Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

“It’s time for us to announce what we’re grateful for,” Dottie said brightly. They sat around the dinner table, an unpleasant scorched smell in the air, and Maisie couldn’t help but reflect that Dottie had recovered awfully quickly considering she’d been close to tears half an hour ago.

Dottie had leaned against Maisie’s shoulder outside, feeling frail in a way that had scared Maisie—when had she gotten so old?—and said she felt guilty about nearly burning Beau’s house down a second time. Which, to be fair, maybe she should. But then she’d gone on about it being a sign that Beau was displeased with her, that she hadn’t done enough to help his grandchildren, and Maisie had told Dottie the truth: her theory was a bunch of BS. Because if Beau was pissed off enough to celestially cause fires, he’d do it in someone else’s house. He’d been too fond of this place to watch it go up in flames, especially with his hell cat and the majority of the relatives he tolerated in the danger zone.

Dottie had found that line of argument strangely reassuring, and as soon as Adalia had announced they were having dinner, like it or not, Dottie had rebounded. She’d ushered everyone inside and helped warm the food.

Now they all sat beneath poor Diego’s portrait on the wall—Adalia had insisted on hanging it up to honor him, although Georgie had put a Post-it note over Lurch’s junk. They’d served themselves food and were eating a little half-heartedly, even though everything was good. Finn kept peddling the squash to people, grinning like he’d reinvented the wheel.

Probably Maisie should be mourning poor Diego, who hadn’t had much of a life for a bird, other than those sweet seconds he’d spent in Jack’s arms. Or yearning for her sisters, who could have saved her from all of this madness by actually coming home for a change. But instead she found herself staring at Jack’s arm, propped up next to her on the table. She’d maneuvered to sit next to him, a decision of questionable wisdom, and she kept replaying the way he’d singlehandedly broken into the detached garage to get that fire extinguisher. She’d thought him sexy before, but now he was basically a hero, wasn’t he? He’d slipped upstairs for a quick shower before dinner, and his hair was wet, something that somehow made him more appealing. Probably because of the whole sex-in-the-bathroom thing. He caught her looking, and a corner of his mouth ticked up before he got it under control. Careful not to reveal herself to Iris, who sat on his other side with a more pronounced scowl than she’d had earlier, Maisie trailed her fingers across his upper thigh.

She wasn’t sure what the hell she thought she was doing—she’d said one night, and he’d written that “just friends” note—but she had been dreaming about him, and his note had trailed off in a strange way, and…

He jolted, and just as she was about to pull away—you didn’t jolt when you were happy about something—he lowered his hand to cover hers, squeezing it and holding it for a second before he gently moved it. To be fair, if his sister thought it was gross for random adults to be nice to each other, she’d think it beyond disgusting to be confronted with proof that her older brother had a sex life.

“I’ll start,” Dottie said when no one offered to take the lead. “I’m grateful to be here with my nephew and four of my grandchildren, and all of our wonderful friends.” The four grandchildren part was a puzzler, but Maisie figured she was including Iris in that number. Dottie would do something like that. “I know Beau would be proud to see us all sitting here together.” She frowned a little. “Although I do wish Lurch and Stella hadn’t had to leave early. Beau was always so fond of Lurch.”

Maisie mouthed, “Swingers,” to River, who stifled a laugh.

“River?” Dottie asked, turning to him.

He’d showered too, and the wet hair at the nape of his neck sent a little stab of memory through her. One time, when they were poor twenty-two-year-olds who couldn’t afford real haircuts, they’d cut each other’s hair. Maisie had done a pretty bang-up job, if she did say so herself—she’d just opened the shelter, and some of the dogs needed regular haircuts, so she’d had some experience cutting hair. River, on the other hand, had made her look like Bozo the Clown. But it hadn’t mattered. She’d loved that stupid haircut because he’d given it to her. Because he’d spent an hour and a half trying to get the sides the same length—which was why it had ended up so short.

He cleared his throat, his gaze darting around the table, and she knew what he was going to say before he spoke. A grin broke out on his face. “I’m grateful that Georgie Buchanan has agreed to be my wife.”

