Chapter Three
Bree loved Saturday mornings. Weekdays found her up at ungodly hours, extra ungodly since she signed her book contract and needed to add writing time to her regular schedule of teaching/research/tutoring/life. Add in a few visits to the campus gym each week and the wild amounts of reading, grading, and meetings, and most days found her alarm set for five. Saturdays were the one day she didn’t have to wake to the damned beep beep beep from her phone. Usually on Saturdays she would sleep until almost seven, wake slowly, then linger in bed with coffee and something totally nonacademic to read. Some mornings she even played word games on her phone.
She didn’t know what was sadder—the fact that word games were her ultimate luxury or the fact that she got so damned excited when she had time to play them.
There was no denying that it took something of major importance to have her up, dressed, and out the door by eight on a Saturday. Especially on a Saturday after a night spent kicking herself over the way she’d handled the whole conversation with Spence.
Had she blown it completely? She didn’t think so. She hoped not. She really did want to work smoothly with him and the rest of the task force. Not to mention that for a few minutes there, when the apology was behind them and they’d been catching up, things had been almost—well—enjoyable. Not relaxing, really. But for one brief, shining moment, when they’d been verbally sparring and lobbing banter back and forth like a tennis ball, she could have sworn she was having fun.
Who would have believed that?
Then she’d messed up by alluding to his past. At least, she thought that was what made him leave so abruptly. And now she wasn’t sure if things were okay, or if she had made them worse, and the possibilities she conjured up hadn’t exactly been conducive to a good night’s sleep. What if he told Alice he couldn’t work with her? What if he asked for her to be removed? What if she was still being a little too self-righteous and judgmental?
Oddly enough, it was that last alternative that had her reaching for the melatonin.
But she refused to dwell on that today. Today, she and her sisters—including Paige, thanks to the miracle of FaceTime—were headed to Rochester. It was time to shop for wedding wear. Maid-of-honor dresses for her and Annie, a bridal gown for Jenna, and shoes all around.
In short, a perfect day.
Kyrie was the only one with a car big enough to hold the sisters comfortably, so she had been elected to drive. Bree was the last one to be picked up. When the door to the Kia flew open, the sound of laughter and the scent of coffee spilled out, rushing around her like a warm hug.
A day with her sisters. Definitely a moment for the memory bank.
“Good morning,” she said as she ducked into the car. “I see Jenna already called shotgun.”
“Hey, there are very few times when it comes in handy to have a bum leg. If you think I’m not going to milk it for all it’s worth while I can, you are out of your tree, big sister.”
Annie clucked her tongue. “Don’t whine. You’re not stuck sitting in the middle like I was when we were kids. I still have nightmares about the days when Paige and Kyrie would sit on either side of me and spend the whole drive counting to three and then elbowing me from both sides. You don’t know how long it took for me to learn that the numbers didn’t really go, One, two, three, ow.”
“Yeah, but you got back at us by rubbing your nose all over our arms,” Kyrie said.
“No wonder you run a day care,” Bree said. “It’s your way of finally being the one in charge.”
Her sisters groaned in unison.
“No shrink talk today, Bree.” Jenna twisted around and leveled a finger at Bree. “We are going to be as rude and happy as possible, and you are absolutely not allowed to make us feel like we’re being analyzed.”
“I keep telling you all that I’m not going into clinical psych, but none of you will believe me.” She couldn’t resist. “There’s probably a deep-seated reason for that.”
Moans and laughter filled the car. Bree grinned, shimmied her shoulders, and helped herself to one of the coffee cups sitting in a holder by Annie’s feet.
“So, what’s the plan?” she asked. “Where are we going first?”
“To the place where Paige and Kyrie found their dresses,” Jenna replied. “I love both their gowns, so I’m hoping they’ll come through for me, too.”
“If there’s nothing there, we have a couple of other options. But I think we’ll find something perfect for you guys pretty easily,” Kyrie added. “And let me say, Jenna, it was very considerate of you to get engaged before we already had attendant dresses picked out.”
