by Ivy Layne
“I baked a cake. I wasn't sure what you had planned for dessert, so you can always save it for another night. It will keep for a few days.”
Savannah took the box from Royal, hefting it gingerly. With a raised eyebrow at me, she said, “I hope you know you owe me five pounds. I have a thing for your ginger-molasses cookies. A big thing. What kind of cake is this?”
“Chocolate, with double chocolate frosting and raspberry and cream filling.” I know I’d baked it, but my mouth watered anyway. It was my favorite cake. I knew exactly how good it was.
“I think tonight's dessert can be saved for tomorrow,” Savannah said. “We'll have this instead. So thoughtful of you to bake for this crowd of heathens. I'll bring it down to the kitchen. We don't have an appropriate space for before-dinner cocktails yet, so everyone's just milling around the dining room. Dinner will be served in about ten minutes. Not enough time for a tour,” a pointed look at Royal, “but enough to get a glass of wine. I think Hope just came down. She's looking forward to seeing you, Daisy.” With that, she turned for the back of the hall, heading, I guessed, to the kitchens.
“Nice to meet you, Savannah,” I called out as she strode away.
She raised her chin back in our direction as she walked. “You too, Daisy. Enjoy your visit to the madhouse.”
I looked at Royal. “She's not what I expected. I like her.”
“I do, too. Her mother, Miss Martha, was the housekeeper here most of my life. I grew up with Savannah running around the house. We got lucky she agreed to take on the job. She's ridiculously efficient, and she doesn't put up with crap from anyone. Especially Finn.”
“Is Finn usually difficult?” I asked, taking the arm Royal held out for me.
“No, that's the funny thing. He's pretty chill. I haven't seen him much—he left home after high school, joined the Army, and got out and went to culinary school. He didn't come home often. Didn't get along with Prentice. But he was always laid-back before, and since he's been home it doesn't seem like much has changed except when it comes to the cook and Savannah. If he drives the cook to quit I really do think Savannah might kill him. She's got her hands full trying to turn this place into a livable home again. She doesn't need to worry about feeding all of us on top of that.”
Looking around, I could see what he meant. The front hall was huge, the ceiling arcing two stories above us with a massive chandelier in the center. What I could see of the house was clean and polished, the wood warm and glowing, the crystal chandelier sparkling.
There was very little furniture and no artwork. It looked unfinished. As we passed through the front hall, arching doorways opened on either side into what should have been formal parlors. Both rooms were empty.
A little further, and we turned left through open double doors into a dining room that was twice as big as the building that held my bakery and apartment. The dark-beamed and white plaster ceiling rose a full two stories above us, the great iron chandeliers glowing, the long table shining, set with enough places to feed an army. Or just the Sawyers.
Royal's family was clustered at the far end of the dining room in a smaller area with a wide bay window, set up with its own table and chairs. Maybe a breakfast area. Instead of being set for a meal, the table held a selection of appetizers and several open bottles of wine. My nerves cranked up a notch with so many near-strangers milling around, but Hope spotted us and, hooking her arm through Griffen's, made a beeline straight for us.
“You look amazing!” Hope circled me, checking out my dress and hair before drawing me into a tight hug. From behind her, I heard Griffen say to Royal, “You brought her to family dinner on your first date? Brave man.”
“Crazy man,” Hope corrected.
“Same difference,” Royal said, tugging me back from Hope and winding his arm around my waist. With the heat of his body at my side, I wasn't nervous anymore. “Anyway, if a family dinner doesn't scare her away, nothing will.”
“I don't scare that easily.” I didn't, usually.
I accepted a glass of wine from Hope and had barely taken a sip before a gong sounded from somewhere in the house. Everyone turned and started for the massive dining room table.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Daisy
Royal held out his arm and I took it, following him to our place at the table, surprised to see a beautifully drawn note card in my spot, right beside Royal's. Savannah was good.
As if my thought had conjured her out of thin air, she appeared at my right and gracefully set a steaming bowl of soup in front of me, then Royal, before disappearing through a door at the other end of the room. She managed to serve the entire table full of Sawyers while my soup was still hot.
