"Annie, the meat looks a bit dry!" Juliette called from the patio. "Are you sure you're not overcooking it?"
That evening, after they'd finally left, taking nothing but full bellies and somehow forgetting to take their trash, I found myself picking popsicle sticks out of my flower beds while Bryan loaded the dishwasher.
"Bee, your mom moved our couch again."
"She's just trying to help, Nini!" he replied, but I caught the apologetic look in his eyes.
"And ate $200 worth of groceries. Again."
"I know, I know. I'll talk to her."
But we both knew he wouldn't. Bryan was caught between his loyalty to his family and his love for me. And I was caught between my desire to be a good wife and my rapidly depleting bank account.
The phone rang the next morning. Juliette's voice sailed through the receiver like a ship's horn.
"Annie, darling! We had such a wonderful time yesterday. The children are still talking about those ribs!"
"I'm glad they enjoyed them."
"Oh, and we're all coming for the Fourth of July! The whole gang. We'll make it a weekend. Won't that be fun?"
I gripped the phone tighter. "The whole... weekend?"
"Yes! We'll arrive Friday afternoon. Make sure you get plenty of those little sausages. The kids devour them! Oh, and that potato salad? Sarah hasn't stopped talking about it! Don't forget the ribs, hon. Juicy, like last time!"
The line went dead. I stared at the phone, feeling something shift inside me like a tectonic plate finding its new position.
"She's coming for the Fourth," I announced to Bryan that evening.
He looked up from his laptop, already sensing trouble. "That's... nice?"
"With everyone. The whole weekend."
"Oh?!?" He set down his laptop. "Are you okay with that?"
Was I okay with spending another $300 on groceries while being criticized for my hosting skills? Was I okay with having my home turned upside down by people who treated it like a free vacation rental?
"I'm fine!" I said, my smile steady as a plan clicked into place. "Absolutely fine."
Friday afternoon arrived with the subtlety of a marching band.
Three cars pulled into our driveway, disgorging the familiar cast of characters: Juliette in her oversized sun hat, Sarah and Kate with their arms full of nothing but designer purses, and six children who immediately began treating my lawn like their playground. Or rather, battleground!
"Annie!" Juliette swept me into a hug that smelled like expensive perfume and entitlement. "I hope you've got everything ready. We're absolutely starving!"
"Almost ready," I said, my smile so sweet it could have caused diabetes.
I set the picnic table beautifully with mason jars filled with wildflowers from my garden, cloth napkins folded just so, and a pitcher of fresh lemonade catching the afternoon sun. It looked magazine-perfect, which was exactly what I was going for.
"Oh, how lovely!" Sarah exclaimed, settling into her chair. "You always do such a nice job with these things."
"Where's the food?" Kate asked, glancing around expectantly.
"Coming right up!" I said, disappearing into the kitchen.
I emerged with a tray of cucumber sandwiches. The crusts were surgically removed and sliced into triangles so delicate they looked like they'd apologize for existing. Alongside them sat a pot of black tea, lukewarm and sulking like a spinster aunt left off the wedding invite list.
The silence that followed was so complete I could hear a neighbor's dog barking three houses away.
Juliette blinked slowly, like a computer trying to process an error message. "Um... where's the barbecue, dear?"
I tilted my head, channeling every ounce of Southern charm I'd ever witnessed. "Oh, I didn't shop this time. Since you all love our barbecue so much, I figured you'd want to bring the meat yourselves!"
The silence stretched like taffy. Sarah's mouth had fallen open. Kate looked like she'd been slapped with a wet fish.