“Yep, I totally made Cole propose just so I could get married along with my sisters. You know me too well.”
“This really is kind of wild,” Annie said. “I mean, I’ve heard of double weddings, but a triple? This has to be kind of newsworthy.”
“Seriously,” Bree said. “When have you ever been to a wedding where the brides outnumber the attendants?”
“Well, you won’t really be outnumbered,” said Jenna. “We decided to enhance the bridal party a bit. You and Annie are still the maids of honor, but then each bride will add one bridesmaid.”
“That way the guys can have more flexibility, too,” added Kyrie. “We don’t want three grooms to have to share two best men.”
“Good point.” Bree sipped her coffee and sighed. Perfect. “I’m glad I’m not in a relationship right now. Things would get too complicated if I decided to jump the broom between now and October.”
“Oh God.” Annie shuddered. “Can you imagine if all four of you were getting married at once? All of you in your white dresses and lace, and me putting on a brave face while I did the walk of single shame ahead of you all. I would feel like I was stuck in a bad romantic comedy. ‘Last Bridesmaid Standing.’” She heaved a dramatic sigh then straightened up. “Of course, maybe I could get Ryan Gosling to star opposite me in the movie adaptation. That would make it all worthwhile.”
“Jeez, Annie. Drama queen much?” asked Kyrie.
“With you guys as my sisters, did I have any choice?”
More laughter erupted through the car. Times like these, Bree almost wished they didn’t have to stop driving but could just keep cruising, straight roads, sunshine, and laughter all round. There was nothing in the world that could take the place of road trips with her sisters.
“What are Mom and Margie up to today?” she asked Annie, who, as the only one still living at home, had become the source of information for all things maternal.
“Margie’s at the shop. Mom . . . I don’t know. She’s not working, and when I asked her last night, she didn’t really say.”
“Do you think she changed her mind about coming along today but didn’t want to say anything?” Jenna asked. “She’s seemed kind of quiet lately.”
“For the last few weeks, come to think of it.” Bree frowned. “It’s been so busy, with Christmas and New Year’s and starting . . .” She almost mentioned the task force. But that would lead to questions from her sisters about Spence, and she wasn’t ready to discuss that topic with them. Not yet. Mostly because she didn’t want to distract them from the topic of their mother, of course.
And maybe, a little bit, because she still felt kind of uncertain about how things had ended after her apology.
“Getting back to regular life,” she finished. “But you know, she hasn’t been herself lately.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jenna.
“She seems . . . I don’t know. Tired. Not in an it’s so busy kind of way, but deeper. Weary, I guess.” Bree swallowed. “Like she’s been carrying something for too long and she’s reaching the end of her ability.”
Unfamiliar silence descended on the car.
“Now that you mention it,” Annie said slowly, “she’s been different since Dad moved back to town.”
“So six months? And we’re just noticing it now?” Kyrie shook her head as she signaled a lane change. “We are scum.”
“We are not scum,” Bree decreed. “She’s the mom. She’s good at hiding things from us. That’s what mothers do—they shove it down and put on a smile and keep going.”
“God, I am never having kids,” Jenna said.
“Does Cole know that?”
“How could he? I just decided this minute.”
That got a few giggles going.
“Has she talked to him yet?” That came from Kyrie.
Bree exchanged glances, shrugs, and shakes with the others.
“Okay. So, as far as we know, she hasn’t had any contact,” Bree mused. “Maybe that’s it. Maybe she wants to talk to him, but the opportunity hasn’t arisen. Or she’s trying to avoid it.”
“Or he doesn’t want to talk to her,” Annie said, inciting a violent shake of the head from Jenna.
“No. No, I think he would like nothing more than to see her again.”
“Why do you say that?” asked Kyrie.
“One time, when I got conned into having breakfast with him, I said something about her. And he clammed up right away, said he wasn’t discussing her with me.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “It’s funny. Much as I hate to admit it, he’s been up front about everything else I ever asked him—jail, his time hiding out in Costa Rica, all those topics you’d think he might want to avoid. But Mom is off the table.”
“Do you think he still loves her?” Annie said into the shocked silence.