I dipped in a spoon to taste. Rich, salty, beef broth. Onions—a little overcooked—and too much cheese melted on top. I snuck a glance across the table at Finn Sawyer, not surprised to see his eyes roll to the ceiling above, and not in ecstasy.
The soup was decent, don't get me wrong. I'm the last person to complain, particularly when I'm a guest. I also make it a policy not to complain about food that I didn't have to cook. If someone else is kind enough to feed me, I eat with a smile on my face. A lesson Finn Sawyer apparently hadn't learned.
Royal leaned into my side. “If Finn doesn't eat that soup, Savannah might dump it over his head.”
Watching Royal's brother across the table, I whispered back, “No way he eats all of it.”
“Is it that bad?” Royal ate another spoonful slowly, maybe trying to taste what Finn found so unsatisfactory.
“It's not bad,” I assured him. “But if Finn went to CIA he has a more refined palate than the rest of you, and while the soup is okay, it isn't great. “
Across the table, Finn set his soup spoon down with a clatter and leaned back in his chair. Savannah was at his left almost immediately, clearing his soup with a scowl.
“I guess he ate just enough to save himself from a soup bath,” Royal said.
I laughed, and looking across the table, I caught the eye of Royal's youngest sister, Sterling. To my surprise, she winked at me, and I found myself winking back. Then she tilted her head at Parker's husband beside her and rolled her eyes. He was going on and on about a polo team he played for up in New York, giving us a play-by-play of an entire match.
To everyone's dismay, someone else picked up the conversational baton and started arguing with Parker's husband about polo. Royal leaned in to whisper, “I should have introduced you to everyone before dinner, but we ran out of time. The one sitting next to Sterling is Tyler, Parker's husband. My cousin Bryce is the one talking right now. His mother Ophelia is sitting next to him.”
We listened for another minute as Bryce droned on about his own successes on the polo field. Royal sat back and rolled his eyes, suddenly looking so much like Sterling it was uncanny. Under his breath, he murmured, “Christ, it's like Lifestyles of the Rich and Boring.”
This time I laughed out loud. I couldn't help it. Royal had nailed the two of them so perfectly. Rich, good-looking, and god-awful boring. Tyler and Bryce played a game of who's more privileged through the rest of the soup course and the boring-but-edible salad.
I pretended to concentrate on my food but instead studied the table. Griffen was wrapped up in Hope, neither of them paying any attention to Bryce and Tyler. Hope looked like her appetite was giving her trouble and Griffen was trying to find the choicest bites that might tempt her to eat. I liked watching them together. Hope had spent most of her life taking care of other people. It was nice to see someone taking care of her.
Parker was nodding now and then, a vague smile on her face. She looked like a woman who had a lot of practice pretending she was paying attention when she was actually doing anything but.
Royal's Aunt Ophelia beamed at her son as if she couldn't imagine a child more brilliant and wonderful than this one. So far, he didn't se
em particularly obnoxious, just full of himself and annoying.
Sterling took a deep sip of wine, both Griffen and Royal watching. Royal's other sisters, Avery and Quinn, were all the way at the other end of the table, seated next to each other, deep in a quiet conversation the rest of us couldn't hear.
Too bad we couldn't stick Tyler and Bryce together, maybe in another room. Then the rest of us could talk about something other than… What were they on about now? Sailing?
Savannah was back, smoothly clearing the salad, joined by a woman dressed in a chef's uniform. They worked as a well-orchestrated team, Savannah removing the salad plate moments before the cook placed the entrée in front of each diner. She scowled down at Finn as she served him his food. I had to wonder if his meal would be edible.
The rest of the dinner might have gone differently if the chef hadn't chosen that night to serve peas. I never would have believed it, sitting in that elegant dining room with so many well-dressed people, but everything spiraled out of control in the blink of an eye.
