Table for Two

by Jennifer Mckenzie

  Travis snorted. “No, just trashed it throwing a raging party.”

  “And you didn’t invite me?” Now Owen snorted. “That’s grounds for eviction. What’s up?”

  “Invite me to the family dinner on Sunday.”

  Owen laughed. “Mal shut you down hard and you’re trying to find another angle?”

  Travis thought about Mal, all rosy and warm and naked between the sheets when he’d left. “Something like that.”

  “I don’t know. I probably shouldn’t get involved. It’ll be good for your character to figure this out on your own.”

  “My character doesn’t need help.” He’d had more than a year to reflect, recognize his flaws and get to work on them. Now he just needed the chance to let them shine. “And, anyway, maybe I want to see your parents. I didn’t get a chance to catch up with them properly at your wedding.”

  Owen huffed in a way that indicated he wasn’t convinced. Travis didn’t really care, so long as the invite was forthcoming. “Fine. Consider this an official invitation.”

  “How kind of you to think of me. I’d love to come to dinner on Sunday. Seven?”

  “Don’t be late.”

  As if. He’d probably spend the afternoon twiddling his thumbs and checking to see if it was time to go yet. But he didn’t tell Owen that.

  They chatted a few more minutes, before hanging up. Travis looked at the face of the phone again. Sunday seemed so far away. A whole six days. Did he really want to keep his distance that long? Would it backfire by wrongly indicating a lack of interest? He tapped the phone so his list of contacts showed up. It was a short list. He’d purged most when he’d moved back, wanting to leave his old life and his old contacts in the past. Only those who were truly important had remained. He scrolled down the list until he found the one he wanted and selected it.

  “Hello?”

  “Mom?” Travis smiled. “What are you doing today?”

  * * *

  TRAVIS STEPPED OFF the short forty-minute flight home to Duthie River right into a rainstorm. He swore under his breath as the drops pelted his face and bare arms. Of course he hadn’t brought a coat. Not because he’d gotten rid of all his winter or rain-protective outerwear when he’d moved to Aruba, but because he hadn’t thought he’d need it.

  When he’d left Vancouver, after a quick shower and a quicker packing job, the sky had been gray but clear and he’d figured a coat would be unnecessary. He’d forgotten how quickly the weather could and did change in the Pacific Northwest. Well, he’d just have to spend the extent of his visit indoors or borrow a coat from his father or brother.

  He brushed at the drops clinging to his arms and hurried toward the covered terminal. The plane was small, carrying only about twenty people including crew. Most headed straight through the terminal to the parking lot on the other side, stepping into the oversized trucks and SUVs that the majority of residents chose to drive in order to deal with the rough terrain and generally wet weather.

  But when Travis looked for Shane, whom his mother had promised would be there on time, there was no one in sight. He sighed. He should have expected this. His younger brother wasn’t what anyone would call reliable, but he’d turn up eventually. And hopefully sooner rather than later after Travis left a terse message on Shane’s voice mail.

  With nothing to do but wait, Travis settled on one of the metal benches and mowed through a bag of chips from the vending machine. He’d left the city early, too early to feel hungry, but now with merely a few hours of sleep to his name and only a muffin to his belly, his stomach let him know that it needed food. Fast.

  He ate a second bag of chips followed by a chocolate bar, and washed it all down with a soda before his brother finally rolled up out front. On the plus side, it had stopped raining. On the negative, Travis had been waiting nearly an hour.

  “Thanks for showing up on time.” Travis tossed his bag into the middle of the vehicle’s bench seat and climbed into his brother’s bright red truck. The rain might have stopped falling, but there was a chill damp in the air that a belly full of chips did little to combat.

  Shane only laughed, clearly unbothered by the less than friendly greeting from the brother he hadn’t seen in over a year. “I aim to please.” Then he squealed the tires on the expensive vehicle as he pulled away from the curb and out of the parking lot.

