Drew grinned. “I’m sure it’s going to be great, but I really can’t stay. Mom’s in the car waiting.”
“Well, that will never do.” Mama scurried out the door, and moments later Corinne entered.
Before long the two women were thick as thieves in the kitchen, serving up a huge bowl of steamy ravioli and pulling hot, buttery garlic twists from the oven. Drew and I could hardly get a word in edgewise as they chatted, Corinne going on and on about Mama’s new look. Not that I cared to speak. Something about the smell of garlic on that hot bread nearly rendered me speechless.
We settled in at the table, and my father led the way with a heartfelt prayer. It wasn’t quite the same as Twila’s prayer, but close. Well, as close as Michael McDermott could come, anyway. After he prayed, Mama passed the ravioli and he gave it a funny look, but he scooped some onto his plate.
“Guess I’d better give this a shot if I want to go on living with the prettiest woman on the island.” He gave Mama a wink, and we all held our breath as he took a bite of the ravioli. His eyes widened. “What do you call this stuff again?”
“Ravioli,” we all said in unison.
“Remarkable.” He took another bite. “You’re sure it wasn’t invented by an Irishman?”
“Very sure,” I said, laughing. “Do you like it?”
“I’m ashamed to admit that I do. Can’t believe I’ve been missing out all these years.” He pointed to the serving bowl. “Pass that back over here. Didn’t take a big enough serving.”
This, of course, made my mother’s night. She lit into a fun conversation about the Food Network, and before long we were all talking about Rosa and Laz’s show, Mama going on and on about her favorite episodes. She somehow convinced my father to try several other Italian foods over the upcoming weeks, including her favorite, fettuccine Alfredo. Would wonders never cease?
We laughed and talked all the way through dinner. As I glanced across the table at Drew, as I took in the joy on his mother’s face, I flashed back to that day at Bella’s house. Seated around her table with so many people gathered around her, I’d felt envious. Now I was living the same life. Okay, a similar life. With ravioli on the plate, no less.
For some reason, this got me tickled. I had to laugh.
“What’s up, Shutter Speed?” my dad asked, giving me a funny glance. “You okay?”
“More than okay, actually.” I took Drew’s hand and gave it a squeeze under the table. He squeezed back, a sure sign that he was enjoying the evening too.
At ten minutes till seven, my father dabbed his mouth, swallowed down the last of his glass of tea, and rose. “Better hurry.”
“Hurry?” Mama moved the dirty dishes to the kitchen.
“Well, sure. That stupid dancing show is on in a minute or two.”
The whole room grew silent, and we all stared at him.
“Since when do you care about Dancing with the Stars?” I asked.
“Who said I cared? Just curious, that’s all. Wondering what Brock Benson is going to do tonight. He got the first ten of the season last week, you know.”
“Right.” I could hardly believe my father had taken note of that.
It didn’t take much to convince Corinne and Drew to stay to watch the show, especially with my father on board.
“I’ve been a fan of Brock Benson’s ever since Drew photographed his wedding.” Corinne dabbed her lips with her napkin. “Was there ever a more handsome man in the world?”
“Tell me about it.” Mama fanned herself, and my father rolled his eyes.
Instead of clearing the table, Mama and Corinne went straight to the living room, pausing only long enough for my mother to show off a new picture of my sister’s baby girl.
I rose and began to put the dishes in the kitchen sink. Drew followed me. When we found ourselves alone in the kitchen, he slid his arms around my waist and pulled me close. After giving me a gentle kiss on the forehead, he whispered, “I’ve been dying to do that all night.”
“I’ve been dying for you to do that all night,” I countered, then gave him a kiss on the lips, guaranteed to tide us over until after the show.
By now the sound of our parents’ voices rang out from the living room. I popped my head through the door and offered to make coffee. This got a nod from Mama, but her eyes never left the TV.
Minutes later, coffee cups in hand, Drew and I joined them. I took a different place on the loveseat than usual, wanting to give him the better spot. He took it and gave me a wink. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of my father as he gave us both a sideways glance. No doubt he would have some questions about my sudden affinity for a Kincaid. I didn’t mind, though. Couldn’t wait to tell him, in fact.
Settling into my spot, I glanced at the television in time to see Brock coming down the steps with Cheryl on his arm. They were both dressed as pirates. Behind them, the speed skater made his entrance along with his partner, a pretty blonde.
My dad groaned. “For the life of me, I don’t understand why that skater is still on there. He’s lousy. He fell flat on his face last week and got the lowest scores in the competition.”
We all turned to face my dad. He shrugged and said, “What?”
“You’ve actually been watching, then?” my mama asked.
“Of course not.” He reached for his newspaper and opened it. “You all know I wouldn’t be caught dead watching a dancing show.”
“Mm-hmm.” I laughed.
“So what’s on the agenda for tonight?” Corinne asked. “Why is Brock in a pirate costume?”
“I’m not sure. I did hear that he and Cheryl are starting with the Viennese waltz,” I said. “Must be pirate themed, I guess.”
“Ooh, the waltz.” My mother sighed. “I just love a good waltz.”
