Like Father, Like Son

by Karina Bliss

  “That’s good,” she said, “because half the time it’s your turn.”

  He blinked.

  “Oh, God, you can’t cook.”

  “Nana Jo taught me to cook,” he said, “though I’m a little rusty. Nadia considered the kitchen her domain.”

  Pip knew without asking that Nadia was cordon bleu.

  This is not a competition, she reminded herself, but another thought had already intruded: And such a great mother.

  “You know, I think I’ll get an early night,” Pip said, suddenly worn-out. “I put some bed linen next to the couch…it’s a pullout.”

  She couldn’t see his face as Joe looked at the couch, but imagining it lifted her spirits. “Like you said, sex only muddies the waters, so let’s take it out of the equation.”

  Pip had planned this tongue in cheek—they could no more keep their hands off each other than breathe. She waited for Joe to laugh, to haul her into his arms and say, “this is ridiculous. We can find a better way.”

  “Whatever you want, Pip.” His tone was completely neutral, his expression unreadable.

  I want you. And us, back to the way we were before pregnancy changed everything.

  “Good night, Joe.” Pip went into her bedroom, closed the door and leaned her forehead against it. The wood was cold. So much for honesty no matter what.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  PIP HAD NEVER SEEN Joe more nervous. He must have straightened his tie a dozen times and apologized for the restaurant’s decor at least two dozen as they stood in the vestibule waiting for his family to arrive.

  “It’s fine,” she reassured him through the gloom. Admittedly, the eatery was small and badly lit, and the carpet had the musty smell of too many beers spilled over the years. But the staff was cheerful and the table beautifully decorated with a Thanksgiving centerpiece of baby pumpkins, green apples and autumn leaves.

  Joe had booked the whole place, even bringing in his own wine selection, and she’d had to resist the impulse to ask if he could afford all this. “You done good,” she reiterated, “and the menu sounds wonderful.”

  Except for the marshmallow and yam dish…what was that about? But her mouth watered for the rest—turkey breast, cranberry stuffing, green beans and mashed potatoes, with pumpkin and apple pies to follow. Having thrown up breakfast, Pip was starving.

  Pregnancy seemed to have a lot of disadvantages with few benefits. Her breasts were sore, she became nauseous at odd times of the day and she couldn’t drink.

  Which was a shame because she’d been infected by Joe’s anxiety. Nervously, Pip sipped her cranberry juice. There was too much riding on this event, and that was her fault. She was the one who’d insisted on meeting the people who would temporarily replace her family if she decided to stay. And Joe had taken it to heart, which made her feel guilty and agitated and pressured.

  Didn’t the damn fool realize her decision to stay rested on how he felt about her, not on how well his family behaved? After a week of living together, they were still hiding behind a scrupulous politeness. “So is there anything I should know about the people coming?”

  “Like what?” He was immediately defensive. Their easy rapport had been lost with the pregnancy, and that hurt.

  “Sorry we’re late. This place was murder to find,” said Doug, as he opened the door for Kaitlin. “Nadia’s in the parking lot talking to…” His words trailed off as he followed her into the restaurant and squinted.

  “Wow, it’s like being in a cave,” enthused Kaitlin, very pretty in a purple party dress. Pip wondered if she should have worn a skirt instead of black trousers and an angora knit top. Seemed like people dressed up for Thanksgiving. Then everyone arrived at once and she was struggling to keep up with Joe’s staccato introductions. Cousin Belle…Sue’s husband, Rick…Aunt Emily, Aunt Jenny, her husband, Luke.

  Pip got lost in a confusing deluge of names and handshakes. Overwhelmed, she stepped back and found herself standing next to Doug. “Thank God, a familiar face,” she murmured.

  “Nadia was nervous about this, too,” he confided. “She’s still intimidated by Sue.”

  Pip tried to remember which one Sue was. Oh, yes, Joe’s good friend since high school, who’d turned out to be his cousin. Pip studied the woman holding one of the three babies. Willowy, naturally beautiful, self-possessed. “I would have thought they’d be soul sisters,” she said. “They seem so alike.”

  “Exactly.” Doug gave her a penetrating look. “You don’t know?”

  “Don’t know wh—?”