Adalia dropped her fork with a loud click and leaped—literally leaped—up from her chair. “Yes! I’ve been waiting for you to make an honest woman of her.”

Dottie was grinning like the Cheshire Cat, and Maisie couldn’t help but wonder if she’d planned his announcement— had she offered to give River an opening? Or had she just known he was looking for one?

Then everyone was getting up, Finn clapping River on the back and saying something about how he’d almost gone first—to which River huffed a laugh and said, “If you say so”—and Adalia squeezing Georgie and physically lifting her off the ground even though she was smaller, and Dottie flitting from person to person like a beneficent fairy, and Jack standing in the background a little awkwardly but with a sweet look on his face that said he wanted to take part and wasn’t sure how. His reaction squeezed her heart in a way she wouldn’t have expected given this was the moment she’d been dreading for weeks. No, for months. And it was then that Maisie realized she and Iris were the only people left at the table, one empty seat between them.

“I hate my life,” Iris muttered.

“I did warn you,” Maisie said, then added, “I think you could safely sneak away if you’re done eating.”

Iris tilted her head at the group of well-wishers. “Why aren’t you over there acting like half of marriages don’t end in divorce?”

Which was an opening of sorts. She shrugged. “Maybe I hate my life a little too.”

Iris lifted her cup of sparkling cider—Jack had taken away the champagne Dottie had poured for her—and said, “To hating life.”

“Nah,” Maisie said. “I’m not drinking to that. I’d prefer to hope my luck will turn around.” She glanced up. “Unlike poor Diego.”

His anthropomorphized smile in the portrait gave her the shivers. She wouldn’t want the painting in her house, staring down at her while she ate her breakfast.

Then Finn passed the table, pausing to look at her as he made an unnecessary summoning gesture to convey he wanted her to follow him into the kitchen. God, he was as subtle as a plane writing messages in the sky. Iris watched him with eyes that missed nothing before glancing back to Maisie to see what she’d do.

“We’re going to go check on the dessert situation,” she said, only to immediately get kind of pissed at herself for offering an explanation to a seventeen-year-old.

“Just so long as you’re not cuckolding my ‘sister,’” Iris said with air quotes.

“He’s like a brother to me,” Maisie said, waving a hand dismissively.

“I’ve learned people have really loose interpretations of family around here.”

Maisie shook her head a little, a smile playing on her lips, and followed Finn into the kitchen. But the smile didn’t last, because Finn could only want one thing. And God…he was not the person she wanted knowing her secret. But he did, and she needed to talk him off a ledge before he did something stupid like announce to everyone at the Thanksgiving table that Maisie had massively confusing feelings about the groom-to-be.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, pulling him to the back of the kitchen. It smelled worse in here, like singed hair. Lurch’s eyebrows maybe.

“What are you doing?” he hissed back. “River says you’re going to be co-best man. You still haven’t told him.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Have you told Adalia?” she asked, dreading the answer.

“No,” he said, surprising her. “But I want you to. This is driving me nuts. Do you know how hard it is for me to keep a secret like this?”

She did. And it wasn’t really fair of her to ask it of him, so she just nodded. “I haven’t had a girls’ night with her and Blue for a while. Maybe I’ll talk to both of them.” She’d met Enid “Blue” Combs through the animal shelter, but they hadn’t really become friends until Adalia brought them together. She saw Blue a little more frequently now, what with Adalia spending so much time with Finn, but she hadn’t told her about the River situation. Maybe it would feel good to unburden herself.

“Good,” he said with obvious relief. “Now let’s go back out there, together, and you can congratulate them.”

“Okay, bro, but only because you went full boss man on me,” she said, giving him a little nudge. But she went with him willingly enough, smiling a little when she saw Iris had taken her advice and retreated to places unknown.

The rest of the party had returned to the table, although River, Georgie, Adalia, and Dottie were gathered around what looked to be Georgie’s cell phone. Like before, Jack sat at a slight distance from the others. She was tempted to physically push his chair closer. Or maybe sit on his lap. He met her eyes and shifted slightly, as if inviting her to do just that. But instead she linked arms with Finn and hustled up to River.

