“Hmm,” Tommy grunted. “I guess we’ll see.”
Spencer looked nervously from her father to me and back again. Tommy’s icy demeanor was obviously what she’d been worried about, and she seemed unsure how to proceed. “Well, I guess we should probably eat,” she said finally.
Tommy looked at her as if he’d forgotten she was in the room. “Sure. Of course, hon. Why don’t you grab the salad and show Shane into the dining room?”
Spencer nodded and grabbed a large glass bowl from the island. She crossed the kitchen to a doorway on the right side of the room, and I trailed after her. A long, highly polished table with thick legs gleamed in the light of a low-hanging chandelier. Though it offered seating for at least a dozen people, only three places had been set at its far end. Spencer carried the salad around to the opposite side and walked down the length of the table. She set the bowl near the plates.
“You can sit there.” She pointed to the place across from her.
I made my way to it but didn’t take my seat. Instead, I gripped the back of the chair and drummed my fingers against it. “I’m not so sure your dad likes me.” I glanced at the doorway to ensure Tommy wasn’t on his way through it.
“It’s not that,” she said. “He’s still dealing with this whole ‘boyfriend’ thing. Like I said, I’ve never told him about the guys I’ve dated before, and I’ve definitely never invited anyone for dinner.” She pulled out her chair and slid into it, then smoothed the wispy fabric of her skirt over her legs. “You’re the first guy I ever wanted to invite.”
A wave of guilt nudged at me when she aimed a shy smile in my direction, but I pushed it away and smiled back. “Well, I’m honored to have that distinction.”
Tommy emerged from the kitchen wearing bright green oven mitts and carrying a casserole dish. He eased the dish onto a trivet that had been set out on the sideboard behind Spencer and pulled the mitts off.
“Looks delicious as usual, Spence.” He reached over her shoulder to retrieve her plate. He scooped a section of the lasagna onto it, then handed it back. He extended his hand to me, and I obediently offered my plate. Tommy filled it with a generous portion and passed it back. “This is Spencer’s specialty. It’s her own recipe—one she won’t even share with me, which is fine because that means she has to visit once in a while to make it for me.” Tommy nudged Spencer with his elbow as he piled lasagna onto his own plate.
“Okay, Dad,” she said. “I can make lasagna. We get it.”
Tommy chuckled and took his seat at the head of the table. “All right, I’m done complimenting you.” Spencer pursed her lips and raised a skeptical eyebrow, which only made her father laugh harder. “For now, at least,” he said.
Spencer rolled her eyes, and her gaze met mine across the table. We smiled at each other before Tommy cleared his throat and we both snapped our attention back to him. He gave me a tight-lipped smile before bowing his head, plainly expecting me to follow suit. I did, but looked at Spencer through lowered lashes and gave her a conspiratorial wink when she did the same.
“Shane,” Tommy said. I lowered my eyes again, feeling like a child who’d been caught sneaking a cookie before dinner. “Would you care to say the blessing?”
I swallowed. “Of course, sir,” I said after a moment, then recited the well-engrained Catholic prayer. “Bless us, oh Lord, and these thy gifts which we are about to receive from thy bounty, through Christ our Lord. Amen.”
All three of us raised our heads and crossed ourselves perfunctorily. Tommy helped himself to salad, then retrieved his fork and held it suspended over his plate. “So, Shane, Spencer tells me you’re a transfer to Balanova.”
I nodded and hurried to finish the large bite of lasagna I’d taken. “Yes, sir. This is my first semester.”
“And where were you before this?” Tommy took a bite of his own dinner but kept his eyes locked on me.
“Shane went to Loyola,” Spencer said, clearly trying to save me from Tommy’s grilling.
“I see,” Tommy said. His expression was unreadable.
I dropped my eyes to my plate and took another large bite in the hope it would delay any more questions for at least the time it took to chew. I chewed very slowly.
“He’s from New Orleans,” she added.
The bit of lasagna I’d just swallowed caught in my throat, and I coughed. I lifted my head and rapidly shifted my gaze from Spencer to her father. Tommy’s expression darkened and I saw the muscle of his jaw twitch, but his face was impassive again within a second. I looked back at Spencer and was relieved to see she hadn’t seemed to notice her father’s reaction because she hadn’t taken her eyes off me. She frowned, her expression a mixture of concern and amusement.
“You okay?”
I nodded and took a few gulps of water. “Fine, yeah.” I grinned at her. “Sorry. I guess I should take smaller bites.”
She giggled. “Respiratory distress tends to take the fun out of the meal. Chewing is recommended.”
I snickered, relieved the moment had passed without incident. “Thanks for the advice.” I winked at her.
She beamed and caught her bottom lip between her teeth. I returned my attention to the plate in front of me but glanced at Tommy from the corner of my eye. He continued to eat in silence but occasionally looked at his daughter with a sort of worried expression. Spencer smiled at her plate and pushed her food around its surface with her fork. I wondered if she wished as badly as I did that we were back in her sorority room instead of sitting at her father’s dinner table in uncomfortable silence.
After several minutes, Tommy laid his fork across his empty plate and leaned back in his chair. “That was wonderful, hon.”
Spencer set down her fork and smiled wearily at him. “Thanks, Dad.”
“It was amazing, Spence,” I said, propping my elbows on either side of my empty plate.
“Thanks.” She smiled at me, too, though she seemed much happier for the compliment now. “Oh, so, Dad…” She turned back to Tommy. “You know the thing on Friday?”
“The very important dinner I’m having for clients that you promised to help with?” Tommy raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m aware of it.”
“Yeah, that.” Spencer rolled her eyes. “I’m definitely going to be there, but I was wondering if you’d mind if Shane tagged along? We could always use the extra hands, and if he’s there, I wouldn’t have to spend the whole night talking to a room full of boring old guys in suits.”
“Those ‘boring old guys in suits’ pay your tuition, you know.” Tommy tried to look stern, but it was obvious he very rarely said no to his daughter.
“Please?” She folded her hands like a little girl begging for a pony.
“Sure,” he relented. “Fine.”
Happy to get her way, she stood and began collecting the dirty dishes and utensils. As I watched her, I was aware of Tommy watching me.
Neither of us moved to help clear the table until Spencer spoke. “You know, I did most of the cooking. It would be great if I didn’t also have to do all of the cleaning up.”
I pushed my chair back, jumped to my feet, and reached for the plate she held. Had we been in the Village, it wouldn’t have been out of the ordinary for an entire table of men to sit while she cleared every dish, but we weren’t in the Village, a fact I needed to keep in mind while I was here. Besides, I had a feeling that Spencer might not have stood for it even if she’d grown up as a Traveler.
Spencer retrieved a glass and started toward the kitchen. I followed her with my armload of dishes, and Tommy brought up the rear with the now-cool pan of lasagna.
“You can put those in the sink.” She pulled the salad bowl from the top of my stack. I crossed to it and set the plates, flatware, and glasses down on the stainless steel.