Operation Bailey Birthday: A Bailey Novella (The Baileys Book 1) Read online

  “That new princess movie, sweetie,” she says.

  “Princess Helena?” Maisey asks with excitement.

  Mom nods.

  “That’s so cool.” Maisey leans back in her seat.

  Mabel slumps over the table, looking bored and obviously done helping.

  “It is cool, but he and Aunt Phoenix don’t get along,” Dad says.

  “So?” I ask.

  Dad tugs on one of my braids. “Sometimes people don’t like it when the people they love are with relatives of people they don’t like. It’s complicated.”

  “Why?”

  He laughs. As usual when our questions trap him in a corner, he looks to my mom to save him.

  “You’ll understand when you’re older,” she says, patting Mabel to sit up. Mom whispers something.

  Mabel heads to the couch, lies down, and pulls a blanket over herself.

  “Why does she get out of doing this?” Maisey whines.

  “Because she’s only six.”

  “I’m only eight,” Maisey whines again.

  “Go,” Mom says.

  Maisey shoots me an expression to tease me because she’s free and I’m still stuck helping. But I like it when I have Mom and Dad all to myself.

  Then Dad talks about the sports place he owns with Uncle Jamison. When he looks at me, I cringe because I can already guess what he’s going to ask.

  “Basketball?” His hopeful eyes take in my expression before I can respond.

  Being the eldest daughter of a sports fanatic like my dad and not having one athletic bone in my body sucks. Everyone always says things about my dad and how he could’ve had a baseball career if he hadn’t hurt his shoulder in high school. Mom always gets a sad look on her face whenever anyone talks about it.

  Dad runs a youth sports center where he spends his time teaching children how to play baseball, softball, and basketball while Uncle Jamison concentrates on soccer. After my cousin Calista got a scholarship to UCLA and some other boy got one to Stanford, it made them so much busier.

  “King,” my mom says in that voice she uses when she’s not really mad, but she’s not happy either.

  “You have the height and I think you’d be good at it,” he says to me.

  Mom sighs. She gets me in ways my dad doesn’t sometimes. Dad always talks about my height as though it’s a good thing, but I’m too tall for my age. The tallest in my class out of all the girls. I hate it.

  “She doesn’t care for sports. She’s more like me. All about books and learning.” Mom winks at me, sliding another finished box over to the completed stack.

  “True? I should quit now?” Dad looks at me.

  I want to scream for Maisey and Mabel to come back. Maisey would be raising her hand and jumping up and down for my dad to teach her basketball, and Mabel would probably just talk about something else.

  I nod, not wanting to say the words that will make my dad sad.

  He tugs my braid again. He always does that when he has to think about something a little longer. “What are you reading right now?”

  “Because of Mr. Terupt. He’s a schoolteacher in the fifth grade. And…”

  Dad laughs and Mom smiles.

  I look between them. “What?”

  “You just got so excited. As excited as I was the first time I hit a double in baseball. Go on.” He smiles at me and it makes me think maybe he’s not that sad after all that I don’t want to play basketball.

  “You get all seven kids’ points of view and…” I ramble on about the book.

  Dad and Mom act interested. I hope they are. It’s such a good book.

  “Can I borrow it after you’re done?” Dad asks.

  “Dad…” I roll my eyes.

  “Hey.” He tugs my braid. “I want to read it and find out what about this book excites you so much.”

  I sigh. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” he says and passes me a box to put a ribbon around.

  Our front door opens and that can only mean one person is here. Even though my dad has a huge family—like, a monstrous size—most of them knock or ring the doorbell.

  “Yoo-hoo!” Great-Grandma Dori says.

  Maisey gets up from her play kitchen and barrels over to the door. Mom runs into the kitchen and throws Dad a bunch of dishtowels, which he tosses over the already prepared boxes. With one swipe of his arm along the table, Dad dumps everything into a bag. Jordan Almonds spill across the floor and I fall to my knees to help my dad pick them up.

  Great-Grandma walks in and Dad’s able to hide his hands behind his back, but the candies are all spilling out of my hands.

  “What’s going on?” Great-Grandma asks.