“Do you think he ever did?” asked Bree.
She meant it to be rhetorical, but Jenna tipped her head back and addressed her words toward the rear seat.
“Come on, Bree. You’re the oldest. You remember what they were like.”
Unfortunately, Bree did.
She didn’t have a lot of memories from those early years. She had been only nine when her father was investigated for fraud and corruption charges, ten when he supposedly died and Neenee moved them back to her childhood home of Calypso Falls. Most of Bree’s recollections revolved around the constant stream of babies that arrived after her—first Jenna, then the twins, then Annie after Rob took off.
But she did have some warm fuzzy memories. Christmas mornings, with her father grabbing their mom in a giant hug and yelling, Ho Ho Ho, at the top of his lungs. The way he always called out a huge Hello when he walked in the door at night and waded through the throng of little girls to hunt out Neenee and give her a kiss.
“Were they good together?” Annie asked. “I mean, I know you were little, but kids know these things. They pick up on stuff that adults don’t. Trust me on this.”
Bree did.
“I remember, one time . . . it must have been soon after Kyrie and Paige were born. Or—no—wait. Mom was pregnant. I remember the shirt she was wearing. It had one of those Baby on Board logos over the stomach.” She smiled at the thought. “She was in the big chair, the giant one that could hold her and you and me all together, Jenna. Remember?”
“The cozy chair.” Jenna nodded. “I loved that one.”
“Yeah, you loved it so much that you curled up on it when you were sick and then you threw up all over it, and it never smelled right again.”
Jenna twisted in her seat and stuck out her tongue. Bree rolled her eyes.
“Anyway, Mom was in the chair, probably supposed to be resting, but we kept bugging her to go get ice cream or something. And I remember she was kind of half sitting, half lying there, and she started to cry. Quietly. That mom thing, when they can’t stop the tears, but they’re fighting like hell to keep the kids from knowing that something’s wrong.” She bit her lip. “Then Dad came in, and he took one look at us and scooped you up, Jen—I think you were kind of crawling all over Mom—and he told me to get my shoes on, because we were going out. He sent us both to the bathroom, but I turned around to ask him something, and I saw them. Mom was sitting up, leaning against him, and he had his arms around her so he could rub her back. She was making these little whimpering kinds of noises and he just kept rubbing and he kissed her head and said something. She started laughing. Hiccup kind of laughs, the ones you make when you’re still sort of crying.”
“And then?” Annie prompted.
“Then,” Bree’s throat tightened, “then, she kind of leaned up and kissed him. And they did the forehead thing—you know, heads resting against each other—and he took her hand. And even though she was as pregnant as an elephant and there were two other kids in the house, right at that moment, you know—”
“It was just them,” Jenna finished.
That was about it.
“So I guess he really did love her,” Annie said with something like wonder in her voice.
“Same for her,” added Kyrie.
“Do you think they still do?” Kyrie put into words what Bree was pretty sure all of them were thinking. “Do you think it might have lasted?”
“God, I hope not.” Jenna blew out a deep breath. “Can you imagine going through life unable to let go of the person who had hurt you like that?”
“Can you imagine going through life knowing you were the one to inflict that kind of hurt?” Kyrie said.
“It doesn’t seem possible.” Bree spoke slowly. “But this family has never been known for doing things the expected way.”
“Thank God for that,” Annie said. “I couldn’t have handled being in a normal family.”
“There’s no such thing.” Bree felt compelled to say it, even with the ban on psych talk. “Every family thinks they’re the exception.”
“Yeah, but we really are.” Annie spoke with certainty. “So what are we going to do? About Mom and Dad, I mean. Should we try to get them back together?”
A chorus of disapproval rocked the car. Annie winced.
“Okay, sorry, it was just a thought.”
“If they want to talk to each other, there’s nothing stopping them,” Jenna said. “Other than, you know, twenty-odd years of history and lies.”
“But what’s that in the face of true love?” Kyrie said glibly.
