I tilted my head and smiled.
“Oh, I didn’t shop this time. Since everyone loves our barbecue so much, I thought you would want to bring the meat yourselves.”
The silence was beautiful.
Sarah’s mouth opened. Kate froze. Juliette blinked like her brain had just stopped loading.
“There’s a butcher about fifteen minutes down Riverview Road,” I continued cheerfully. “They’re open until six. The grill is ready, and there’s fresh charcoal in the storage bin.”
Juliette’s face tightened.
“But you invited us,” she said.
“Actually,” I replied calmly, “you invited yourselves.”
The children immediately began protesting.
“Where are the hot dogs?” Tyler demanded.
“I want hamburgers!” Madison cried.
Three-year-old Connor poked at his sandwich and said, “This tastes like plants.”
Juliette stood so fast her chair scraped across the deck.
“This is incredibly rude, Annie. We’re family.”
“Exactly,” I said. “And family helps family. We have hosted every holiday for four years. I thought it was time everyone pitched in.”
