The Winner's Game by Kevin Alan Milne Read Free Book Online

from Grandma was just what I needed to calm me down.” I pause again, taking the postcard back and glancing once more at the picture of the Eiffel Tower. “We didn’t have much of a honeymoon, but I made your dad promise me we’d go to Paris for our twentieth anniversary, just like Grandma and Grandpa suggested.” I can feel my nostalgic smile waning.
    â€œThat’s this year, isn’t it?”
    I nod. “December thirteenth.”
    â€œSo? You still going?”
    How do I respond to that? For starters, I exhale very slowly while contemplating the complexity of…everything. The harsh reality is that the twenty-year celebration I once dreamed of is very unlikely. Not only would Ann’s health issues need to be considered, but there is also the matter of money. A trip like that would cost thousands of dollars, and as far behind as we are on medical bills, there is just no way. Worse, though, even if there weren’t the other obstacles, with the way we’ve been fighting I have to wonder if my marriage will even make it the six remaining months until December. “We’ll see,” I say before putting the postcard back in the frame and returning it to the hutch.
    When Cade and I join everyone in the living room, the discussion with Aunt Bev is chugging right along; I am genuinely impressed that a woman of her age—eighty-one years young—is intellectually nimble enough to keep even Ann and Bree on their toes.
    There is an empty space on the love seat next to Dell. I set the pitcher of lemonade on the coffee table and take a seat on the floor.
    â€œSo let me get this straight,” says Ann. “Out of the blue, the guy sitting next to you just reached over and took your cookie?”
    â€œExactly like that,” Bev insists. “But not just a cookie. It was one of those fancy biscottis, and I was saving it ’til the in-flight movie.”
    â€œWhat did you do?” asks Bree.
    â€œOh, for a while I just sat there, completely befuddled. Eventually, though, I got up the nerve to ask who gave him the right to steal my food. He says to me, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, lady.’ Well, if that didn’t frost my cookies—no pun intended. There were still crumbs in his mustache, for goodness’ sake, and I saw both wrappers—his and mine—sitting right there on his tray beside the peanuts! So I waited a minute or two, then I pushed the button for the stewardess. When she got there, I asked if I could have another biscotti, because mine had turned up missing, and I also asked for a fresh tea, since mine was spilled on the gentleman beside me.” She pauses to cackle, then continues. “‘No it ain’t,’ the hornswoggler says to me. When he looked down at his shorts to verify, I dumped my whole cup of tea square on his lap! Poor fellow about shot through the overhead compartment. About the time his nether region stopped steaming, the stewardess returned with my tea and biscotti and informed me that I’d been upgraded to first class!” She pauses once more, then asks, “Did you know they have slippers up there for everyone? And steamed towels to freshen up? I hope I can finagle one of those seats on the return flight tomorrow.”
    â€œYou haven’t changed a bit,” I tell her. “Same old Auntie Bev.”
    â€œâ€˜Old’ being the operative word,” Bev cautions. Her edgy smile suddenly dulls to a soft grin. “I’m slowing down, Emily. Maybe not my mind, but my body. These old bones are not what they used to be.” A sad shadow creeps over her face. “My sister is worse, I’m afraid.”
    The room is now very quiet. “How bad is she?”
    Before Ann’s sickness we used to go see Grandma Grace about every other month, and probably more than that during the summer. Lately, though, it’s been tough to make time.
    â€œShe has