“I think we need to back away from this one,” Bree said. “They are adults. They know what they want, or don’t want, and the consequences. Remember when he first came back and Mom said we each had to make our own decisions about whether or not we wanted to see him? And that everyone had to honor the others’ choices?”
“Shit,” Annie said, and Bree knew her message had been received.
But she also knew that taking her own advice was going to be harder than she expected. Especially when she couldn’t quite shake away the memory of her parents locked in that laughing, crying embrace.
* * *
Spence wasn’t sure how he’d let himself get talked into dinner at Calypso Falls’s busiest pizza place, especially on the night of a high school concert, when everyone was in search of a fast bite. But his niece had said something about a fund-raiser for the orchestra trip. And his sister had begged him to come along so she wouldn’t have to sit with any of the HSA moms that she always referred to as the Bored and the Beautiful.
“If you’re there, you’ll scare all the busybodies away,” she had said when she issued the invitation. “Except the ones on the prowl, who might be willing to risk your wrath to get laid.”
He had snorted as he thought of the way most of them shied away from him. “I don’t think any of them are that desperate. And I know I’m not.”
Livvy had laughed and made a joke about him being secretly gay. He’d played along, but he’d heard the relief in her voice when he agreed to join them, and his radar lit up. Livvy could simply be trying to ward off the professional mommies.
Or she could be back on a road she’d been down too many times before, keeping herself sane and the kids amused while her husband “worked late” yet again.
So on a frigid Wednesday evening, Spence fed the dog, dragged himself out into the late January cold, and spent an hour eating mediocre pizza with his three favorite people in the world. All in all, a fair trade.
The service was slow—no surprise, given that half the orchestra families were in attendance—so Livvy and the kids had to scoot to get Emma to the school by the required half hour before her concert. He sent them on their way with a promise to join Livvy and Max in the audience as soon as he’d paid.
And if he gave himself a few minutes of solitude to finish his beer as the place emptied out—well—that was one of the perks of being the single uncle instead of the high school parent.
He sat in his booth, soaking up the relative peace, when his eye was caught by a sight that had been blocked from his vision by the earlier crowds: Bree Elias, sitting alone at a table in the corner.
At least he thought it was her. Her back was to him and she seemed to be bent over a book. He glimpsed a few strands of auburn curls peeking out from beneath one of those flat, sideways hats that he always associated with French artists. His gaze moved lower. There seemed to be some decent curves, but again, it was hard to tell beneath the heavy ski sweater.
If he could get a look at her legs . . .
He liked the way she sat curled over her book, left hand holding it open, right hand loosely clasping her beer. She didn’t move, but there still seemed to be an energy around her. Maybe from the finger tapping the side of her glass. Maybe from the foot swinging slowly beneath her chair.
He’d spent way too much time thinking about their so-called apology lunch. It bugged him—more than he wanted to admit—that her apology seemed to be so half-hearted. And it bugged him a hell of a lot more than was comfortable that he was letting this bother him.
This was what he’d set out to do all those years ago: lead folks to believe he was a badass. Build a reputation that told the world he wasn’t going to let anyone dupe him. Make folks believe he skated on the edge of trustworthy, just enough that they would think twice before attempting to pull anything over him the way Rob had done to his father.
It had been long enough now that he didn’t need to reinforce his reputation anymore. Bree’s actions were proof of that, and he should have seen it as a victory, one made even sweeter by the fact that it was an Elias handing him the proof that he had won this battle.
So why didn’t it feel like—
His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a tall, dark-haired man entering the restaurant. His brother-in-law, Carl.
Working late, my ass.
Spence’s first reaction was to walk up to the bastard and confront him, to grill him about the who, what, and where of his latest conquest. Because Spence knew damned well there was another woman again. Livvy knew it, too, even though she would never come out and say it, in so many words.
His toes tapped rapidly inside his boots, burning with the need to march up to Carl and toss the dregs of his beer into that lying face. His fists clenched.
But they were in public. He had no proof. And from the way Carl was peering around the place, he just might have been trying to make it here in time to meet up with Livvy and the kids. Spence didn’t believe that for a minute, but Livvy would want him to give the son of a bitch the benefit of the doubt.