“Co-best men at your service.”

River cut his attention away from the phone, from which a handsome man with hazel eyes and dark blond hair was gazing at the Lurch portrait in horror. The Post-it had fallen off. That had to be their other brother, who sounded like he had a real stick up his behind, from everything she’d heard. But River was smiling at her, his expression hopeful, and he deserved her attention much more than some stuffed shirt in New York did.

“Congratulations, River,” she said, all jokiness falling away. He hugged her, and she ignored the slight pricking of tears in her eyes and pulled back first. Georgie was holding the phone, which gave her the perfect excuse to just nod her congratulations to the bride-to-be.

Her nod was returned.

“And when do you plan on getting married?” came the brother’s voice through the phone speakers. Even over the crappy phone speakers, he had a nice voice, Maisie would give him that. But she felt a prickle of defensiveness for River. This jerk clearly would have preferred to ask Georgie, in private, whether she had any second thoughts.

“As soon as possible,” Georgie said, gaze locked on River’s. “Just after Brewfest, we were thinking.”

March. That was just a few months away.

“But I’ve already started planning the engagement party,” Dottie said. “Early January would be a lovely time of year.”

It would certainly be a cold time of year.

Georgie’s eyes rounded with alarm, which was completely understandable given the smell of smoke still hung in the air from Dottie’s last attempt to co-opt the planning for a family event. River took her hand and opened his mouth to let Dottie down gently.

But he didn’t need to.

“I think we should plan it at the brewery,” Jack said from behind everyone. His eyes glimmered with the idea. And he pushed his chair a little bit closer to the others. Turning to Dottie, he added, “I’ll take care of the logistics, but I’ll need your help, Dottie.”

River gave him a slight nod, a silent thank you, and Georgie actually mouthed the words.

Turning back to the screen, she said, “You’ll come, won’t you, Lee?”

He was silent for a few moments, as if trying to consider whether there was any way out, and then he nodded. “I will.”

“And I’d like you to stand up with me in the wedding party,” River said, glancing back at Jack. “Jack’s already agreed to do the same.”

He had? Maisie glanced at Jack, only to find him watching her, a gaze that seemed almost electric. A small nod. He knew she was co-best man, then, and that they’d be thrown together for this wedding. But it was hard to tell whether he thought that was a good thing—and even though her attraction to him had, if anything, grown stronger, she wasn’t so sure either. She thought that maybe she needed to get through this, to see River married, before she could really move on.

A pained look crossed Georgie’s face, but she said, “And I’d be honored if Victoria stood up with me. I know you two are getting serious.”

A knock sounded over the phone’s speakers, and a cold voice said, “Lee, are you on the phone in there? Your dad is about to make a speech, and it would look very odd if you weren’t at the table.”

A speech about what? Gratitude? That seemed rich.

Lee had the grace to look embarrassed, but he called, “I’ll be right out,” before he turned back to the phone. In a voice little above a whisper, he said, “We’ll talk later.”

Then he signed off.

They were all silent for a moment, the effects of Lee’s disappearing act lingering like the stench of smoke in the air. Adalia was the first to speak.

“I hope that means Vic -tor- ia won’t want to come.”

“I want her to come for Lee,” Georgie said. She paused, glancing at River, and from the look in his eyes, it was obvious this was something they’d discussed. “And Dad should be here too.”

Adalia made a face. “I’d hoped to go the rest of my adult life without seeing him again.”

She meant it too. She’d said as much to Maisie on more than one occasion.

“He’s our father,” Georgie said simply. Maisie glanced at Jack, whose expression had darkened, and she was tempted to say something in his defense. To say that the man had simply lent them his genetic material. That doing so didn’t give him the right to torture them for decades. Then again, Maisie didn’t know firsthand what it was like to have a terrible parent. She only knew the loss of two good ones.

“Well, should we have pie?” Dottie asked.

Then Finn started collecting the dishes, with River helping, and Jack got to his feet and started looking around the room for Iris, like maybe she’d hidden under a pillow.

