When they pulled into his driveway, several cars were already in front of them. Erin cursed silently. It would have been bad enough having only family around today with Jen the way she was, and now a roomful of people would be here. Anyone that knew Jen would be able to tell something was wrong, and Jen was just a few questions away from breaking down entirely. She was only holding herself together now by not talking about Charlie. If someone pushed her, she’d break open like a dam. They sat in the car for a moment, not saying anything.
“We could go home,” Erin suggested.
Jen shrugged. “What difference does it make? Everyone knows I’m a failure anyway.”
Erin touched her hand and waited until Jen met her eyes. “That’s not true at all, Jen. You’re a small-business owner and an excellent manager. That’s not failure by anyone’s standards.”
Jen’s face crumpled for a moment, and then she shook her head, hard. “But I can’t hold on to a man, can I? First Jacob, and now this. Something must be wrong with me.”
“Goddamn it, Jen, stop it. In both cases, it was his fault, not yours. Jacob was an unmitigated ass, and Charlie…”
Jen gave a bitter laugh. “What? What was wrong with him? Nothing, that’s what. He’s a wonderful person.”
Erin shook her head. “That’s clearly not true, Jen. He left you. He’s a coward, if nothing else. He used you and he left.” She had to swallow her own hurt, as it was precisely what Darcy had done to her.
Jen’s eyes were leaking tears. “What was he supposed to do? I mean, Christ, he told me he was leaving when I first met him, for God’s sake.”
“He didn’t have to leave, Jen.”
“Of course he did!”
Erin shook her head, more firmly. “No. He didn’t. You’re special enough to hold onto, even if you don’t believe it. And he knew how you felt about him. I’m pretty sure he felt the same way for you.”
Jen was crying now, her shoulders shaking. “Then why? Something’s wrong with me. What other reason could there be?”
Erin pulled her into an awkward hug. They were still in the car, and the windows of the little Beetle had fogged up. Surely someone had heard them drive up, but luckily no one had come out to investigate yet. Erin knew Lydia had told their father about the breakup, so she could only hope that had something to do with being left alone. They stayed there in each other’s arms long enough for Jen to calm down, and when she pulled away, her face was a little more natural than it had been the last few days.
“I’m sorry, Erin,” Jen said. “You shouldn’t have to comfort me like this. It’s my problem, not yours.”
Erin laughed. “Of course it’s my problem, Jen. I care about you. I don’t want you to be unhappy. I’m so sorry it turned out this way.”
Jen seemed to hesitate before she touched Erin’s hand. “And I’m sorry. About Darcy. She left, too.”
Erin felt a little flash of dread and looked away. “That doesn’t matter. It isn’t like we were dating or anything.”
“But you were thinking about it. I could tell. The two of you seemed awfully cozy at the brewers’ festival.”
Erin felt a stab of guilt. She hated lying to Jen, but no way was she going to tell her about Darcy right now. She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m fine. It’s not the same thing as you and Charlie. And anyway, I hate her now.”
They were quiet for a long time, staring at the foggy windows. Finally, Jen sighed. “I guess we better get in there. I’m sure everyone thinks I’m having a nervous breakdown out here by now.”
Erin grinned at her. “Aren’t you?”
Jen laughed and pushed her arm. “Fuck you.”
When they opened the door to their father’s house, the heavenly scent of truffle oil, turkey, and cornbread greeted them. The house was packed with people, and everyone shouted a welcome at them as they came in. Erin spotted some of their dad’s brothers and their mother’s sister, and she recognized several of her father’s friends from the restaurant business. She was about to head over to her aunt to say hi, but their father suddenly appeared from the kitchen. He walked right by Erin and headed straight for Jen, his arms wide open. Jen launched herself into his embrace, and they stood there for a long moment, Jen’s shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Erin watched them with something like longing and pain, and her father’s eyes met hers for a moment of concern before flickering away.
After Jen’s sobbing seemed to stop, he held her out with his hands on her shoulders, looking her up and down. “Well, you look terrible. I was expecting that.”
Jen laughed weakly, wiping her teary eyes. “Gee, thanks, Dad.”
“But you’re okay. That’s all I can ask. You really are okay, aren’t you, Jenny?”
She sighed. “I will be, Dad. I just feel so stupid. It’s my own fault.”
He tsked. “Somehow I doubt that. He just didn’t know a good thing when he found it—that’s my guess.”
Jen shrugged.
Their father let go of her shoulders and clapped his hands once before rubbing them together. “Well, dinner will be ready in about an hour. Will brought some lovely wines for all of us to try. Go grab a glass in the living room, and he’ll tell you all about them.”
Jen gave him a brave smile. “Okay, Dad.”
Erin turned to follow her, and her father touched her sleeve. “Just a minute, Erin. I want to talk to you.”
Both Erin and Jen turned toward him, surprised. He hadn’t voluntarily talked to Erin in years.
“Oh?” Erin asked.
“Yes. Please. In the kitchen, if you don’t mind.”