At his mother's encouragement, Bryce was droning on about winning some tennis tournament at a club they belonged to. Sterling, sitting opposite him, took another long sip of wine before she slumped back in her chair, her eyes glued to the ceiling as if praying for patience. She wasn't the only one.
Before anyone realized what she was up to, Sterling placed one round, green pea directly in the center of her silver spoon and catapulted it across the table, directly at her cousin Bryce.
I slammed my hand over my mouth before the laugh could escape as Bryce lifted his fingers to brush at his hair, too caught up in his own story to realize he'd been struck by one of Sterling's peas. Undaunted, she shot again. This time she caught him straight between the eyes.
Griffen leaned past Hope—I'm assuming to tell Sterling to knock it off. He was too late. Bryce flung his own peas back across the table, missing Sterling and smacking Tyler in the face. After the way those two had bored us all to death through dinner, I had to resist the urge to clap.
Beside me, Royal was shaking with suppressed laughter. Someone at the other end of the table, maybe Avery or Quinn, pitched a dinner roll at our end. I don't even think they were aiming at someone specific. I think whoever threw it just wanted to throw something. From there, the battle was on.
Projectiles burst from every direction—dinner rolls, bits of mushroom—I'm pretty sure I even spotted a shrimp flying through the air. Torn between amusement and wanting to protect my new dress, I opted to stay out of the fight. Royal mostly did, though he couldn't resist flicking peas at Bryce and Ophelia when they were looking the other way.
Royal caught Griffen's eye. “Aren't you going to put a stop to this?”
Griffen shrugged, a smile teasing his mouth. “Eventually. If I have to. Everyone's having so much fun, I don't have the heart to stop them now.”
Griffen didn't want to stop them, but the second I saw Savannah's face, I thought it might have been better if he had. Heartstone Manor's efficient, friendly housekeeper looked like her head was going to explode. Her face flushed a deep pink, she opened her mouth—I thought to yell—then snapped it shut as if she'd thought better of what she wanted to say. I imagined I could hear her teeth grinding from across the room.
Slowly, everyone ceased fire, the heat of battle chilled by the ice in Savannah's eyes.
“I am not cleaning this up. If you all plan to act like children you can clean up your messes. Let me know when you're done, and we'll consider clearing the dinner dishes and serving you chocolate cake, but if there’s a single pea on this carpet, you get nothing. Understood?”
The table echoed with a mumbled round of, “Understood.” That might have been it, but Finn dared to add, “I wouldn't have thrown the peas if they hadn't been overcooked.”
Savannah's face contorted as she let out a sound somewhere between a roar and a growl. She stormed across the space separating them, snatched up Finn's half-full plate, and slammed it down over his head. Rich cream sauce dripped from his dark hair, staining his shirt, peas and mushrooms catching in the dark strands before tumbling to his lap.
Savannah turned on her heel and strode from the dining room, the door swinging shut behind her.
“Someday,” Royal said to his younger brother, “you're going to learn when to keep your mouth shut.”
“Not likely,” Finn said, shaking his head. “If the rest of you don't mind, I'm going to go change clothes and wash this bland sauce out of my hair.”
“You're supposed to help us clean up!” Sterling called after him. Finn raised a hand in acknowledgment but didn't stop.
“You started it, you should have to clean it all up,” Bryce said, pointing his finger at Sterling.
“Good luck with that,” Sterling shouted back, lurching to her feet. She grabbed for her half-full glass of wine. I don't know if she'd been drinking more than we saw or if she just caught the edge of her heel, but she tipped to the side, upending the glass of red wine over Tyler's head.
Parker's husband shot from his seat, glaring at everyone, even his wife. “That is it! You people are all insane. I don't know how I lasted so long in this hick town, but I'm out of here. I don't care how much money is in it for us at the end. I'm done.”
Parker leveled cool eyes on her husband. “So, you're going back to New York then?”
“I'm sure as hell not staying here for another five years. I thought I could put up with it. For you. But this is a nightmare. The house is a disaster and your family is insane. Every single one of them. I won't have anything to do with it. I'll be on the next plane out. If you care about this marriage, you can get started packing our bags.”