  Travis felt the edges of his mouth quirk up. Shane could be a pain in his ass—he was rarely on time for anything and often in need of a loan to pay his rent. But he always paid the money back and his charm generally made up for his tardiness, so Travis couldn’t remain mad at him for long. Or maybe he just appreciated the ease that Shane brought to his life.

  “Not working today?” Travis asked as they headed away from the airport and into the town. Like many people in Duthie River, Shane worked at the local paper mill.

  “I’m on swing shift this week.” Which meant he didn’t start until three in the afternoon.

  Shane was following in their father’s footsteps by working at the mill. In fact, Travis was the only male in a long line of Kincaid males not to work at the mill, which at its height had employed more than half the town in one form or another. But in recent years, the demand for services had declined and many legacy employees had been forced to find work elsewhere. Travis considered Shane one of the lucky ones. Though he considered himself, and his choice to pursue a different career path, even luckier.

  “No Mal?” Shane asked as he accelerated onto the highway.

  “Not this time.” The deception tripped easily off Travis’s tongue. It had to, seeing as he’d never told his family that he and Mal were no longer together, though he had high hopes for changing that soon.

  He probably should have come clean months ago, simply explained that he and Mal had broken up and dealt with the fallout then. But every time the right opportunity arose, he found he just wasn’t ready. Wasn’t ready to face their disappointment and his fault in the matter.

  Travis had been the one to leave—the first member of his family not to stay in the small paper mill town in generations. It was a lot of pressure to live up to. Perfect business. Perfect girlfriend. Perfect life. Or what passed for perfect in his mind. A breakup followed by a sordid hookup was far from perfect.

  Travis shoved the thought out of his mind. That was in the past and he was moving forward, which, at least at this point, did not include talking about the breakup. He didn’t see the point, not when he was hopeful that his separation from Mal would also soon be a thing of the past.

  Sure, she’d sent him on his way this morning, but he knew Mal. She didn’t do one-night stands, didn’t do casual sex—as evidenced by the lack of condoms in her apartment. The fact that she’d been so willing, even eager, to allow him access to her, to share such an intimate act with him, spoke volumes.

  He settled back against the leather seats of the truck, glad that the interior was warm and dry—Shane’s previous vehicle, a rusted-out muscle car, had never been able to make the same claim—and watched the scenery flash by.

  It was a quick jaunt to the home that Travis had grown up in. But Shane piloted them a few blocks farther to their grandmother’s house. Mildred Dawes was 81, five foot one and the only one of his grandparents still alive.

  She was waiting on the porch of her house when they pulled up, a frilly apron on over her dress, a huge smile on her face as she waved. Travis felt his already buoyant spirits lift a little higher. It had been too long since he’d seen his family. He would have to make a point of visiting regularly now that he lived closer.

  “Oh, Travis.” His grandma, who only came up to his shoulder, reached out to pull him into a warm hug. It always made him feel like a little boy, back when he’d only come up to her shoulders and she’d fed him cookies even though it would spoil his dinner. “I’m so happy to see you.”
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br />   He hugged her back. “I’m happy to see you too, Gram.” She smelled like perm solution even though she’d given up working at the salon years ago. The scent seemed to have infused itself into her and despite the caustic nature always made Travis feel content.

  “Well, don’t just stand there, come in. I made cookies for you boys.”

  “I can’t stay, Gram.” Shane gave her a quick hug and a kiss. “Got a hot date.”

  “For lunch?” Mildred Dawes frowned at her youngest grandchild and then grinned. “Maybe you’ll introduce this one to me?”

  “Maybe.” Shane flashed his get-out-of-jail smile. It had literally gotten him out of jail when he’d been picked up for public drunkenness as an underage teenager, which only Travis knew about. “But I’ll be here for dinner on Sunday.”