  “Nothing. Just a spill.”

  Grandma inspects my hands, prying my fingers open. “Jordan Almonds? I haven’t seen one of these since way back when I got married.”

  “Want one?” I ask.

  “It’ll break my dentures. No one my age can eat those things. Funny, I was just bringing over these chocolate color-coded candies. Gold and white and silver.” She drops the bag in her hand on the table, glancing at the pile under the dishtowels at the end of the table.

  “For what?” Dad asks, dropping a handful of almonds in the trash.

  “Just in case someone needed favors for something. We’re such a big family, there’s always something to celebrate.”

  Dad coughs something and my mom lightly touches his arm.

  “That’s sweet, Dori.” Mom comes over and inspects the bags. “This is a lot though.”

  “There’s more in the van. Earl was supposed to be right behind me.” She looks back toward the front door.

  Dad rolls his eyes. “I have no idea why you trust a man with a medical condition like narcolepsy to take you all around town.”

  “Earl is fine. He’s happy to do it. And I keep an eye on his medication.”

  Dad stomps down the hall and out the door, Maisey following. She’s a total daddy’s girl.

  “Dori, Kingston is right. It’s not safe. That’s a serious medical condition and he shouldn’t be driving.” Mom ushers Great-Grandma to sit down, sliding out the chair for her.

  “I have great vision and I’d never put myself at risk.” She pats Mom’s hand. “I’m good. How is your mom?”

  “I finally convinced her to close Cozy Cottage B&B. She’s been having flare-ups, but all in all, the doctor says she’s good. Just run down. I’m hoping it helps that she’s not running the business anymore.” Mom shrugs. “It was a hard decision.”

  “I can imagine. I remember when I finally told Savannah I was done at Bailey Timber. It’s hard to let go. Your mom loved her guests and loved watching them fall in love with Lake Starlight.”

  Mom nods but doesn’t say much. Grandma isn’t happy about closing down her bed-and-breakfast and got in a huge fight with Mom over it. Maisey and I sat on the stairs, hearing Mom crying to Dad about how awful she feels, but how there’s no choice. The good thing is that now Grandma comes over here and watches us once a week so Mom and Dad can have a date night.

  The front door shuts. Dad walks back into the kitchen and drops two more bags on the counter. “Your driver has no idea I was in the van because he’s asleep.” He sighs, going to the fridge and grabbing a beer. “Anyone else?”

  “Nah. If Earl is asleep, I might have to drive home,” Great-Grandma Dori says.

  The fridge door slams. “Absolutely not.”

  “King,” Mom sighs, glancing over her shoulder at him.

  He takes one sip of the beer and slides it on the counter toward the sink. “I’ll drive you and Uber back.”

  “Can I go?” I ask.

  Maisey jumps next to me with her arm in the air as if we’re at school. “Me too!”

  Dad looks at Mom.

  “I’ll follow behind,” she says.

  “You’re all being ridiculous,” Grandma Dori says.

  “You’re going to be ninety. Sheriff Miller took your license away before he retired. W
hen you lost your license, you couldn’t drive your Cadillac, let alone a huge van. You’re planning your entire birthday party while acting like you have no idea it’s happening. Eventually you’re going to have to slow down.” My dad sounds like when he lectures the three of us about picking up our towels and clothes off the bathroom floor or when the toothpaste is dried inside the sink.

  “Kingston Bailey, I will slow down when I die.” Great-Grandma stands and walks out of the house.

  Dad blows out a breath and throws up his hands.

  Mom stands and tucks in her chair. “It’s her life.” She smiles at me. “Go get your coats.”

  Maisey and I go into the laundry room and take our coats off the hooks where we leave everything when we get home from school. I realize that Maisey’s got Mabel’s, but we both stop zipping our coats when we see Mom and Dad in a tight hug, Mom’s hands running down Dad’s back like she does to us when we’ve had a bad day.

  We look at one another. What are we missing?

  8

  Ryder Bailey

  (Twelve years old)

  Denver and Cleo’s son

  “I could’ve just stayed at Jack’s,” my brother whines as we enter the suit store. “He’s got, like, ten suits I could borrow.”