“You do?” My father looked amused by this.
“Mm-hmm. And I’m sure Brock will do a great job. He’s so—”
“Dreamy,” Corinne interjected, then sighed. “I know. I agree.”
Drew let out a grunt and focused on the television.
Brock and Cheryl’s lead-in package ran, focusing on their antics in the rehearsal room and talking about their characters.
“How cool is that?” I said after hearing the details. “They’re reviving Brock’s character from his most famous movie, The Pirate’s Lady.”
Mama released an exaggerated sigh. “That’s my favorite movie of all time. He played Jean Luc Dumont, the pirate we all loved to hate.”
“I remember that one,” Corinne said. “The whole thing was sort of a play on the old Taming of the Shrew theme. He looked great in his pirate costume then, and he looks just as great now.”
“Wait.” My father put the newspaper down. “You’re telling me that’s the same guy from all of those pirate movies?”
“Well, of course, Dad. I thought you knew that.”
My father shook his head. “I guess I do see the resemblance.”
“He could capture me and take me aboard the ship, and I wouldn’t breathe a word of argument.” Corinne released a contented sigh.
Brock and Cheryl took their places center stage, and the camera zoomed in on his face.
I chose that moment to drop my bombshell. “Dad. Mama. There’s something I need to tell you.”
“What’s that, Hannah?” Mama didn’t look away from the television.
“Brock Benson.” I pointed at the screen as the music for their dance began. “He’s coming here.”
“What?” Mama paled, and Corinne nearly dropped her cup of coffee.
“Here, to our house?” Mama reached for the remote and paused the television show midstream.
“Looking for a new dance partner?” my father asked.
“No. He’s coming to serve as grand marshal at the Dickens parade.”
“Oh my goodness.” Mama fanned herself. “Well, I read in the paper that we had a special guest star coming to lead the parade, but I never guessed it would be Brock Benson.”
“How do you know this?” My father’s gaze narrowed.
“Well, I’m not at liberty to say.” I grinned. “But you can trust me on this. Brock is coming. And I’m going to do my best to get us a private audience with him.”
At this news, I thought my poor mama was going to have heart palpitations. She began to fan herself, then rose and paced the room, going on and on about how she’d colored her hair just in time.
“Only one thing I can’t figure out,” Corinne said. “If he makes it through this week of Dancing with the Stars, how can he be in two places at once?”
“Yeah, how does that work?” my dad asked.
“I’m sure he’ll make it past this week, and if he does it’s likely he’ll be looking for a place to rehearse while he’s here.”
“You mean he might bring his dance partner with him?” My father seemed to like this idea.
“Who knows? I’m sure his wife will be with him.”
“Erin’s great,” Drew said. “You’re going to love her.”
“I’ve seen her pictures in the tabloids,” I said. “And I’ve followed her character on Stars Collide. But what’s she like in person?”
He grinned. “She’s very . . . bubbly. Fun. One of those overly dramatic types, but in a good way. They seem like a good match.”
Funny. As I heard the words “a good match,” I realized I’d finally met mine.
“Erin and Brock are both interested in helping people in need. Unlike most Hollywood celebrities, they focus less on politics and they’re both people of faith. No doubt about that.”
Wow. Made me want to meet Brock even more.
But first we needed to watch him dance the waltz. Mama grabbed the remote and pressed Play. Soon all of the ladies were sighing and the men were rolling their eyes.
The rest of the show passed in record time. When the final dancer took the stage, my cell phone rang. I reached for it, surprised to see Bella’s number. My heart sailed to my throat as I anticipated what she might say. Just as quickly, I calmed down. I thought about Joshua at Ai and got a visual of Twila praying the house down earlier today. With a woman like that on my team, I could face any news Bella might have for me.
Drew gave me an “everything okay?” look as I scooted out of the room, and I nodded to reassure him. Once inside the safety of the kitchen, I took the call.
“Hey, Hannah.” Bella’s voice rang out. “Glad I caught you. Sorry to call during Dancing with the Stars. I know it’s a mortal sin.”
“Actually, I believe it’s a cardinal sin, but I don’t suppose that matters.” I chuckled, relieving the tension between us.
“Just wanted you to know that I called our attorney.”
“You . . . you what?”
“I called our attorney. Actually, he’s my second cousin twice removed. But having a good attorney comes in handy during situations like this. Just wanted you to know that you were right. Sierra and her publicist don’t have a leg to stand on. So don’t sign the addendum. Stick with the original and we’ll move forward, no matter what they threaten to do. If George kicks back on this, I’ll get the attorney involved. But I doubt I’ll have to do that.”
Relief trickled through me, and I suddenly felt as if I’d lost twenty pounds—ten from each shoulder.
“Are you . . . are you mad at me?” I asked. “I never meant to cause any trouble, I promise you.”
“Of course not.” She paused. “I’ll admit, I kind of panicked when I thought about what George might do. He’s pretty intimidating. But I know Sierra better than that. She’s a great girl.”
“Humph.” Might be better not to chime in here.
