The muted voices from the kitchen sent a shaft of dread through me, but in a purely reflexive way. No one knew about my newly non-scholarly life in the big city. And no one would, ever. While part of me wished I could confide in my brothers, they had their own shit to manage, if last night’s careful observation of all the overt and just-under-the-surface drama was any indication. Starting with That Look I’d unwillingly intercepted between Rosalee Norris—Antony’s intended, according to everyone—and my youngest brother Aiden. All the while Antony made eyes at that new lady, Margot, the therapist.
Dominic, for a change, seemed free of the usual BS that typically surrounded him. Perhaps it wasn’t his turn, I suppose. When I got in last night after spending a few quality hours with a distraught AliceLynn, he’d told me Aiden had hooked up with his old high school girlfriend Renee Reese the night before—loudly, and in the pool, which was just outside the kitchen window.
Renee’s history with the Love family was convoluted in the extreme. After Dom dumped her in high school—they were the same age—she’d latched on to Aiden in a way that’d amused my father and two oldest brothers and made my mother spitting mad. Dom hadn’t been too thrilled about it either, and he’d only gone after Aiden once it became clear Renee and the youngest Love brother had become a couple despite their age difference. That had been a scary fight and something our father had a hard time getting under control.
Poor Kieran was mired in a strange relationship with the most horrible bitch-on-wheels woman I had ever encountered. The thought of my sweetest, most even-tempered brother letting that hopped-up, snooty cow order him around the rest of his married life made my gut churn.
But it was, as they say, none of my damn business. I’d made sure of that by avoiding everyone and everything here, not too different from the way Aiden had, with his multiple college degrees, and now a fancy writing school in Idaho, or Montana, or elsewhere in the boondocks. Of course, he had eased right back into his beloved baby brother role, the bizarre moment I’d witnessed between him and Rosalee not withstanding.
I got up, brushed my teeth, and pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. It had to be hot out, but my mother always kept it a hair above frigid in the house.
When I saw my own face in the mirror, it looked haunted. I frowned at my reflection, reminding myself to get a grip. This was life. People died. I was here to provide support and whatever comfort I could to the men of the house.
I squared my shoulders and headed for the steps. But my foot paused in midair, suspended, before touching the first one. I hurried back and made up my bed. I had not made my bed since leaving here, I mused, while fluffing the pillows and making sure nothing was dangling from beneath the heavy comforter. I heard more familiar voices joining the two in the kitchen and smiled to myself.
My brother Dom’s distinctive, low, almost gravelly laughter was punctuated by my mother’s raised voice and my father’s chuckle. He’d probably let loose with a bit of semi-lewd commentary about a date, or something one of the brewery staff had been caught doing in the cooler. He loved to pretend to shock my mother, even though we all knew she was rarely, if ever, shocked.
I took a breath, and went down the steps. Dom was leaning against the counter, coffee mug in hand. For a moment he seemed bigger to me, and I shook my head. But he was merely Dominic—the scary one to all my young friends, and the hottest one to my teenaged pals, even with his inherent drama-trauma.
As the only blond brother, he still possessed the Love family square jaw and chin dimple, combined with the Halloran angular, high cheekbones and our father’s dark chocolate eyes. He was pretty good-looking. Even I’d admit that.
His little “up yours” to trigger our parents’ disapproval monitor was the ink that ran up his arms and across his torso and shoulders. He was also fond of piercings, and not just the ones in and around his ears. The others were hidden, thank God. But I knew about them.
Ironically, since he clashed harder with our father than any of the other boys, he’d been the only one out of them with a serious interest in the family business. With Dominic in charge these last few years, the brewery had almost quadrupled its capacity and ran three shifts to keep up with the distribution demands. When I first saw a Love Brewing Broken-Hearted IPA on the shelves of my little grocery in Greenwich Village, I’d almost burst with pride.
“Ah, my prodigal baby sister,” he said, spotting me lurking in the doorway. “C’mere and give me a proper hug. It was too crowded for it yesterday.” I ducked under his outstretched arm and held onto his waist, the comfort only a big brother can provide making my rapid heart rate ratchet down a notch or two. He handed me his mug and I sipped my mother’s special—she claimed secret—blend of coffee I had never been able to recreate, no matter how hard I tried.
My father sat, staring down into his mug, looking miserable, while Mama flitted here and there, scrambling eggs, checking the biscuits, slapping Dom’s fingers away from the bacon and country ham already prepared and waiting. She ignored me until it came time to put the platters on the table. I took them and poured orange juice right about the time Antony and Aiden arrived. Mama smiled, accepted their kisses, and leveled her gaze at me for the first time that morning. “Glad to have my whole family here for a change.”
I smiled weakly. Antony seemed grumpier than usual when he flopped into a seat at the dining room table. Dominic brought the coffee carafe and clouted Aiden on the back of head with his other hand. Kieran showed up right when we were about to sit. I smiled at the familiar scene, all the way down to my middle brother’s tardiness. We held hands and bowed our heads before anyone reached for anything.
“Dear Lord,” my father began, “we thank you for the bounty of the table. Use this food for the nourishment of our bodies. Thank you for the safe arrival of both Aiden and Angelique, and the relative success of the family dinner last evening. We ask that you hold us all close as we approach Lindsay’s surgery. Give us all her level of inner strength and guide the hands of the doctors. May they see their way clear to find the evil cancer and carve it out of her so she can recover and continue to hold her important place at this table. I …”
His voice broke. I squeezed his hand hard and peeked at him. He swallowed, took a deep breath and continued. I didn’t really hear the rest for the roaring in my ears. On my other side, Aiden had a death grip on my fingers. I glanced down at my mother’s serene face, my chest tight and tears burning.
“Angel,” my father whispered. I turned to him, startled out of my reverie. “We’re ready to eat now.” He smiled, his forehead crinkling up and the lines at the sides of his mouth deepening. I let go, mortified that I’d been caught staring at my mother and hadn’t even realized he’d said “amen.”
My mother picked up the huge platter of eggs and handed them to her right, the signal for us to begin serving ourselves, which we did in silence, my brothers’ faces each reflecting its own unique version of tension.
The food tasted glorious. I hadn’t had a decent meal for months, and last night’s didn’t count, what with all the declarations about Mama’s illness, the strange Margot intervention, and Antony’s reaction to the announcement of AliceLynn’s return to his house.
“So, Antony,” Mama said, interrupting the eating sounds.
“Ma’am?” He was holding his coffee mug in two hands.
“When can we expect to set the wedding date?”
“Um …” He seemed startled.
“I’m right proud to hear that you and Rosie came to your senses, and are going stop this silly dating thing and finally tie the knot. Paul’s Mama thinks so, too.” She named Paul Norris’s mother, the dead man who’d been Rosie’s high school sweetheart and husband, and Antony’s lifelong best friend.