  It was a family ritual to get together for dinner every Sunday. They always had the same meal—pot roast, mashed potatoes and canned corn. Travis was looking forward to it, despite his more refined palate. There was something about the food of childhood that just tasted good. Even if it did come from a can.

  “Maybe you can bring your lady friend.”

  Travis hid his grin. His grandmother would keep asking and Shane would keep acknowledging her question without agreeing. It was a well-choreographed routine that the two had worked out years ago.

  “We’ll see how today goes.” He looked at Travis. “Mom’s going to swing by after work to pick you up.”

  “Or you can stay here.” His grandmother put a hand on his suitcase and tried to lift it. He hadn’t packed heavy, but then his grandmother was a small woman who couldn’t lift much. Travis took it from her hand before she threw out her hip.

  “I’ve got it, Gram. You handle the cookies.” Even though he was full of chips and soda, he always had room for his grandmother’s peanut butter cookies. He could be stuffed with three turkey dinners and an entire cheesecake and still find room for her cookies.

  “You always were a good eater.” She patted him on the cheek and turned to go back into her little house.

  Travis waved at his brother, who gunned the engine before peeling out of the driveway, and followed his grandmother inside.

  “Do you want coffee?”

  “That sounds great, Gram.” He placed his bag by the front door and went with her into the kitchen. It was warm and a little steamy, and a sheet of cookies cooled on a rack on the counter. Travis popped one into his mouth and then breathed in and out quickly when it burned his tongue.

  His grandmother clucked her tongue as she poured the coffee. “You never did have patience.”

  “One of my best qualities,” Travis said around the cookie, which was still trying to adhere to the roof of his mouth. He’d have gulped down some coffee, but the liquid would be just as hot as the cookie. Maybe hotter.

  “Well, sit down. Let the cookies get a chance to cool and tell me what you’ve been up to.” She carried the cups over to the table.

  Travis couldn’t help but notice the shake of her hands. Guilt swept through him. He didn’t usually think about it, but his grandmother was getting old. Her hair was grayer than last time—or she’d just stopped coloring it—and she moved more slowly. Not to mention the shaking. But he didn’t say anything. He knew she was still more than capable of giving him a swat and wouldn’t hesitate to do so.

  “Not much new to share. Just uprooting my life.” He told her about the move and the place he’d put an offer on.

  She smiled the entire time, wrapping her hands around the coffee cup. “Well, it sounds wonderful and it’ll be nice to have you closer.”

  Travis agreed. Although life was going to be hectic, renovating and starting up a new business, there was no reason not to reestablish their weekly phone call. And once his business was up and running, he wouldn’t be able to visit on a regular basis. “How have you been, Gram?”

  “Oh, you know.” She waved a hand. “I’m an old lady. Not much new happens at my age.”

  But Travis noticed the way her gaze darted to the side and she didn’t meet his eyes. “No new beaus?” He always teased her about her love life. Widowed at a young age, Mildred had never remarried though she claimed to have been asked many times. Travis couldn’t blame her suitors. His grandmother was still an attractive woman and one of the kindest people he knew. Not that he was biased.

  “I’m too old for that. But you...” Her gray eyes, the same shade as his, gleamed as she looked up. “Where’s that gorgeous girl you’re engaged to?”

  Once again, not the right time. Spilling the story now, before he’d even had a second cookie, didn’t seem ideal.

  “She had to work,” he found himself lying. Actually, that might not even be a lie. Mal probably was working. “But she says hello.”

  “I’m sorry she couldn’t make it.” His grandmother nodded. “I always like it when she’s here. She adds a certain spark to the family gatherings.”

  Mal always brought great wine, too, which his grandmother also appreciated. “She was disappointed, but promises she’ll visit soon.” Travis also hadn’t told anyone in his family that Mal had returned to Vancouver over a year ago or that he’d bought her out of the bistro. But maybe that was another thing he wouldn’t have to share...if things worked out. “So tell me what’s been going on, catch me up.”