  “Pip.” Joe touched her arm. “I want you to meet my uncle Daniel. Doug, you haven’t got a drink—let me sort you out.”

  Left alone with Daniel, Pip smiled and held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you.” Joe’s young uncle shared three obvious family traits with his nephew. He was equally muscled, equally tall and equally grim. Keen navy eyes assessed her, then he shook her hand with a grip that made no allowances for wimps.

  “And I’m pleased to meet you.” He released her hand and Pip wriggled her fingers to get the feeling back. It wasn’t hard to imagine his schoolboy reaction to anyone who called his deep auburn hair red; she could only marvel that anyone had dared.

  “So, Daniel, what do you do?”

  Amusement lightened his countenance. “Joe talks about me that much, huh?”

  Pip drained her cranberry juice, the ice making her teeth ache. “Actually, I don’t know much about anybody here,” she confessed.

  “That’s okay, we don’t know anything about you, either,” he replied without a trace of irony. Pip spent the next ten minutes trying to get to know him better, but failed. He was polite, happy to do small talk and as close as a clam. Bloody Frasers.

  In the end she excused herself on the pretext of going to the bathroom.

  “Great guy, isn’t he?” said Joe as she passed. He was talking to the maître d’ about laying out the buffet.

  “Charming,” said Pip, but Joe missed the sarcasm.

  “He doesn’t show that side of himself to many people. He must like you.”

  Oh, great. “Is there anything I should know about Sue and Nadia?”

  Joe’s face lost all expression. “Why?”

  “Doug mentioned something.”

  “Nadia was jealous over my friendship with Sue.” Joe shrugged as if to say, “Women.”

  “Your cousin?”

  “Remember, we didn’t know that then…. What the hell?” Pip followed Joe’s astonished gaze to the new arrival standing in the doorway. Somewhere in his late fifties, the man was still handsome in the meticulous way of aging alpha males. His blond hair was immaculately styled, his expensive, pale blue suit buttoned over a slight paunch.

  “Excuse me.” She watched Joe stride over, reaching the man at the same time his cousin Belle did.

  Kaitlin came over, holding a baby. “I think that’s my great-uncle Sam,” she said excitedly.

  “Who’s this?” Pip smiled nervously at the infant.

  “One of Sue’s foster babies. His name is Donnie. Right now she only has two, plus Carrie, but Carrie is hers and Rick’s. They adopted her.”

  Pip was learning more about this family from Kaitlin than Joe had ever told her. She glanced over at Sue, who was soothing a one-year-old while chatting with Nadia and Doug.

  Pip could see why Nadia might find her intimidating. The woman obviously took multitasking even beyond Nadia’s level. Pip loved kids, but her experience of babies was negligible. And in seven and a half months she’d have one. “Can I hold him?”

  “Sure.” Kaitlin hefted the baby forward like a pro and Pip awkwardly settled him on her hip.

  Donnie stared at her as though she were a monster from the deep. She had this effect on horses, too. It didn’t matter how bravely she approached, they knew she was scared of them and would toss their heads, or skitter nervously until she gulped and ran.

  The baby’s lower lip dropped. Pip gave him a frantic little jiggle. “You’re o
kay, mate.”

  Crystal tears welled in his big blue eyes; Donnie started to howl.

  With sweat breaking out on her forehead, Pip patted his back. The baby howled louder. Conceding defeat, she thrust him at Kaitlin. The crying stopped. Donnie’s chubby arms tightened around the girl’s neck. Like an owl, he swiveled his head to look back at Pip. His lower lip started to quiver again.

  “How weird that he doesn’t like you,” said Kaitlin and took him away.

  Pip stared after the baby. Over Kaitlin’s shoulder he stared back. What did Donnie know that he wasn’t telling?

  “WHAT THE HELL DO you want?” Joe asked.

  “Dad,” his cousin Belle warned, “if you’re here to cause trouble…”

  Uncle Sam held up his hands with an expression of aggrieved innocence. “I’m here to spend Thanksgiving with my little girl,” he said, “same as I’ve always done.”

  He fixed his gaze on Aunt Emily, who remained on the other side of the room with Aunt Jenny and her husband, Luke. Emily seemed conflicted. Oh, great, thought Joe, she still loves this bastard. He moved to block her from Sam’s view. “It would be better if you left.”

