that for the roof thing.

The line finally petered out and Stud was able to get away. He came straight over to me as I stood up. My thigh burned a little, but I was still determined to make it through the night in my fabulous shoes.

“Glad that’s over with,” he said, meaning every word. He took my hand and pulled me closer for a brief hug. “Come on and meet the person I really came to see. Bea brought Nana in a few minutes ago by the side gate and got her settled on her throne. She’s the one redeeming person here tonight.”

He led me down the veranda steps to the covered area off to the side of the stone fountain. A wrinkled elderly lady was sitting in a wheelchair conversing with an equally wrinkled black lady. Stud’s grandmother and her caretaker were in complete opposition to the glitz around them and didn’t seem to care. The white-haired woman had on navy blue sweatpants and a sweatshirt that stated GO DUKE! across the chest. Her feet were encased in thick white socks and Keds. The only jewelry she wore was a plain gold band on her left hand. Her caretaker was an older black woman with a head of gray hair who was dressed in sweatpants and a sweatshirt that read GO HEELS! Clearly there was a serious rivalry between the two of them. I smiled as we approached. I could already tell why Stud would deal with his family to see her and be here for her birthday.

“’Bout damn time you came over here!” she barked at Stud when we entered the area. “Get your ass over here, boy, and introduce me to your girlfriend!”

I bit my lip at her demand and waited for Stud to correct her, but he simply laughed and bent to kiss his grandmother on her dry powdery cheek.

“Nana, this is Eva MacAteer. Eva, this is Thelma Franklin, my beloved, cantankerous, stubborn grandmother, and her sidekick Bea Hairston.”

“You forgot old. I did turn ninety a few days ago. Didn’t want this big hootenanny, but your mother had to have it and your father wanted the connections for Danforth. He’s trying to get that cotton head to run for the state senate. Lord knows what will happen if he gets in office.”

“Thelma, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, talking like that about your own grandson! And in front of Little Beau’s lady friend! What’s she gonna think of you?” Bea scolded. Her hands were busy with a crochet hook and were flying as they formed a granny square with an anchor pattern in the middle. I was fascinated by the deftness in her gnarled fingers.

“She’s gonna think I’m the only one in this family who hasn’t lost their mind. Come sit over here and tell me about yourself,” the tiny dynamo demanded, piercing me with her pale blue eyes. “What does your family do and how did you meet my grandson?”

“Nana,” Stud breathed in mock warning.

“My family is in construction as in we design and build bars and pubs,” I answered as I sat on a white rental chair near the older woman. Stud moved behind me and placed his hands on my bare shoulders. I did my best to ignore the light stroke of his fingers.

“We are the architects and the crew for most of the work. That’s how I met Stud. My family just finished rebuilding his club’s bar and grill.”

Her look was steady. I could see where Stud got his intense focus as well as his gorgeous eyes. “I’m not surprised. You look like you could bench press a horse. Maybe two.” Her tone was one of admiration, not derision. “Takes a strong woman to keep my boy in line. What did you call him? Stud?”

I cleared my throat. “Umm—yeah, Stud. It’s his club road name and the only one I’ve ever called him.”

“Makes no sense to me why he’d want a name like that. My husband’s name was Beauregard. Perfectly fine family name, though it’s been a little tarnished now and then. Stud, eh? Probably suits him well. You know when he was a boy, I used to call him my little Bo-Bo. Did he tell you that?”

“Jesus, Nana!” Stud chuckled and turned red. Red! I was so keeping this for later blackmail material.

I bit my lip, trying to hold in the laughter, and shook my head. “No, he didn’t. He doesn’t talk much about this side of his family.”

The old woman snorted. “I can believe that! After the shit they pulled!”

“Now, Thelma! You shouldn’t be dragging that mess out here,” Bea admonished quietly, her fingers still flying.