Maisie came up to him and put a hand on one of his arms.

“She’s upstairs,” she said. “I suggested it might be a reasonable time to leave if she felt so inclined.”

Jack swore under his breath, and it occurred to her that he was in a true predicament. He wanted to be with his family, but even though his sisters were all in the same house, Iris had isolated herself. It was either go upstairs and be with her or stay down here with Adalia and Georgie.

“I doubt she’d object if you brought her some pie,” she suggested. “My sister went through the whole teenage angst stage, but it didn’t do any harm to her sweet tooth. Bringing her brownies or whatever was always the best way to get her to talk.”

“You have sisters too?”

“Yes, and my sisters are literally the most different people possible, so sometimes I have to be the go-between. Middle Child Duty, I call it.”

His mouth twitched. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a peacemaker.”

She smiled at him. “Now you’re the one trying to put me in boxes. But you’re not wrong. They didn’t have much of a choice, though. Desperate times called for desperate measures.”

“Desperate times, indeed,” he said with a sigh. “This day didn’t exactly go like I hoped it would.” He met her gaze again, held it, and she felt tingles shoot through her body, like she had become effervescent. She had a feeling she knew what he’d hoped.

“It certainly didn’t go as Diego had planned.”

Jack barked a laugh, his gaze shooting to the Thanksgiving Dinner portrait. The Post-it had gone back up, but there was a little smiley face on it, which had almost certainly been Adalia’s work.

“I’m surprised to hear you joke about it.”

She shrugged. “Gallows humor. I think being Stella’s muse is basically a death sentence. My hopes are not high for Lurch’s future.”

“No kidding,” Jack said, leaning a little closer, his heat engulfing her. “I was looking forward to seeing you today.”

“Were?” she asked. “Did that change somewhere between the fire and the most awkward video chat in history?”

“No,” he said, “it didn’t change at all. It’s just…with Iris. It’s not a good time for me to get involved with anyone.” He looked at her again, regret in his eyes. “Today proved that. I told myself she’d get adjusted, that it wasn’t selfish of me to bring her here, but I’m not so sure that’s true.”

The disappointment that washed through her was stronger than it should have been. After all, hadn’t she decided they shouldn’t pursue this attraction between them? Except she’d sought him out again, and here they were, standing much too close for two people who’d decided they didn’t think it wise to start anything. Or continue anything.

“I get it,” she said. “I don’t know why you brought her here, but I expect you had your reasons. I was my younger sister’s guardian for a little over a year after high school, and it’s not easy. It consumes everything.”

He gave her a look, like maybe he wanted to ask questions, but he didn’t. He just reached for her hand and squeezed it.

“Wait,” Dottie said, drawing their attention back to the dining room table. Maisie had a split second to notice Adalia was looking at her hand, which was clasped with Jack’s, before she pulled away.

Then Dottie continued, “We didn’t finish our discussion of what we’re grateful for. Let’s do it over dessert.”

She sounded genuinely excited over the idea, but Maisie didn’t feel like taking part. Suddenly, she itched to leave. To be with the dogs at the shelter. She’d already told a horrified Adalia that she would take the platter of Diego off her hands. She hated the thought of anyone eating him, but he’d already been cooked, and it would be more awful, to her mind, if he went uneaten. So the dogs would have goose this year instead of turkey.

“Iris is definitely not going to come down for that,” Jack muttered, which gave Maisie an idea. He had to find a way to get Iris engaged in Asheville so she’d want to stay; Maisie constantly needed help at the shelter. Win-win.

Except she knew what Molly would say. She’d roll her eyes and say something like, Having feelings isn’t going to be your hamartia, you know . You want to see him too. This’ll give you the chance…without everyone else around. Her sister had learned that word in high school English— hamartia, a fatal flaw leading to one’s downfall —and it had appealed to the drama queen in her. Of course, Molly wasn’t one to talk. Her longest boyfriend had lasted all of two weeks.

She looked at Jack, saw the worried way he was eyeing the stairs.

“Does she like dogs?” she asked.