  “You both need to get your own suits. Your mom put me in charge. Stop complaining.” Dad walks up to Mr. Carlson, who runs the only suit store in our small town. “I need these two fitted for a suit.”

  “You’re going to pay money for something we’ll wear once?” Rohan slumps in a leather chair, putting his feet on the table and pulling out his phone.

  Dad ignores him. That’s how it usually goes until Rohan wears that thread so thin, then it’s watch out and get as far away as you can before Dad blows. I swear it’s Rohan’s favorite game to play.

  I’m the complete opposite of my twin brother. Mom says they figured that out when we were nine months old and Rohan started walking and I waited another two months before I took my first steps. Rohan was always in awe of the television, and I enjoyed having books read to me. I took two-hour-long naps, and Rohan only took half-hour cat naps. To me, Mom makes it sound as if I’m the best kid and Rohan’s the worst, but she’ll occasionally say Rohan is just like Dad and I’m more like her.

  Regardless, we’re mirror images of each other. Most people, except our family, can’t tell us apart.

  “Just get Ryder fitted. We’re the same size anyway,” Rohan says and doesn’t even look up from his phone.

  Dad gives Rohan the look. The one that says, “one more word and my size twelve foot is gonna be up your butt.” But Rohan doesn’t notice, crossing his ankles and continuing to tap on his phone.

  “If I’m going through this, so are you,” I say, sitting on the chair opposite him and looking at the suits lined up perfectly on the rack. I’m not surprised we’re going all out for G’Ma D, but I am surprised she’s not here to make sure she likes whatever we pick out. My dad is known as the jokester of all his siblings. I wouldn’t put it past him to have us show up in powder blue ruffled leisure suits like I’ve seen in some movies.

  “Take one for the team,” Rohan says.

  “I always take one for the team.”

  He distorts his face into a “whatever” expression. Rohan’s usual look. Needless to say, we’re not that close, much to my dad’s disappointment.

  The door opens and my dad’s twin walks in with our cousin Jason. He’s got his phone in his hands too. Uncle Rome nods to Dad then puts me in a headlock and gives Rohan a noogie. It’s his usual hello.

  “What’s up, Jas?” I say to my cousin.

  He sits on the coffee table. “This blows. I was just about to pass a level on Mav’s new game, and I get stuck coming here. For a suit.”

  “We were at Jack’s. What level are you on?” Rohan tucks his phone away.

  “Ten,” Jason answers.

  As odd as it is, we all look so similar, we could be triplets. We had a new teacher last year who was convinced we were until she found out how many Baileys live in this town. Some of them don’t even have the last name Bailey, but they’re Baileys just the same.

  “Damn it, we’re stuck at nine,” Rohan says in a sulky voice.

  Jason shrugs and his face has that look that says he’s not telling us how to pass it. Unfortunately, with big families, there’s big competition, and right now, the first person to complete Maverick’s video game will have bragging rights until the end of time. Maverick is, like, a genius or something and he always gives us the new version of the game after he’s tweaked something. We all play it, even our uncle Kingston.

  “That damn video game,” Uncle Rome says to my dad.

  “Bigger news than that. The developer of the game brought a surprise guest for the party,” my dad says.

  “Who?”

  “Tyler Vaughn’s niece.”

  “Shut up!” Uncle Rome pushes Dad in the chest as if they’re still my age.

  Dad nods. “I talked to Griff and he said Phoenix is trying to be all okay with it but she’s also having another lock installed on the studio because everything they’ve been working on is in there.”

  “Can’t say I blame her. That guy is a snake. But for Maverick to bring her home says how serious he must be about her.”

  “Calista said nothing?” Dad asks.

  Uncle Rome shakes his head. “That girl could never be a gossip reporter. She can keep anyone’s secrets. Including her own.”

  Dad tilts his head as though he thinks there’s more that Uncle Rome isn’t saying.

  “Did you hear Calista and Dion got picked up by the old people van at the airport?” Jason chimes in with his own gossip. He and his sister, Calista, are total opposites.

  “Love it,” Rohan says. “Better them than me.”