I felt Stud go still against my back and his hands stopped their movement. Betsey had alluded to something bad that had happened and now Stud’s grandmother mentioned it, too. I expect whatever it was didn’t need to come out in the middle of a ninetieth birthday party.

“You’re really good at crocheting, Bea. I like the color scheme. What are you making?” I changed the subject quickly.

Bea looked up with a sympathetic and knowing look. This wasn’t her first rodeo. “I’m workin’ on a new afghan for my youngest grandson. He’s getting ready to graduate from high school and just got accepted into Chapel Hill. I’ve made all my grandbabies afghans when they left home. I’d like to think it keeps them warm and reminds them there’s someone that loves them and thinks of them all the time.”

My thoughts drifted to Stud’s afghan, but I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure if I should admit I’d been in his bedroom.

Bea continued. “Been working all my life. I can’t just sit with my hands not busy. Don’t matter if it’s TV watching or what. Thelma just gives me grief ’bout workin’ all the time but I like it, and as long as my fingers still work, Imma gonna keep ’em busy.”

Thelma snorted again. “What’s in the bag?” she asked, clearly ready to move on.

“I—uh—don’t crochet, but I—um—sew.” I handed her the plain brown bag. “Sorry for not wrapping it fancier, but since we travelled by bike there wasn’t a lot of room.”

Bea’s hands stopped as she watched her charge pull out and spread open the log cabin lap quilt I’d been working on during my downtime at the Lair. The purple and green strips alternated in layers, showing a block pattern that was both simple and complex at the same time. I’d used a gold border between each larger piece, and extra-thick batting which took quite a while to complete, but would be extra warm and soft.

“You make this, child?” Bea asked, reaching her fingers out to stroke over the material. “Nice even stitches. I bet this took a while.”

“I had time,” I said, getting a little uncomfortable, but still enjoying the praise. “I understand the need to keep your hands busy.”

“Mardi Gras colors,” Thelma said as her bent fingers smoothed over the quilt. “My husband and I went there when he was stationed at the naval base in New Orleans. He was a military lawyer, but we didn’t have a pot to piss in back then so the best we could do was to go see the parades. I loved it so much! The lights. The colors.”

Her eyes twinkled and voice drifted back into the memory. “I earned a lot of beads, let me tell you!”

“Shit, Nana!” I heard Stud say under his breath. I couldn’t tell if he admired his grandmother for her boldness or was embarrassed by her admission.

“My good gracious, Thelma Franklin! I cain’t believe you showed off your titties in public! For plastic beads that ain’t got no value? I say you shoulda held out for cash money!” Bea picked up her crochet needle again, and it started flashing in her nimble hands. “That’s a fine-looking quilt, Eva. You done a good job. I’m bettin’ you did that dress too, seein’ as it’s fitted right proper. Has them same tiny stitches.”

Stud’s fingers tightened on my neck. “Yeah, she made it, Bea. Designed it too.” His thumbs caressed my shoulders, both stroking up to the back of my head. I felt a rush of goose bumps prick up as a shot of electricity ran down my spine.

“That’s really nice work,” Bea intoned, with a sidelong glance at her charge. “Nice to see somethin’ other than Duke blue!”

Thelma had been stroking the quilt now spread over her lap. She immediately latched on to the bait.

“Blue Devils over Tarheels any day!” she barked, scowling. “Best damn basketball team ever!” she declared.

“Maybe basketball, but we’re in football season now. My Tarheels can hold their own against anyone! Been undefeated this year, thanks to my grandson. You’re gonna lose big time, you old Blue Devil!”

The women argued back and forth a bit, showing off knowledge of a good number of the teams’ statistics from past years and their current records. I could see the affection between them even as they poked at each other. I tilted my head back and caught Stud’s amused expression. His attention came to me. “Did you go to Duke or Chapel Hill?” I asked.

“Both. Got my undergrad at UNC Chapel Hill and my law degree from Duke.”

“Where did you go?”