On the other hand, if Carl was being brazen enough to meet someone here . . .
Spence didn’t think. As the hostess led Carl to a table on the other side, Spence kept his head down, grabbed his coat as he slid out of his booth, and made tracks for the corner table and the woman he hoped to hell was really Bree.
“Hi.” He dropped into the chair opposite hers, letting a small sigh of relief escape when he saw that he’d guessed right.
Her head jerked upright. Her eyes, wide and uncertain, showed a moment of surprise before relaxing into something still wary but a lot more welcome.
“Sorry to do this,” he said as he twisted his chair deeper into the shadows. “But there’s someone here I need to watch without being seen.”
The corner of her mouth quirked. He noted, distantly, that she’d taken off her glasses and set them beside her book. Her phone completed the little tableau. If someone were to snap a picture, they could call it “Woman Alone.”
“Aren’t you a little old to be past the point of playing secret agent?”
“What can I say? Some of us mature faster than others.” The hostess handed a menu to Carl. Would she do that if he was waiting for someone?
“Look,” Spence said, “I can’t explain this, because . . . just because. But I need to hide out here for five, ten minutes, max. Let me do it and your dinner is on me.”
He kicked himself as soon as he said it. Too desperate. The tough businessman Spencer James would simply sit down, remind Bree that a bowl of soup and a half-assed apology were nothing compared to how she’d publicly humiliated him, and tell her he was joining her whether she liked it or not.
But this was about Livvy. And Spence’s priorities shifted when his sister was involved.
Bree watched him for a second, as if gauging his sincerity. Then, being no dummy, she picked up the dessert menu.
“The cheesecake, I think.” She closed the menu and pushed it toward him. “Care to join me?”
“No. Doesn’t anything ever throw you?”
“Constantly.” She shrugged. “The trick is to never let it show.”
A lesson he thought he had learned.
Carl was still alone, his finger running down the menu. Bree twisted slightly sideways and followed the direction of Spence’s focus. Spence braced himself.
But instead of asking anything about Carl or Spence or the situation, she picked up her glasses, swung them from her fingers, and said, “So, why are you on the task force?”
“Sorry?”
She rolled her eyes. “Hello. If you want to make—whomever—think that you aren’t spying, you need to at least give the appearance of being engaged in some kind of conversation with me. So, task force. Are you on it just because of your landscaping background? Because from what I hear, it seems like far too much of a commitment for someone who usually shies away from volunteerism.”
Shit. Busted.
Discussing his real motivation with Bree probably wasn’t a good plan.
“Why are you here tonight, anyway?” Yeah. Counterattack was the better move. “You don’t have any ties to the high school orchestra anymore, do you?”
“Nope. My flute playing days are long behind me. Too bad, because I always got a kick out if it.”
For a moment, her face relaxed into the faraway softness of good memory. He found himself leaning forward, intrigued by the hint of a smile playing around her mouth.
She had great lips. She’d probably been excellent at playing the flute.
Did she ever use them to play anything else?
He reared back in his seat. Whoa. Where the hell had that come from?
“No,” she continued, seemingly oblivious to his misbehaving imagination, “I don’t have any orchestra connections anymore. And sad to say, I can’t even claim a burning desire to help budding musicians. I was hungry, there’s no food in my apartment, and I live around the corner. That’s as altruistic as it gets. So are you going to tell me why you’re spying on your brother-in-law, or shall we discuss your reasons for joining the task force?”
Her smile had a sharpness now that sent him back to other high school times—daydreaming in English, forgetting his homework, blanking on a test. He felt a sudden sympathy for the kids in her classes.
“My father wanted to do an urban food forest.” Better to go with the easy explanation. Bree was no dummy. She probably could guess at why he might be hiding from Carl. But Livvy wanted to maintain a public facade of a faithful marriage, and he would be damned if he would say anything to add to Bree’s suspicions.
“He did?”
Spence nodded. “He read about it years ago. Before . . . before he went to Arizona. He always thought it would be a great thing for a place like Calypso Falls, a way to help bring the town and gown communities together.”