Erin and Jen looked at each other, and Erin couldn’t help but widen her eyes to show her panic. Jen shrugged again and motioned for her to go, and Erin sighed, turning toward her father again.
“Sure, Dad. Let’s talk.”
Normally at a large gathering like this, their father commandeered people to work on some part of his culinary masterpieces. He’d clearly sent several people out of the kitchen, as abandoned projects in varying degrees of completion lay on several of the countertops around the room. Erin and her father were completely alone.
Her father raised his eyebrows, clearly amused with her confusion. He indicated an open bottle of wine on the counter, and Erin nodded. He poured them both a small glass, and Erin gulped hers down to cover her nerves.
Her father cleared his throat. “I know you find this strange, Erin. I do, too. But I need to talk to you about a couple of things. Can we put our differences aside for the time being?”
A retort rose to Erin’s lips, but she bit down on her anger and nodded.
Some tension dropped from his shoulders as he visibly relaxed. “Thank you,” he said. He set his glass down and rubbed his eyes, sighing. When he dropped his hands again, his expression had softened a little. “First of all, tell me. How is Jen, really? Lydia is so vague. I need the truth.”
Erin shook her head. “She’s not very good, Dad. Not good at all.”
His eyebrows lowered. “That’s what I thought. She looks terrible. I knew she was dating someone—she’d told me as much—and judging from her last choice, I was afraid something like this might happen, but she seemed happy with him, content even. Do you know what happened? I know he left for Boston, but I don’t know the details.”
Erin shrugged. “It was bad luck, really. He is a nice man—or was, I guess. I really thought he cared for her. He wasn’t like Jacob, or any of the other guys Jen’s dated. I think Charlie was in love with her. But it couldn’t last—not without one of them changing cities. I guess it was too soon to think about something like that, and I suppose Charlie just decided to cut his losses rather than try to make something long-distance happen.”
“So he’s a fool?”
Erin shook her head and then shrugged again. “I don’t know. Maybe. I liked him a lot, Dad, and even though he’s hurt her, it’s hard to hate him entirely. It was just a terrible situation, in the end.”
They wer
e quiet for a while. Her father looked troubled and upset, and for a moment, Erin had a flash of true affection for him. It was hard to resent anyone who loved Jen like he did. He seemed almost as upset as she was.
Finally he sighed and shook his head. “Another tragedy for Jen, I guess. She really can pick them.”
They finished their wine, and as the awkward silence dragged out, Erin had an urge to run from the room as quickly as she could. This was as close to civil as the two of them had been in a long time, and she was afraid something would happen to ruin the feeling if she stayed longer.
Unable to stand the suspense anymore, she said, “Is that all you wanted to talk about?”
He frowned, his eyebrows knit with annoyance, but bit back a retort. It was the first time in a long time he’d even tried to hold his tongue.
“Not entirely. I wanted to discuss one other thing. I would have brought it up if you weren’t so damn impatient, Erin.”
He turned and rummaged around in a nearby drawer before pulling out a newspaper. Erin knew exactly what he was going to show her before he did: the full-page spread on their brewery from a couple of weeks ago. He held it up briefly before setting it aside.
“I wanted to talk to you about your business,” he said.
Erin stiffened with anxiety and defensiveness. Every time they’d talked about the brewery in the past, the conversation had devolved into, at best, strong words and, at worst, a shouting match. The first time they’d argued about it, when she and Jen had finally gotten the business loan to open, he’d berated her for planning to open a brewery in a saturated market. He’d been convinced they’d go under inside a year. If Erin was honest with herself, part of the reason she was so desperate to keep her brewery open was to prove her father wrong. If they ended up folding, he’d be right, and he’d never give her the benefit of the doubt again. Knowing him, he’d likely lord it over her the rest of his life, taking every opportunity to remind her of her mistakes. They’d argued over the years since about other things related to the business, chief of which was that BSB was not a restaurant, just a taproom. He was convinced their business would be stronger if they sold food as well.
“What about it?” She was unable to keep a note of petulance from her tone.
Her father sighed before frowning deeply. “Look, maybe I deserve that tone, Erin, but could you hear me out for once before getting your back up?”
Erin made herself relax and nodded.
He tapped the newspaper article. “This is a really big deal. I asked some of my own brewery friends about Western States, and they told me simply getting invited is a major accomplishment. When I read this a couple of weeks ago, I could hardly believe it.”
“So why didn’t you say anything about it? Before now, I mean.”
He shook his head. “I have no excuse, Erin. I should have called you right away to congratulate you—I know that.” He paused, clearly troubled. “I had to think about it for a while to, uh, ‘get my head out of my ass,’ as your sister Lydia put it.”
“Lydia was talking to you about this?”
He nodded. “She’s the one that showed me the article. No matter how she acts, she’s really proud of you.” He paused and swallowed. “And so am I.”
Erin was floored. Her father, in basically all of the years since her young adulthood, had never once told her he was proud of her. Not after she made team captainships in her high school sports teams, not after she was elected as her senior class president, and not after her countless scholarships and awards in college. The words had never crossed his lips until now.