  “That’s for my daughter to decide,” Sam said coldly. “And why haven’t you been returning my lawyer’s calls?”

  “I’m not talking about the goddamn necklace now.” Very aware of Pip somewhere behind him, Joe kept his manner pleasant.

  Sam seemed to collect himself. “You’re right, this isn’t the time or place.” He turned to his daughter. “You said I should make more of an effort. I’m making more of an effort.”

  “This wasn’t what I meant, Dad.”

  “I’m not a skulker, Belle, and Thanksgiving is a Carson family tradition. Are you saying your daddy’s no longer welcome at the table?”

  “No, Dad, but…” Belle scanned the room for her fiancé, Matt, obviously hoping for moral support, but Matt was making a phone call outside. Joe put an arm around his cousin’s shoulders.

  “It’s not Belle’s party, Sam, it’s mine. And since your overbearing behavior’s the reason you’re not hosting Thanksgiving this year, maybe appeasement would work better for you. You can start by leaving quietly.”

  Sam glanced toward Aunt Emily. When his gaze returned to Joe’s it was reptilian cold. “I won’t mention the necklace. I will make an effort with you and yours. Outside this restaurant, we still have unfinished business. Inside it, I will be civil for the sake of my wife and daughter.”

  Under Joe’s arm, Belle stirred. In her expression, he saw the hope he’d long extinguished where his own father was concerned. The possibility of change, of healing. A false hope, but he couldn’t be the one to extinguish it. “Okay,” he said to Belle, “as long as your mother agrees.”

  All three looked over to Aunt Emily, whose gaze fluttered between her husband and daughter before settling on Belle. She nodded assent. What we do for our kids, Joe thought. At least some of us.

  Then Aunt Emily turned away to talk to Aunt Jenny and Luke, her message clear. So far and no further. Sam still had a hell of a lot of work to do.

  Transmitting a “happy families” smile to Pip, Joe said to his uncle, “You put one step out of line, and you’re out of here. You got that?”

  Before Sam could respond, Kaitlin asked, “Are you Sam Carson?” She sounded a little disappointed. “I’m Kaitlin Josephine Fraser and I think we’re related.”

  “If you’re Joe’s daughter then yes, you’re my great-niece,” Sam said politely. “Is this one of Sue’s foster children?”

  Belle pulled Joe aside. “Thank you,” she said in a low voice.

  “How many chances, Belle?”

  “As many as it takes.”

  Joe didn’t get it; he would never get it.

  Kaitlin was still talking to Sam. “Did you name Belle after the princess in Beauty and the Beast?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned to Joe. “Dad, you and Mom should have called me that.”

  Joe remembered the scrap of humanity handed to him at the hospital, all squalling, red-faced indignation. “Be grateful,” he advised his firstborn. “I wanted to call you Slugger.”

  For the first time he thought of his unborn child and was swept with sudden fierce loyalty. He had to make Pip stay.

  “Daaad,” Kaitlin complained.

  Belle laughed, drawing her father’s attention. “We called her Belle,” he answered Kaitlin, “because she was so beautiful.”

  Flustered, Belle stopped laughing. It was probably the first compliment her old man had ever paid her.

  “Like you, young lady,” Sam added gallantly. “Obviously, you take after your mother.”

  Joe narrowed his eyes and Belle said hastily, “Dad, let’s get you a drink.”

  Daniel strolled over after they left for the bar. “So, are we having fun yet?”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  PIP WAS ABOUT TO ASK the bartender for another cranberry juice when the latecomer beckoned from the other end of the bar.

  Close up, he had the light tan of a regular golfer, while the faint white band on the ring finger of his summoning hand proclaimed recent singledom. Certainly he felt free to run a connoisseur’s eye over her curves.

  “Try one of these, little lady. I got the bartender to mix one of my Thanksgiving specials.” He filled her empty glass from a jug brimming with ice and lemon slices.

  Giving him a friendly smile, Pip inspected the pale cinnamon-colored contents with its bobbing mint leaves and lemon slices. “As long as it’s nonalcoholic.”

  In the midst of handing over the glass, the man paused. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

  Her smile faltered. “What m-makes you ask?”