“He was right. It has a lot of potential that way.” She crooked her finger at the waitress, raised the dessert menu, and pointed to the picture of the cheesecake before glancing at Spence. “Sure you don’t want anything?”
“No. I have to run soon.”
“The orchestra concert?” she asked quietly, and it was all there, unsaid but hiding beneath her words: Carl’s presence here while his daughter performed, Spence’s caginess, and something that Spence was pretty sure sounded like compassion.
“Look, Bree.” He placed his palms on the smooth wood of the table, leaning forward. “I can’t . . . I mean, I—”
“Appreciate me letting you sit here,” she said, sliding her glasses back into place. “Not to worry. I have four sisters. I’m very good at knowing when to speak and when to keep my mouth shut.”
Again with the mouth.
“I appreciate it.”
“It’s going to take me a while to eat my dessert. And this book is very interesting.” She tapped the cover. “I know you want to get to the concert, so feel free to head out whenever you need to go. I know how to look up and check out the crowd every once in a while.”
Gratitude raced through him. He pulled out his wallet, grabbed a business card, and slid it across the table.
“Here. Just in case.”
“Your cell will be on during the performance?”
“No. But I wouldn’t come running back here anyway.”
She nodded as if she understood everything he wasn’t saying and slipped the card beneath her phone. He pulled a couple of twenties from his wallet.
“Thanks, Bree,” he said, but she scowled.
“Put that away.”
“I said—”
“I know what you said.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice so he was forced to lean closer to hear her words. “Believe me, I have absolutely no tolerance for men who throw away what they’ve been given.”
Whoa.
His first thought was to wonder if she was talking about him or her father. Though given that she was helping him, he suspected this meant that everything he’d heard about Bree’s feelings for Rob were true.
His second thought was that her mouth was even more enticing up close.
His third was that he’d better get the hell out of there before his luck ran out.
“Thanks again.” He slipped out of the booth.
“My pleasure.”
“See you at the next meeting.”
“Right. I’ll keep you posted.”
He nodded and hurried away, keeping his head down to avoid being spotted by Carl. It wasn’t until he was in his truck and halfway to the school that he admitted that he wasn’t sure which he should be more thankful for: that he had made it out without Carl seeing him, or that he had made it out without leaning farther across the table and closer to Bree.
* * *
A few nights later, Annie showed up at Bree’s door with brown paper bags covered in grease splotches. Since that was Bree’s favorite kind of container, she opened the door wider even though these visits usually meant Annie needed to pick Bree’s mind about one of her day care kiddos.
Not that Bree cared. She would gladly have advised Annie without bribes, especially since her job usually consisted of listening and nodding as her sister laid out the problem and then talked herself into a better solution than Bree could ever have found. But if Annie wanted to pay her in burrito bowls, Bree wasn’t going to turn her down.
“Hi.” Annie set the bag on the counter while dropping into a kitchen chair—an action made possible by the fact that Bree’s kitchen was approximately the size of a Volkswagen’s interior. “I’m starving. There was a biting epidemic in the toddler room today and I never got lunch. Find us some forks, fast, and if you have a cold beer in the fridge, I’ll love you forever.”
Bree opened the fridge and pulled out two bottles. “You already love me forever from the last time you came over, when we hashed out the issues with little Justin not walking yet. How is he doing, by the way?”
“Pulling himself up and cruising the furniture. Still not where I’d like him to be at this age, but I’ll give him a couple more weeks. He might be one of those who soaks up the information first and then seems to master the skill overnight.” She hoisted her beer. “Cheers.”
Bree followed suit before reaching for cutlery. As she placed it on the table, she felt duty bound to mention: “Um, by the way, not that I don’t appreciate the food, but I don’t have a lot of insights to offer when it comes to biting. So if you were planning to talk about that . . .” She blew out so as not to further drown in the scent of carnitas. At least, not until she knew if she would be able to make any kind of contribution, needed or not.
