Nobody reacted.
“No? Nobody? Fine!” Joan picked up the red dish and threw it on the floor.
The dish exploded into several red and white pieces, flying around the floor. Pieces of lamb got stuck under the nearest Christmas tree.
Gasps from all around the table followed. Declan looked around and the Ryan sisters all sat back, flabbergasted, staring at Joan losing her shit.
“Mom!” Kera said and hurried her way over to her mother.
“So much for etiquette lessons,” Gwenn mumbled as she sat wide-eyed in her chair.
“Oh, you want some lessons, do you?” Joan sneered. She eyed her daughters and held out one oven mitt when Kera tried to put an arm around her shoulders.
“Lesson number one,” Joan said as she picked up a side dish with parsnip and carrots. “Never let a man screw with your head.”
She held the white dish with a Christmas tree decoration on the side above her head and smashed it on the floor in front of her. Parsnip and carrots skidded to a halt against Bree’s chair leg.
That was enough. Declan needed to protect Bree and their babies from this crazy person. In the utmost calm fashion, Declan stood from his chair. He turned to Joan with both hands up. His shoe crunched something underneath, and he winced. Probably a rack of lamb.
“I’m not one of your perps, Declan Mills. You don’t need to intervene here….” Joan warned before she eyed the table for her next dish.
“Joan… I just want to talk to you. We all want to hear your side. Nobody is judging you, Joan. We all love you—”
Joan snorted and pointed a red oven mitt at him. “Pssht. I don’t believe for a minute you love me. You hate my guts. Like I hate yours!”
“Mom!” Bree gasped from behind Declan.
He cocked his head at Joan, admitting she’d hated him. Bree’s mother seemed shocked by her own words and placed her mitt against her mouth. She shook her head.
“Sorry, Dec. I don’t mean that. I don’t mean that at all. I don’t know what’s gotten into me…”
Joan looked around her and started crying. “Oh, my lamb racks!”
Gwenn busted out laughing and said, “This Christmas is epic. I can’t wait for next year with all our half brothers and sisters around.”
Her mother sniffed. “I’m not spending my Christmas with Brenda Walker. Or any of her children. Over my dead body!”
“So you know her then?” Cait said.
Declan smiled as he witnessed Cait in action. How was she going to handle not being a cop anymore?
“Yes. I know her.”
Joan stepped over the broken dishes and plopped down in a vacant chair. She took off the mitts and held out a hand.
“I know you girls want answers. I’ve been putting this off because I know that after tonight… you’ll never look at me the same.”
Joan brought a shaky hand to her glass of wine and drank from it like it was her lifeline. She peered over the rim of her glass at each daughter. Bree held her breath for what was to come.
“When I was eighteen, I fell in love with a boy who was everything I’ve always dreamt of. You girls know what I mean. Tall, dark and oh so handsome.
“And we could talk for hours. He told me about his Irish granda and how he’d loved to see my belly swell with his kids someday.” Joan snorted.
“I was looking for love in all the wrong places. My parents had died in a car crash. They left me some money and because I was eighteen, I was on my own. I stayed in my parents' home and Rob quickly moved in with me.”
She shook her head and traced the crimson table runner over the white tablecloth. Joan smiled as if remembering something.
“Rob said, ‘I’m your family now. It’s you and me, kid.’”