  “Isn’t that why most women give up drinking?”

  “Oh, right.” Pip laughed shrilly. “No, I’m not pregnant. Goodness me, no!” A terrible liar, she could feel the heat suffusing her face.

  “That’s all right then. It’s iced tea with a twist.”

  Pip hid her burning face in the glass. She hadn’t developed the Americans’ partiality for iced tea, but with her first sip it proved surprising palatable. Very lemony, with an aftertaste she immediately recognized. “You’ve got Angostura bitters flavoring this, haven’t you?”

  Joe’s relative roared with laughter. “Bite-ters,’” he repeated. “What’s your accent, honey? Because it sure isn’t from here.” Grabbing a bottle of whiskey at his elbow, he refilled his empty glass.

  His rather patronizing endearments were starting to annoy her. “New Zealand.”

  “You’re a long way from home.” He glanced around the room, disdain on his face. “So who do you belong to in our mongrel litter?”

  “Myself.” Pip took another sip. “Who owns you?”

  For a moment he looked startled, then gave a dry chuckle and held out his hand. “That’s very amusing. I’m Sam Carson.”

  Pip racked her memory banks. “You’re Adam’s brother,” she said triumphantly, taking his proffered hand. This wasn’t so hard.

  “Half brother,” he corrected coldly.

  “I’m Philippa Browne, Kaitlin’s teacher and Joe’s…girlfriend.”

  His grip tightened. What was it about these guys and their handshakes? “I’m the one everyone blames for Adam’s second stroke.” Releasing her hand, Sam took another slug of his drink. Despite his nonchalance, the whiskey in the glass had trembled when he said Adam’s name.

  “If that was true you wouldn’t have been invited today, would you?”

  He laughed, a dark humorless sound. “I never back down from a fight.” Staring into his glass, Sam added cryptically, “And Adam instigated that one at the golf club. Damn sick fool threw a punch.”

  He took another gulp of whiskey, then glanced somberly at Pip. “Now that I’ve seen him, I wonder if I did the right thing, resuscitating the poor bastard when he collapsed after hitting me. I wouldn’t wish his condition on my worst enemy.”

  Pip stared at him in dismay. His assessment
of Adam’s recovery was so different from Joe’s.

  “And Adam is my worst enemy right now, but—” Sam tapped the side of his patrician nose with a finger that was slightly off target “—we can’t mention that today. Today I’m here to talk sense into my wife.”

  He gestured to one of Joe’s aunts, a woman Pip recalled as very sweet but fragile, who stood with her back to them. “Emily left me, apparently because I’m a son of a bitch. I keep waiting for her to come to her senses and come home but…” He shrugged. “So here I am. Now she says this isn’t the appropriate forum.”

  Sam emptied his glass in three swallows, grimacing at the taste. “I said, what is the right forum when you won’t return my calls, goddammit? I thought leaving my wedding ring at home would shock her into talking. Instead, Emily told me not to be childish.”

  Pip didn’t know how to reply. He was obviously hurting, but his bitterness made it easier to sympathize with his wife. Still, when he reached for the whiskey, she instinctively caught the bottle’s neck. “You’ll make a better case for yourself sober,” she suggested gently.

  “And you’ll do much better if you butt out of what’s none of your business,” he said, equally dulcet. Jerking the bottle from her grasp, Sam refilled his tumbler.

  Pip took the hint and left, thinking that if she included Daniel and the baby, that was three new friends she’d made today.

  Across the room, Joe’s cousin Belle stood with her fiancé. “Come join us,” the curly-headed blonde invited.

  Pip was so grateful, she could have hugged her. Instead she gushed, “I just love your earrings,” even though they were gaudy monstrosities, encrusted with crystal and rhinestone.

  Belle caught Matt’s eye and they burst out laughing. “Sorry,” she said, “it’s a private joke. Matt dared me to wear them. I do know they’re ugly….”

  And Pip had just shown herself as either insincere or having appalling taste. Taking a nervous gulp of her iced tea, she caught sight of Sam sloshing more Scotch into his glass. “Listen, that man at the bar—Sam—is hitting the sauce pretty hard. Maybe someone should keep an eye on him.”