As one, we watched Tyler storm out of the dining room, just like Savannah had. Unlike Savannah, I was pretty sure Tyler wasn't coming back. Parker sat in her seat, face blank, her hand shaking only the tiniest bit as she took another sip of wine.
Sterling sank into Tyler's abandoned chair and threw her arms around Parker in an awkward hug. I couldn't catch what she said, but the tone was apologetic, Sterling's face distraught.
Parker said something back that must have been comforting. Sterling straightened, shoving away her own wine glass and reaching for the bottle to top off Parker's.
“Aren't you going to do something?” Bryce demanded. “He's the only decent one of all of you. Probably because he's not a Sawyer.”
“No,” Parker said. “I'm tired of chasing after him, soothing his hurt feelings and trying to make everything better. If he doesn't want to live in Heartstone Manor with the rest of us, then he can go.”
Bryce seemed ready to argue, but Royal stepped in. “Daisy brought a double chocolate cake for dessert. If any of you want some, I suggest you get to cleaning.”
I pushed back my chair, ready to pitch in, though I hadn't thrown a single pea. Royal took my arm and tugged me away from the table to where Griffen stood with Hope, neither of them cleaning either.
Fair enough since they also hadn't thrown anything. Griffen was talking quietly with Hope.
“What's wrong? Are you okay?” Royal asked.
“I'm fine,” Hope insisted.
“You're not, you're turning green,” Griffen said. “I'm taking you up to bed now. I just have to—” he cut off abruptly. “Damn.”
“What is it?” Royal asked.
“It's nothing, really. It's just that I told Hawk I'd go check out the watchtower. I was supposed to do it this afternoon and then—” A shared glance with Hope.
“I distracted you,” she said with a weak smile. “Can't you do it tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I guess. Except Hawk needed that report to update orders for supplies, and he wanted to send the orders in first thing. I was supposed to do it a few days ago. And we're going into Asheville tomorrow to meet with Brax about that project he wants to invest in.”
“We can do i
t,” Royal said, “if Hope has a pair of shoes she can lend Daisy. Just let me know what we should look out for. I'll see if I can talk Savannah into letting us take dessert on the road.” Royal turned to me. “It's a short walk past the gardens, but the watchtower is something to see. Definitely more romantic than cleaning peas off the carpet.”
“If Hope can hook me up with a pair of shoes, that sounds great.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Daisy
I only felt a little guilty about leaving while everyone else was still cleaning up. Hope found me a pair of sneakers that fit when we laced them tightly, and Royal met me by the back door with a bag that looked like it held more than two pieces of cake. The sun had only just begun to drop in the sky. Plenty of time for a short hike.
We headed out, taking the gravel path that led us past the bench and tree where we sat on my first visit to Heartstone Manor. The path wound deeper into the gardens, and it didn't take much imagination to see how beautiful they must have been before Royal's father had abandoned them.
Through the scraggly bushes, I caught a flash of water off to my right along with the roofline of another structure. “Do you have a pool?”
I wished the words back as soon as I asked them. This was Heartstone Manor. Of course, they had a pool. Royal sent me a grin, the one that always made my heart speed up. “The pool is one of the first things Griffen fixed. The pool house, on the other hand, might fall down on our heads. As long as we can swim when it gets hot, none of us cares.”
“I wouldn't care either. I love splashing in the river when it gets hot in the summer, but it must be sweet to have a pool.”
This time, Royal's grin held a flash of heat. “You're welcome to swim anytime. Just for curiosity's sake… Are you a bikini kind of girl?”
I grinned back, knowing my own eyes held that same flash of heat. I couldn't help it. His question made me think about wearing a bikini for Royal. And straight from there, my brain conjured a vision of Royal in board shorts, wet from the water. That hard body and all that smooth skin. I felt the flush hit my cheeks. Too long without sex was turning me into a perv. Then again, if there were ever a man worth perving over, he was definitely Royal.