“What? Oh. No.” Annie waved away Bree’s words and ripped open the first bag. “Don’t worry. I have that under control. Extra time at the sensory table, keep the instigator practically attached to the teacher’s hip, and give the kids lots of chances to make their own choices and feel powerful. No one in the world is as power-hungry as an eighteen-month-old.”
Bree’s early warning system began to tingle. Annie never showed up without an agenda.
And, because sisters didn’t always need words to communicate, Annie picked up on her suspicion.
“All right.” She sighed and stared at the table. “I saw our father the other day.”
From the carefully casual tone Annie was using, it was obvious that it hadn’t been a pleasant interaction.
“How bad was it?”
“Why?”
“Because I want to know if it’s going to make me hurl.” Bree nodded toward the bag in front of her. “I don’t want to waste any of that yumminess.”
“Oh. No, go ahead. You can eat it.”
Still cautious, Bree opened her bag and pulled containers from the depths. Extra lime. Extra salsa. Extra chips.
Extra wary.
“Okay, Anniekins. Give it to me straight.” Bree stared wistfully at the spread. “What did Daddy Dump Truck do?”
“Why do you call him that?”
“Because every time he waltzes into our lives, he dumps a load of crap on us. I’m betting this wasn’t the exception.”
“No. It really wasn’t bad. He just . . .” Annie sighed and peeled back the lid on her bowl. “He wants to see you, Bree.”
“No.”
“I told him that. He said—”
“I don’t care what he said.” Bree stabbed the air with her fork as she spoke. “I understand why you have your lunch dates with him, okay? It’s perfectly natural to want to know the man who contributed to half your DNA, even if he did see fit to hightail it out of the country before you were born. It’s your right to meet him, and I say go for it.”
“Jenna is talking to him now, too.” Annie added salsa to her bowl, seemingly unbothered by the way her quiet words were like hammers smashing into Bree’s orderly world. “Not a lot. I think her last decree was that she would have lunch with him every other month. And she makes it really public, so no one can say that she’s trying to hide anything. You know, what with her being engaged to the mayor, and Dad being a disgraced—”
“Scumball,” Bree said before Annie could get out the politician that Bree was sure had been planned. Then, because she couldn’t stop herself, she said, “But the twins aren’t cozying up to him. Right? I know Kyrie e-mails him once in a while, but Paige—”
“Paige saw him when she was home.”
Bree felt like someone had snuck up behind her and goosed her. “She didn’t tell me she was going to do that. I mean, not that she has to, but you know, we did her interview and—”
“I don’t think it was planned. But I have a feeling that the interview got her wondering.” Annie crumbled chips into her bowl. “Don’t tell Mom, okay? But Paige lied about the time of her flight and had Mom drop her off an hour early. Then she used that time to talk to Dad.”
“In person?”
“Yep. She told me she figured that was the best possible escape clause that she could think of. Other than, you know, going into labor or something.”
“Do you know how it went?”
“She said it was easier than she expected. She’s not in any hurry to repeat it, but she said it was like having a tooth filled—once it was over, she was glad she did it.”
“Did any of the brides put him on their guest list?”
“Not that I know of. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up slipping into the back of the church for the ceremony, like he did for Cole’s inauguration.”
Good Lord. How many bombshells was Annie planning to drop?
“Wait. What? Rob was there?”
“You didn’t know?” Annie speared a hunk of chicken. “Of course, knowing you, you probably had visions of cheese puffs dancing in your head.”
How had Bree missed that? She thought she’d been pretty on the ball that day. Of course, she had been seated in the front row . . . and she had just learned that Spence was going to be on the task force . . .
Damn it. She should never have let her attention be hijacked, and most certainly not by Spence.
Not that he was as Neanderthal as she’d thought, really. The other night, when he took refuge at her table, he had been remarkably human. Bree felt bad for Spence’s sister—she hadn’t been kidding when she’d said she had no use for men who threw their families away—but it had been . . . um . . . interesting to see this side of Spence. The tough-guy-former-dealer seemed very protective of his sister.
Bree couldn’t help but admire that.
