Let's Be Frank by Brea Brown Read Free Book Online Page A

Hans’ three daughters—Amber (eight), Ruby (six), and Violet (four)—and Sonya’s three—Jude (six), Justin (five), and Jeremiah (three)—surround the old Parker Brothers game board. Since Kingsley’s the oldest, he takes charge of asking the questions of dearly departed Grandma. Hermione has a pencil and a pad of paper, which she says she’ll use to write down the letters for the longer answers.
    “Grandma June, are you in Heaven?” Kingsley intones earnestly.
    Nothing happens. Bless their hearts, none of them has figured out that someone has to move the planchette. I gladly take up that responsibility and move it to Yes.
    The kids squeal, and I struggle to keep a straight face.
    “Do you like it in Heaven?”
    I slowly and smoothly nudge the pointer around the board, resting briefly on each of the letters: F-O-O-D-I-S-G-O-O-D.
    When Hermione reads the words in their entirety, she glances at me, as if to verify that’s what Grandma June meant.
    I shrug and pull the corners of my mouth down in a contemplative frown. “I hear the food’s excellent in Heaven, so that makes sense,” I state.
    She nods earnestly.
    Next question: “Are you here in this room with us?”
    Uhhhh…
    Yes.
    More squeals.
    “What do you want us to know?”
    The felt pads on the legs of the pointer squeak against the laminated game board. E-A-T Y-O-U-R V-E-G-E-T-A-B-L-E-S.
    “Eat your vegetables?” Remus questions, his freckled nose scrunched up. “Grandma June’s upsessed with eating.”
    I hang my head and fake-cough to hide my laughter.
    Amber pipes up, “Let me ask the questions. You ask dumb ones, Kingsley.”
    Seemingly unoffended, Kingsley yields to his peer.
    “Ahem. Grandma June. Who do you think is more handsomer, Nick or Nate?” she asks, all business-like. I can tell by the giggles from the girls that this is not a new topic.
    “Now, guys…” I say. “Grandma June doesn’t—”
    I jerk the planchette into motion, making a beeline for the “N” on the board. Widening my eyes at the kids, I say, “The next letter will give us our answer…” pretending to anxiously wonder. Our hands take the quick jump from the lower row of letters to the “A” directly above the “N.”
    I gasp. “Grandma June!” I fan my face with my free hand. “Thanks, but… we all know Nick is the handsome one.”
    “Yeah!” Amber agrees a little too quickly.
    “Nuh-uh!” say Hermione and Ruby in unison.
    The boys all make gagging noises.
    “Who cares?” yells Jeremiah.
    “You were pushing the thingy!” Amber accuses her Team Nate cousins.
    “Was not!” Hermione insists, shoving the planchette for real. “If I was pushing it, it would move like that. Grandma June was moving it!”
    “Ladies, ladies…” I coax. “Settle down. It’s just a game. For fun.”
    “But Uncle Nate, they’re cheating!” Amber cries.
    “Are not!” Hermione insists. “And anyway, stop calling him ‘Uncle Nate.’”
    “What else are we s’posed to call him?” Kingsley asks, his forehead wrinkled.
    All eyes lock on me, and while I try to figure out what, exactly, I am to them now (nothing, I finally come to the depressing conclusion), Hermione butts back in with, “I don’t know, but I heard Mom say to Dad that we have to walk on our tippy-toes around you. Why? Do you like to pretend you’re a ballerina? I like to pretend that sometimes.”
    “Me, too!” Ruby pipes up.
    “Nobody has to tiptoe around me,” I assure them all.
    “ My daddy said Nick was the better choice, and my daddy’s always right,” Amber boasts.
    “Tell that to his cholesterol levels,” I mutter before smiling brightly and sing-songing, “Let’s talk about something happier, like… super-viruses.”
    “Wait!” Kingsley shouts. “What do we call you? I always call you Uncle Nate, but now I’m not allowed?”
    I sigh and make eye contact with each of them in turn. “Listen. It’s complicated. So you guys can call me whatever you want,