Celebration's Bride. Nancy Robards Thompson
had indeed been speeding on without him. Not that he expected things to come to a screeching halt, but having been away for five years, the differences were more pronounced—children were growing up, his younger siblings were getting married and making lives of their own.
“When did this happen?” he asked.
“Two weeks ago,” said Jeanie.
“Have you set a date?” Miles asked.
“Not yet,” said Ben. “We wanted to talk to you to see when you thought you might be available. You’re going to be my best man, right?”
“O-of course,” Miles stammered. “You just tell me when and I’ll be there.”
One of the other nieces, Ivy, came and got Jeanie to turn one of the jump-rope handles in a tournament she and the other kids were having on the porch.
“Well, sweetie, I’m helping your grandma get dinner on the table,” she said.
“Oh, no, you go on and play with the kids. I’ll finish up here,” Deena said.
Jeanie thanked Deena and flashed Miles an apologetic smile. “I’m going to play with them, but we will talk more about the wedding later, okay?”
“Of course,” Miles said as his brother’s fiancée, allowed the little girl to lead her away. Fiancée. The reality that his little brother was engaged blew him away. He couldn’t quite get his mind wrapped around it.
“We just love Jeanie,” his mom said. “We would love it if you would settle down, too. No pressure, though.”
For some reason Sydney James’s face flashed through Miles’s mind—the way she looked last night in the dim light of Murphy’s as she sipped her wine and spilled her secret about the job interview with that accent that made him more than just a little hot and restless. He intended to keep her secret, but he also intended to entice her to stay. She was exactly what Catering to Dallas needed and somehow he would convince her that she needed them just as much.
“Are you staying for game night, Uncle Miles?” asked his sister’s oldest daughter, Sally. “We usually have game night on Saturday night, but it’s a special occasion since you’re here and Grandma said we could have game night tonight. Will you stay? Pleeease?”
“We’ll see,” Miles answered. “Sounds like fun.”
Saturday night family game night was another long-standing tradition in the Mercer household. Miles was glad to see it still prevailed. Back in the day, his friends used to come over and hang out. Sometimes they’d stay over. His mom prided herself on providing the kids with a place where they were all comfortable. His dad had been on active duty back then, on assignment wherever the army sent him. He petitioned for assignments at Fort Hood—or as close as possible—and sometimes he got them. But when his dad had been sent to places far away, his mother had been adamant about maintaining a normal life for her kids, giving them a permanent home base. Looking back, it seemed like their father was away more than he’d been home. Miles wondered how a marriage could’ve survived under those circumstances. Then again, his parents were built for the long haul. That’s just how his folks operated.
As various friends and relatives drifted in and out, hugging him, asking for the quick catch-up, Miles had a chance to take in his surroundings, marveling at how it all looked the same as when he was growing up, only now he saw it through a different lens.
The lower level of the house was an open floor plan with the kitchen, family room and a casual dining table contained in one area. The space that had once seemed so large looked a little smaller than he remembered it. The tile-covered countertops that he could vividly recall his mother being so excited about years ago looked a little worn and dingy now.
The same chalkboard from his childhood hung on the wall next to the refrigerator. The same linoleum that used to be a shade of off-white and was now leaning towards light gray, still covered the floor up to the point where the carpet in the family room began. It delineated the space where the kitchen ended and the family room started.
The same large, overstuffed sectional sofa sat atop the same Berber carpet that still looked brand new thanks to his mom’s TLC and obsessive vacuuming.
He watched her as she stirred pots on the stove and checked something in the oven—it looked like meat loaf—and worried over something else in the refrigerator.
“Hey, Ma,” he called. “Let me help you. What can I do?”
“Not a thing. You just talk to everyone and relax,” she said. “Lucy can help me here in the kitchen. Lucy, I’m talking to you. Lucy!”
The girl looked up from her place on the corner of the couch where she’d been texting and pulled one ear bud out of her ear.
“What?” she snapped.
Miles saw his mother give her a look and the girl immediately straightened up. Miles was all too familiar with that look. It was a silent warning. If she didn’t comply, the punishment would be worse than a court marshal. Deena Mercer’s husband might have retired a sergeant first class, but she was the long-standing general of the Mercer army. She commanded respect and her family gave it to her.
“I think you know that the correct response is yes, ma’am,” Deena said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Lucy answered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.” Miles could see the way the girl’s hands were fisted in her lap, but her tone of voice was much softer now.
“Please put that cell phone down and come here. I need you to set the table in the dining room and the one here in the family room, and then set the picnic table out on the back porch for the kids. We need twenty place settings in all, please.”
Lucy didn’t smile, but she nodded and set about her duties, tucking the phone into the pocket of her jeans rather than setting it down as her mother had told her to do. Miles sensed something was up. His little sister had an edge that went beyond typical teenage angst and moodiness.
When the girl was out of the room, he asked his mom, “Is Lucy okay?”
His mother’s face tightened and her mouth flattened into a grim line. She hefted the pot of boiling potatoes off the stove and dumped them into a large colander in the sink.
“It’s been an interesting year,” she said as she set the pot back on the stove and turned back to the sink to shake the remaining water out of the potatoes.
“Grab yourself a beer out of the fridge and I’ll tell you about it,” she said. “While you’re over there would you hand me the cream, please?”
Miles handed the quart-size container to her and then opened his beer.
His brothers were occupied by a game of Mario Kart with the nieces. His older sister, Patricia, was following her toddler around making sure she didn’t get into anything she wasn’t supposed to. The others were out in the backyard, or grouped in various sets talking about one thing or another like big families did.
Miles pushed back the question of when his father might grace them with his presence. He hadn’t materialized since Miles had seen him in the office, and after mulling over the expression his dad wore, he decided he’d be damned before he asked about him. Especially since he had these few moments alone with his mother, and he could tell she wanted to catch him up on what had been happening with Lucy.
“Thank you, hon,” she said as she took the carton from him and brushed a lock of graying hair off her forehead. “Your little sister has been a bit of a handful this past year. She’s had a hard time, but she’s settling down now.” Deena heaved a sigh and looked around, as if making sure no one was listening in on their conversation. Miles guessed she might’ve been looking for Lucy, who wasn’t within earshot. He could see her through the sliding glass doors, standing next to the picnic table she was supposed to be setting, on her phone texting.
Pushing the envelope.
“About six months ago,