  And his grandmother’s eyes gleamed again as she launched into stories about people Travis had known all his life. He settled in on one of the flowered kitchen chairs for a nice, long listen. It was good to be back.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MAL STARED HARDER at her computer screen. The words were all there in their itemized glory—the event title, the mission statement, the budget, the communications plan. All the pieces that, when pulled together, provided the overview of the charity event she and other local food and beverage insiders were putting on to benefit the homeless. And Mal didn’t actually need to read anything on the screen since she’d drafted the first version of the document, sat in on every meeting and knew all the details by heart. But it annoyed her that she couldn’t.

  Well, she could. She just couldn’t guarantee that she’d retain any of it.

  “Mal?” Donovan stuck his head into her office. “Got a minute?”

  She had more than a minute, she had the rest of her day, seeing as she couldn’t get anything done. “Sure. Come in.”

  He took a seat, but studied her instead of launching into whatever had brought him to her office. She shifted, but stilled once she realized she was doing it. “Are you feeling okay, Mal?”

  “I’m fine.” The words shot out of her mouth, no doubt proving just how not fine she was, but Mal rode it out, even nodding and folding her hands on top of her glass desk as though she hadn’t a care on her mind.

  “Right.” Donovan, who was the oldest and, in his mind, most responsible Ford sibling, didn’t even bother disguising his disbelief.

  “I am.” Mal, as youngest and, in her mind, most together Ford sibling, felt obligated to defend herself. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Donovan merely continued with his brotherly look of disbelief. Mal tried to look offended, but it was tricky when he was right. Still, it was her sisterly duty to try. Otherwise, Donovan might start thinking he was right all the time, then the ailment would pass to Owen and soon anarchy would reign. So, really, it was for the sake of the family’s well-being that she maintained her pretense of fine-ness.

  “All right.” Donovan gave in with a brief shake of his head that told her he wasn’t fooled but was willing to let it go for now.

  Mal exhaled silently, grateful that his interrogation had been short-lived. “What’s up?” Maybe he’d give her something new to focus on.

  “What’s going on with you and Travis?”

  And maybe not.

  “Nothing.” She kept her voice
steady, her tone measured. “Why would you think something’s going on?” Aside from the fact that he’d spent the night in her bed two days ago. But Donovan didn’t know that. No one except she and Travis knew that.

  “Because of the way you didn’t stick around at Elephants the other night.”

  “I was on a date.” She spoke each word clearly since he needed reminding. “And hanging out with my brothers? Not exactly helping me get to know the guy.”

  “So you wouldn’t have stayed for a drink even if Travis hadn’t been there?”

  “That’s right.” And what Donovan didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. She kept her gaze on his, willed her bubbling emotions to flatten.

  “Oh. Because it seemed like something was going on.” Donovan shifted forward in his seat. “And when Travis left, he said he was going to talk to you.”

  “Did he?” Mal wasn’t about to confirm anything. Not about to deny it, either, afraid that might give even more away.

  “Yes, and he seemed serious. He didn’t stop by?”

  Mal went with an airy wave in place of a verbal response.

  Donovan’s brow smoothed. “I see.” And Mal feared that he did. “Mal.” His empathic expression almost undid her. Almost.

  “Yes, Donovan?”

  He stared at her with his patented I’m-older-and-know-better stare and then conceded. “Fine. We’ll pretend everything is normal.”

  “Good.” Mal did her best to ignore the internal voice that wondered why she still felt the need to hide what had happened. To protect herself? Her pride? Travis? “Because everything is normal.”

  “I’m so glad you said that.”

  “Why?” And why did she suddenly feel as if she’d been had?

  “Because Owen invited him to join us for dinner next Sunday.”

  Mal wondered if she could come up with a sudden emergency or come down with a sudden illness.

  “And if you don’t show up, I’ll know that everything isn’t fine.”

  She planted her hands on the desk. “I’ll see you there.”