“You haven’t mentioned what you do,” he commented to Shannon when there was a momentary lull in the chatter.
“Shannon drifts,” Stacy murmured, hearing the question.
Virginia seemed both annoyed and mildly alarmed by that remark. She looked at James as if worried he’d take Stacy’s comment the wrong way. “Shannon is so good at everything that she has a hard time narrowing her interests down to one career.”
Shannon grinned. “Yeah, that’s it. I’m too good to pin down.”
Her mother frowned at her.
Ignoring the silent censure, Shannon looked at James again. “I’ve had a few jobs that didn’t work out. You might say I get restless easily. But I just started a new business and I like it quite a bit.”
“What’s your new business?”
“I’m running a kids’ party business. I call it Kid Capers. Birthday parties mostly, though I do an occasional tea party or other special-occasion event. I handle all the planning and make the arrangements so all the parents have to do is show up and write a check afterward. It’s fun.”
“I see. Is there a big demand for kids’ party planners?” he asked, genuinely curious.
She shrugged. “The struggling economy isn’t helping, but there are still quite a few people who are willing to pay to have someone else take care of all the party details.”
“I’m surprised you’re free on a Saturday afternoon. Did you leave this day open to spend time with your family?”
“I, um, didn’t have any bookings today,” she admitted. “Like I said, a lot of people are pinching pennies these days.”
“Shannon really does throw some amazing parties,” her mother said loyally. “She has a binder full of themes for the clients to choose from or she takes their ideas and makes them work. She’s young, of course, and just getting started, but we’ve all offered to assist her in any way we can.”
“And as much as I appreciate the offer, I’ve told you repeatedly that I’ve got everything under control,” Shannon said with a firmness that made James suspect there had been a few arguments about that subject.
“By working part-time at a toy store to pay her bills,” Stacy murmured.
“Just twenty-five hours a week,” Shannon said quickly. “The manager there is very good to let me keep my weekends free for my new business and I enjoy working at the toy store. For one thing, it keeps me current on what’s popular with the kids for party themes.”
Shannon’s father chuckled. “I keep telling Shannon these fancy parties for kids are just downright frivolous. Back when our kids were little, we had cake and ice cream and a bunch of neighborhood pals over for pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey and Twister. That was the extent of it.”
“Mama hired a pony for my birthday once, remember, Hollis?” his brother, Lou, reminisced. “My tenth, I think. I still remember how much fun that was.”
“And she didn’t need a planner to help her with it,” Hollis said pointedly.
Shannon tilted her head at him. “Okay, Dad. We got your point.”
She didn’t sound cross, exactly, James decided, studying the family dynamics. More resigned and just a little irked, as if she were used to her family indulgently dismissing her work—rather as if she didn’t like it, but half expected it, anyway.
“Do you remember a special birthday party from your youth, James?” Lois asked, looking eager to jump into the conversation again.
“I never actually had a birthday party. My parents weren’t really into that sort of thing.”
The sudden silence around the table was rather jarring after so much chatter.
“You never had a birthday party?” Virginia asked. “Surely you had a few friends over for cake.”
“Well, no. But my parents always took me to a nice restaurant on my birthday.” Uncomfortable with that conversational direction, he picked up the last segment of his sandwich. “This hamburger is delicious. What seasonings did you use, Hollis?”
“That’s a family secret,” Hollis replied with a grin. “We don’t share it with anyone who isn’t born a Gambill or married into the family.”
“It’s Cajun seasoning and Worcestershire sauce,” Shannon said with a roll of her eyes. “So, you can make your own hamburgers without proposing to anyone here.”
“Now you’ve done it, Shannon,” Stu scolded her with mock outrage. “Now we have to kill him.”
“Stu’s only joking, of course, James,” Lois said in a stage whisper.
He smiled. “Yes, ma’am. I know.”
“When do we get the ice cream, Mama?” one of the twins called out.
Hollis climbed out from behind the picnic table. “The ice cream is ready. Who wants strawberry and who wants peach?”
“Strawberry!”
“Peach!”
“Chocolate!”
Karen sighed. “We don’t have any chocolate, Jack. You’ll get peach.”
The kids went crazy when the rich homemade ice cream was spooned out of the stainless-steel tubs. The adults attacked the dessert with almost as much enthusiasm. James accepted a bowl of strawberry ice cream, which he enjoyed very much.
Shannon jumped a couple of feet when one of her little nieces dropped a scoop of strawberry ice cream down the front of her top.
“Holy kamoley, that’s cold!” she said, her voice suspiciously high-pitched as she snatched frantically for paper napkins. Rather than helping, her family laughed heartlessly as she did a funny dance trying to swipe the sticky, ice-cold mixture from her skin.
“Since she started her kids’ party business, Shannon’s taken to saying holy kamoley in place of any curse words,” Stacy explained to James with an indulgent, big-sister smile. “It’s rather annoying, but we’re getting used to it.”
He thought it was sort of funny, himself. Never having had an older sibling—or a younger one, for that matter—he wondered if Shannon minded being treated like one of the little kids dashing around the tables.
It was an interesting family, he mused, continuing to study them as they finished the dessert. Noisy, freewheeling, outspoken, good-humored, they gabbed and joked and argued and teased. So very different from his own family. He wondered what it would have been like to grow up in a family like this one, how he might have turned out.
An argument erupted among some of the children, and though it was dealt with quickly and firmly, everyone had to laugh when little Sammy piped in with a gusty, “Holy ’moley!”
James grinned, thinking how much his friend Ron would enjoy hearing about this eccentric clan. Ron usually had a funny anecdote to share when the study group managed to get together these days; next time, James would have a story of his own.
“Can we go swimming again?” one of the kids asked when the ice cream bowls had been scraped clean.
“No more swimming today,” Stacy said firmly. “But we can play ball. We brought the plastic bats and balls and the little rubber bases and there’s plenty of room on the grass over there to play.”
“Will Uncle Stu be the pitcher?”