  “And guess who was also in the van?” Jason looks at me like I should be able to guess.

  “Who? Ethel? No surprise there,” my dad says.

  “Ethel and her grandson.” Jason’s voice inflicts humor when he mentions Rylan Greene, Calista’s archenemy.

  “Ohhh… tell me more.” Dad will probably razz Calista about it the next time he sees her.

  “Nothing to tell,” Uncle Rome says. “But when she got off the van right after Rylan, her face was all flushed. I’ve always wondered if maybe there was something more than hate between those two.”

  “No way. The guy’s a narcissist. Calista can’t date him,” Rohan says. I’m surprised he’d care one way or the other.

  “He backs up that cockiness with skills on the field,” I say.

  The guy is practically a legend around here. People say he’s so similar to Uncle Jamie that he’s a shoo-in to go pro after college. I prefer soccer, but Rohan is baseball through and through. I look up to see my dad and Uncle Rome looking at me.

  Uncle Rome turns his attention to my dad again. “I have an inkling that things aren’t going so great at UCLA. Harley says maybe she just misses home. But graduation is coming at the end of this year and I think maybe Calista’s struggling with that.”

  Mr. Carlson comes over and claps his hands in front of himself. “Okay, boys, who’s first?”

  “Him.” Jason and Rohan both point at me.

  I shrug and stand. I’d rather get it over with anyway.

  While I’m in the fitting room, I hear Mr. Carlson talking to my dad and uncle about Great-Grandma’s party and how she told him that if any of her family members came in to be fitted, she’d really like them to wear a gold button-down shirt and black tie.

  I figured maybe we’d get a nice pair of pants and a button-down shirt. Then I’d have the pleasure of watching Rohan pulling at the linen fabric the entire night. But a tie means nice shoes too and probably a belt. I roll my eyes when Mr. Carlson lays it all out in front of me. My brother was right. This sucks.

  After changing into the designated G’Ma D approved suit, I head out to the waiting room and Jason and Rohan lift their gazes from their phones and their
jaws drop.

  “Never,” Rohan says.

  “Absolutely not,” Jason says.

  Our dads laugh.

  “Do you want to answer to G’Ma D?” Uncle Rome asks, clapping Jason on the shoulder and shifting his gaze to the other fitting room as I stand in front of the three-way mirror.

  “Dad, you can’t be serious. You’re going to spend the price of a new bat on a suit I’ll probably rip that night?” Rohan asks.

  “You’re twelve now. You can’t keep wearing sneakers to events like this. And plus, you’ll look good for the girls.” Dad winks.

  Rohan gags as if he’s not into girls, but he’s lying. I found Mom’s magazine with women wearing lingerie stuffed into his drawer the other day. Plus, his tongue practically hangs out whenever Jasmine Killborn walks by him in the hall. Can’t say I blame him.

  After Mr. Carlson has stuck a bunch of pins and chalk all over the fabric, I’m finally allowed to change. He says leave the suit in the dressing room and he’ll take it to be altered. He turns to Rohan, who knows it’s his turn but is pretending to be distracted by his phone.

  “Roh, get your ass in the dressing room,” Dad says.

  Rohan’s eyes roll back, but he pockets his phone and heads into the last available dressing room just as Jason walks out in the same get-up as me.

  “Wait, we’re wearing the same exact thing?” I ask.

  “Leave it to G’Ma D,” Uncle Rome says. “The things she gets us to do for her.”

  “I’m doing it for her. You’re not matching with Uncle Denver.” Jason stands up on the raised platform so Mr. Carlson can measure him, and I disappear back into the dressing room.

  The door chime rings, and I wonder who else is going to fit in this small store. I get dressed in my jeans and T-shirt, slide my feet into my Vans, and walk out to find my cousins Jack, Callum, Conor, Asher, and Mason all huddled around the small table. G’Ma D and her friend Ethel are talking to Mr. Carlson.

  Jason leaves the pedestal and walks to the fitting room to undress as Rohan comes out. He steps on the pedestal and pulls out his phone, his thumbs moving across the screen, not paying attention to much around him, which is typical.