She pulled her bowl close and dug in. “Okay. You said your piece. Now I would like to enjoy this before it gets cold, so let’s talk about something else. Like . . .” She decided to risk it. “Did I tell you I had my first meeting of the task force?”
“With Spencer James?” Annie’s eyes sparkled. For a moment Bree was back in the days when Annie was a tiny person with a giant thirst for insights into her sisters’ worlds. She would never forget the day she had to teach Annie how to put on makeup. Which really should have been Jenna’s job. But in those days Jen had undoubtedly been too busy having her carefully-applied lipstick smeared by her boyfriend of the month to have time left to pass her knowledge on to someone else.
“Indeed,” Bree said, suddenly feeling old and nostalgic.
“And you’re still alive?”
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because he’s never struck me as the kind to accept an apology lying down, you know? More like, he’d make you say you were sorry, then he’d find a way to make you do the same thing all over again. Deliberately. Just so you would have to apologize again.”
“Shouldn’t you sound a little less overjoyed at that thought?”
“Well, you know, badassery in action is a pretty fine thing to see.”
“Badass?” Bree bit back a laugh. “Spence?”
“I admit, it’s hard to equate the term with someone named Spencer. But yeah. He doesn’t care what other people think, he doesn’t apologize, he doesn’t follow the crowd. In my book, that qualifies.”
“And when did you switch from nonfiction to fantasy, Annie Belle? Because I promise you, he is none of those things you just mentioned.”
“He most certainly is. Plus he’s kind of hot. You know how Harrison Ford and Sam Elliott still have it even though they’re, like, geriatric? Same thing with Spence.”
“Who, I might remind you, is my age.” Though she had to admit he carried it well. Maybe he spent more time outdoors than she did, but there was a rugged edge to his face that added—well—interest. “Maybe even a couple of months younger.”
If she’d expected Annie to be embarrassed, she should have known better. “What can I say? You’ll always be my oldest sister.”
“I’m also the sister who acts as your consultant when needed. A little more respect might be in order.”
“I take it back. It’s not just that you’re my oldest sister”—Annie scooped up guacamole with her finger—“you’re also the bossiest.”
“If you expect me to be stunned and hurt by that statement, sorry.”
“You know, I bet that’s why you don’t want to talk to Dad.” Annie licked the guac from her finger. “You can’t boss him around.”
And when had Chipotle started spiking their condiments?
“That is the most ludicrous idea I’ve heard in forever.”
“Is it, Bree?” Annie sat back and reached for her napkin. “You’re right. We’re each allowed to make our own choices about how much we want him in our lives. So far, most people are opting for keeping him on the fringe, and that strikes me as being incredibly reasonable, given everything. But you . . .” Annie’s head tilted slightly, as if her thoughts were too weighty to stay in balance. “You’re too much like him. You both look at a situation and decide how to handle it, and then God help the bastard who tries to make you change your mind, because it just doesn’t happen. You’re both pigheaded, Margie would say.”
“If by ‘pigheaded’ you mean determined and focused, I’ll take it,” Bree said quietly. “But I think that Rob might give other meanings to the word.”
“Yeah, why am I not surprised that you would look at it that way?”
Bree breathed in deeply. “Okay, Annie. Tell me this. Why do you talk to him?”
“Exactly why you said. I’m curious. I never knew him and I figure this is something I should know.”
“Sounds good to me. But I’m not curious. I know exactly what he’s like and who he is. I remember how he used to be, and the things he used to say and do. And I know they’re all lies. So tell me again why I should want to see him?”
“Because you’re scared.”
With that one, Bree felt her jaw hit the floor.
“I am so not afraid of Robert Elias.”
Annie snickered. “I never said that you were afraid of him.”
Bree’s stomach clenched. “Then what exactly did you mean?”
Annie sat back and narrowed her eyes at Bree. “You’re afraid, all right. But if you don’t know what you’re afraid of, I’m not telling. This is something you’ll have to figure out for yourself.” She broke into her usual grin. “But boy howdy, Bree, let me tell you this. I can’t wait to see the look on your face when you figure out what’s up with you and Dad.”