Stunned, she didn’t know what to say. She opened her mouth, but only a kind of croak came out. Her father was grinning at her, clearly amused, and then he did the unthinkable: he opened his arms wide for a hug. Despite all the pain and anger between them over the last twenty years, Erin didn’t hesitate. She stepped into his embrace and hugged him.
A few moments later, when they stepped apart, both had red, teary eyes, and they shared an embarrassed grin. Her father poured them another glass of wine, and they drank it in quiet companionship. Erin was staring into space, still stunned, when she suddenly realized her father was looking at her. She met his eyes and gave him her first genuine smile in years. He smiled and touched her arm again.
“Can we put some of this,” he gestured between them, “to rest now, Erin? I’m starting to become an old man, and being old makes you second-guess some of your decisions, especially the bad ones. I’ve been pig-headed over the years, and I know that you are too—that’s part of why I’ve been so hard on you. You’re just like me.”
She nodded, still flushed with happy surprise.
“And while I may never agree with your lifestyle choices—”
She held up a hand to cut him off. “Dad, please. We were doing so well. Let’s stop while we’re ahead.”
He shrugged. “Okay. Well, we may never see eye-to-eye on everything, but I want to be part of your life again, Éire, in some small way, before it’s too late.”
Erin’s eyes welled up with emotion. Her father hadn’t called her Éire since the days before they’d started fighting all the time. It had been his pet name for her during childhood. His parents were both Irish immigrants, and when Erin had started getting interested in Irish history, he’d explained that she’d been named after their ancestral land. Then, sometime in middle school, he’d started calling her by her real name, right around the time they’d cooled toward each other. She’d been so miffed, she refused to let anyone call her by her nickname and started insisting on Erin.
“I’d like that too, Dad. I really would.”
They hugged again, and when they moved apart, Erin felt warm in every part of her body. She hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted a conversation like this—or, even if she had, she’d never admitted it to herself. She’d been hurt for too long to even dream of it.
He was smiling when they pulled apart, and he kept his hands on her shoulders. “So that’s that for now. We can talk again soon. I have some ideas for your brewery that I want to share with you, and maybe, for once, we can have a civil conversation about it. But not today. Today is for eating.”
Erin laughed. “Okay, Dad. I’ll try to hear you out. I can’t promise to agree with you, but I’ll try to listen. Just call me this weekend, and we’ll set something up.”
“Sounds good.”
Afraid she might start crying again, Erin left the kitchen quickly and went outside for a moment to calm down. Her eyes and face felt hot and tight, and the cool November air was wonderfully refreshing. She took a few deep, shuddering breaths before she went inside to find Jen.
Jen and their Aunt Eddie were sitting next to the fireplace, deep in conversation. Eddie was their only living relative on their mother’s side, and a favorite of all of her nieces. Aunt Eddie and their father had always been fond of each other, so it only made sense that he would keep inviting her for holidays even after their mother died. Seeing her there next to Jen, Erin was struck by her strong resemblance to their mother, and Erin felt that same old sick tightening in her chest at the memory of her loss. Their mother had died quickly and unexpectedly of breast cancer just shy of her sixtieth birthday. No one in the family had dealt with it very well then or since.
For one thing, without her mother’s calming, peace-making presence, Erin and her father had been free to shout at each other as long as they wanted, driving them even further apart over the years. Lydia’s sense of responsibility had disappeared at about the same time, and Erin had become somewhat more reserved in her affections with everyone. Their father, on the other hand, had become bitter and unforgiving, more so than ever. Seeing their aunt always brought back all that initial pain. Erin loved their aunt, deeply, but it was always hard to see her after an absence; for a moment, it was like seeing her mother again.
After dodging through and greeting several groups of people standing and sitting in the living room, Erin joined her sister and aunt, draggi
ng a little ottoman close to them. Aunt Eddie got to her feet and gave her a hug before they both sat down.
Jen was looking at Erin critically, clearly seeing the tell-tale signs of crying, but Erin shook her head and gave her a reassuring smile. They’d talk about her conversation with their father later.
Aunt Eddie either didn’t catch this exchange or pretended not to. She was grinning, her face a little red from the wine she was drinking.
“It’s so lovely to see you, my dear.” Like her face, Aunt Eddie’s voice was almost identical to their mother’s. Eddie and their mother had grown up being mistaken for each other in person and on the phone the entire time they lived together.
“It’s good to see you, too, Eddie. It’s been too long.”
“Well, I was here last Easter, but you weren’t. And the Christmas before that. If I hadn’t come to the brewery when I was here for Thanksgiving last year, I’m not sure I would have seen you at all!”
Erin sighed. “I know. I’m sorry, Eddie. You know how it is with me and Dad.”
She tutted and shook her head. “I do, honey, but I wish the two of you would work it out one of these days. I know you’re both stubborn, but he’s not getting any younger.”
“We’re trying now, Eddie. I promise.”
She smiled. “Good. Maybe you girls and your father and I can finally have a meal just the five of us for once. It’s always like Grand Central Station when I visit. I get the impression he invites all of these people here to act as a buffer.”
Pride and Porters Page 13