It took me a moment to realize Thelma was addressing me. Her piercing look was back.

“I didn’t. I’ve worked in my family business all my life. I got a high school diploma and kept working.” I swallowed a bit nervously but didn’t back down. If my lack of formal education was a problem, it was hers and not mine.

She nodded. “We used to call that the school of hard knocks. Some folks would benefit from taking those lessons rather than a four-year degree in something like art appreciation. Least if you choose art you need to be an artist, not just appreciate it!”

Stud cleared his throat like he was stifling himself.

“Now tell me something, Eva. This is really important for anyone who’s with my grandson. Devils or Heels?” Her eyes bored into mine and she wore a serious scowl on her face, like my answer was going to determine life or death.

“Neither,” I said. “My family is Irish so there’s only one team worth anything,” I stated with as much seriousness as I could manage. “Go Notre Dame!”

She slowly blinked. Then her face cracked into a wide smile and she seemed to burst. She clapped her hands together in her lap and threw her head back, laughing loud and real. I could see why Stud had stayed closer to his grandmother than the rest of his stuffy family. Her noise drew a lot of attention, and I could see Abigail, Danforth, and Vanessa approaching out of the corner of my eye.

“Are you well, Mother Franklin?” Abigail asked in a singsong voice, looking at everyone around the area, clearly hoping no one was paying attention to the cackling woman.

“Yes, I’m fine. Don’t hover!” she snapped at the Southern queen. “Eva was just telling me about her schooling and such. You know she designs clothes? That dress is one of her originals. Beautiful work. Nice to see a woman with some talent dating my Bo-Bo. Just look at this lap quilt! Handmade original!”

Abigail stuttered, “Ah—well—it is very nice.”

Vanessa looked a little sick.

Danforth gulped down his glass of that hideous wine and reached out to a passing waiter for another.

I tried not to laugh at the name Bo-Bo but lost the battle.

“What’s so funny?” Abigail all but hissed at me. I felt Stud’s fingers tighten on my shoulders, but I raised my hand to rest on his. Bea caught the calming gesture and nodded her approval.

“I’m just imagining what the other club members will say the first time I call him ‘Little Bo-Bo.’ I’ve got some serious firepower now! Thanks, Mrs. Franklin!”

“Oh, call me Nana. I ain’t been Mrs. Franklin for years.”

I lightly stroked my fingers over Stud’s and felt him relax again. I really was having a pretty good time, considering. Just a few hours more until the party was over. I could survive this.

“Aren’t you getting tired, Mother Franklin? Bea, maybe it’s time Mother Franklin retires for the night,” Abigail dismissively asserted. I began to wonder again whose party was this really supposed to be?

“I’m enjoying my grandson, whom I haven’t seen in way too many years, and you lot aren’t going to stop me!” She turned her gaze to Stud. “You bring your motorbike, boy?”

Stud answered with a big grin breaking out over his face. “Yes, ma’am, I did. You think you’re up for it?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely!” The old woman chortled, much to the continued embarrassment of Abigail. “Best birthday present ever is to ride bitch with my grandson!”

Abigail turned bright red. Vanessa froze like a marble statue. Danforth grabbed another glass. Stud laughed loudly, and I lost it completely.

“You go, Nana!” I shouted and wiped at the tears coming from my eyes. “I hope when I reach ninety, I can still ride bitch. No, scratch that. I’m getting my own bike. I hope I can still ride it at ninety!”

The old woman held up her hand for a high-five, which I tapped. “You go, girlfriend!”

Bea had put away her yarn in a big colorful bag next to her chair. “Guess I’ll get the cane and help you out to the driveway. Beau, you get your bike and meet us there. Thelma, you do what Beau says and he’ll keep you safe.”

Stud leaned down and whispered in my ear. “Are you okay on your own for a bit?”

I reached up and caressed his cheek. “I’m good, babe. I’ll wander around a bit until you get back. Go take your grandma for a ride.”