“No, really. She’s a diva for sure. And a little flighty too. But I’m telling you, the reason she’s been so picky about the photos is because she listens too much to what George has to say. All it took was a phone call to Sierra to straighten this whole thing out. Once she figured out what George was asking you to do, she changed the plan.”
“Really? Is she mad?”
“You worry too much about whether or not people are mad. She’s not, by the way. But I want you to know that they still plan to release the photos, only now they won’t say they were released against her will. It will all be done in the open, and you’ll be given credit for your photos, wherever they appear.”
“No one will think I went behind her back?”
“Not at all. And she’s fine with that.”
“You’re sure?”
“Definitely.” Bella sighed. “Hannah, the truth is, she’s so caught up in the wedding plans that she’s overwhelmed. That’s all.”
“Still . . .”
“She’s a bride, Hannah. Brides miss most of the details of everyday life when they’re in wedding-planning mode. I’ll tell you, a bride-to-be’s house could go up in flames and she would only think about one thing—making sure she didn’t lose her guest list. Or her gown. Or her shoes.” Bella laughed. “There’s just so much to keep up with. That’s why people hire me, so I can fret over that stuff for them.”
“You’ve worked with a few overwhelmed brides, I see.”
“More than a few. And I’ve handled my share of crises, but none that could’ve ended up in a courtroom—till now. Well, unless you count that time Brock and I ended up in jail, but that’s kind of an anomaly.”
“Thank goodness.” I grinned. “Because I thought for a while there that I might end up in some serious legal trouble if I signed that addendum.”
“You probably would have. Thank God you had the foresight not to sign.”
Indeed. I thanked God for that little detail as we ended the call. And as Drew and I said our goodbyes less than an hour later—our parents looking on—I thanked God for him as well. And for parents willing to change. And for ravioli. Basically, for every good thing the day had brought my way.
Minutes after saying good night, I headed up to my room and reached for my laptop, curious to glance at my email to see if George had ever responded. He hadn’t, but I saw a note from Jacquie Goldfarb. Weird. Signing onto Facebook, I sent her an instant message.
“I’m here now. What’s up?”
Took a minute to get a response, but she finally came back with, “Me. Having trouble sleeping tonight.”
I thought about my words before typing, “Aw, sorry.”
“You?” she typed in response.
“Just finished dinner with the family.” I fought the temptation to add, “And the guy I’m crazy about.”
She responded with “*sigh*.”
“Why the sigh?” I asked.
“Oh, just the mention of your family, that’s all. You might as well know, I was always so jealous of your family.”
I stared at the screen, blown away by what she’d written. I finally managed one word in response: “What?”
“You had the perfect life. A great family. Wonderful sisters.”
True. But she’d never hinted at being jealous of my life before. Why now?
“I was so jealous I couldn’t see straight.” She followed this with a smiley face, though I had a feeling she wasn’t smiling as she typed.
“Wait.” None of this made sense. “You were jealous of me?”
After you got every position I ever wanted and ended up with my date to the prom?
“Well, yeah, you had the one thing I didn’t—parents who loved you. And sisters. I had a mom who didn’t think anything I did was good enough, a dad who was away on business trips most of the time, and a brother who basically made my life miserable. So from where I was sitting, your life looked pretty ideal.”
She ended up signing off after that, but her words stuck with me as I dressed for bed. In all the years I’d known her, it had never occurred to me that Jacquie Goldfarb might be jealous of me. I could hardly comprehend such a thing. It stoo
d in direct opposition to everything I’d believed about the girl.
A mixture of emotions danced through me as I snuggled into bed. When I closed my eyes, I saw the day in little snatches, sort of like a string of photos. There was the shot of George’s email and the shiver that ran through me as I read it. There was the snapshot—a close-up—of Drew kissing me. Yum. Then the shot of driving to Bella’s. Next came the shot with me holding a spear in hand, pointed in victory as Twila prayed the house down. This was followed by a snapshot of the McDermott and Kincaid clans eating ravioli. An odd photo, indeed.
The last frame—well, that was the one that threw me a little. In that one, I saw a weary Jacquie Goldfarb, tearstained cheeks and sad countenance, seated at her computer, completely alone. Somehow, that last little glimpse put everything else in perspective.
21
Once in a Blue Moon
Blessed are those who can laugh at themselves,
For they will never cease to be amused.
Irish saying
I couldn’t remember spending a happier holiday season. Thanksgiving approached and I found more than usual to be thankful for. We celebrated with all of my sisters and their children, but we also invited Drew and his mother, who took to them with both joy and ease. My sisters gave me the thumbs-up once they got to know Drew. Deidre even called him my perfect match. So much for my years of envying my younger sisters for their picture-perfect lives. Looked like my days of “almosts” were truly behind me. Now, to conquer that wedding and move forward with my life and my business, apart from diva country singers.
The week after Thanksgiving, Galveston Island prepared herself for the annual Dickens on the Strand event. You couldn’t go anywhere on the island without feeling the Victorian celebration of Christmas. I always loved this time of year. So much so that I decided to do some over-the-top decorating at my studio so it would match the other businesses in the area.
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