by Lori Leger
Tiffany couldn’t help but watch in fascination as Red walked away from her, his arms swinging in rhythm to his long easy strides. Her mouth watered at the sight of the broad back filling out his shirt so completely, tapering down the length of long waist. She dropped her gaze even further to the firm butt and muscular thighs covered in just tight enough black jeans.
Red opened the door to two women, followed by whom she assumed were their husbands and children. Recognizing her old college buddies, Tiffany approached the group.
Melissa screamed when she saw Tiffany then grabbed her in a hug. “What are you doing here? Bailey, do you remember her?”
The second woman beamed up at her. “Sure, I do, we did some partying together my freshman year. Your hair is different but you look wonderful.” She took her turn hugging Tiffany. “I didn’t expect to see you here. If I’d have known you were coming, I would have dug out the old college scrapbook and brought it.”
Red cleared his throat. “Just what kind of reminiscing are you talking about?”
“Well, I can’t give away all our secrets, big brother. Suffice it to say the three of us had a lot of fun that year.”
Red cocked an eyebrow in Tiffany’s direction. “I’d kind of like to see that scrapbook one of these days.”
“Bailey, don’t you dare give that man any incriminating evidence against me,” Tiffany said, pointing up at him.
“I won’t,” Bailey said, laughing. “I couldn’t believe it when he told me you’d worked on Jackson’s leg.”
“Sure did, and he’s the reason I’m here, actually,” Tiffany said, nodding in Jackson’s direction. “My favorite patient felt sorry for me and invited me to this shindig. I had no idea I’d be seeing any of you here.” She aimed her gaze at Red. “It came as a complete surprise.”
Red shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. “I only found out a few minutes before she got here that Jackson had invited her. If I’d known, I would have let you girls know sooner.”
After introductions were made to their husbands, Tiffany’s gaze followed their two seven year old daughters as they ran off to meet their seldom seen relatives. “Your girls look enough alike to be sisters instead of cousins.” Both girls had long curly auburn hair like their moms, and what Tiffany realized must be the trademark blue eyes of the McAllister clan. As several more grandchildren walked into the room, Tiffany turned to Bailey again. “Is there any member of this family that doesn’t have those gorgeous blue eyes?”
Bailey shook her head and grinned. “Not yet, but one day I hope to have a child with big brown eyes like my husband’s.”
The statement seemed to jar Red’s memory. “Hey sis,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I want to see if you can figure out who this little girl belongs to.” He pulled up the pictures and video he’d taken of Carrie’s granddaughter, Ava, when Jackson was still in the hospital.
Bailey groaned as she watched the video of Ava telling her mom she was going to the hospital to see Jackson. “You see? Isn’t she precious with those big brown eyes? Wait, isn’t her mom one of Carrie’s twins?”
“Yep,” Red agreed. “That’s Lauren and her little girl, Ava Grace. She looks like Shirley Temple with all those curls. She’s adorable, and talk about a character.”
Tiffany watched the video again, smiling as she watched Ava kiss Red on the face and wave to her mama. She wasn’t watching the child as much as she was watching Red’s reaction to her. She wanted children so badly, but Tanner’s view was, one son to carry on the family name, and he’d be done with it, with very little part in raising the child. That wasn’t her idea of the kind of family she wanted.
Red spoke, making her jump slightly at the nearness of his voice as he looked over her shoulder. “I’ve always had this thing for girls with big brown eyes and a head full of curls.”
Tiffany’s gaze clashed with his, and just for a moment she wondered if he was talking about the child in the video.
Chapter 3
The doorbell rang and Red walked over to open it for his guests. Jackson’s Uncle Bill, his new wife, Gwen, and their daughter, Alyssa, all piled inside.
“Hey, it’s about time you three showed. I was beginning to wonder what happened to you,” Red told them.
Bill Broussard smiled and looked around at the place he’d sold to Red. “Does it feel like home yet?”
“Today it does, with the family all here. How about yours?”
“Just like you, any place I’m with my family feels like home.” Bill walked to the kitchen doorway to address Tiffany. “I didn’t expect to see you here, but it sure is a pleasant surprise. Happy Thanksgiving, Tiffany.”
“You too, Bill. How’ve you been?”
“Never better.” He smiled as his gaze followed Gwen and Alyssa. “I’ve got my wife, my brand new step-daughter, and maybe one day we’ll add one or two.”
The crowd inside the home suddenly got a lot louder with several different conversations going on at one time. Tiffany laughed as Jackson, once again, took the snapshot of the ultrasound out of his pocket to show it off to anyone who’d look. She felt herself blushing as Red raised his head from another conversation to smile at her.
Overwhelmed by the unaccustomed chaos of this much family, she escaped out to the patio to catch her breath. She closed the door on the noise, and crossed her arms to ward off a chill. The humidity had dropped overnight, leaving brisk, dry air in its wake. She closed her eyes, inhaling the sweet, woodsy scent of the oak logs burning in Red’s fireplace. She loved the smell, had yearned for a fireplace for years. Unfortunately, she and Tanner disagreed when it came to preferences in apartment living. It was a far more common occurrence for them to disagree than agree on any matter.
The act of running her hands through her straight blond hair gently reminded her of one more reason to resent Tanner. She could still hear Red as he spoke about girls with brown eyes and curly hair. There’s no way he could know—could he? Surely, it was only wishful thinking on her part. Tiffany pushed the thought away as quickly as it came up. She was engaged to Tanner, and this infatuation with Red was only her curiosity manifesting itself in the form of temporary physical attraction. She’d get over it.
She approached a large building lined with windows at the end of the patio. Tiffany peered through a window, but couldn’t see anything. She tested the doorknob, was slightly surprised when it turned in her hand. She nudged the door open and peeked inside, gasping in appreciation at the huge indoor swimming pool looming before her. She walked over, squatting to dip her hand in the water.
“It’s heated,” said a woman’s voice from behind her.
Tiffany swiveled to see Vivienne McAllister standing at one of the windows. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” She stood, shaking off the water.
Vivienne smiled and handed her a towel. “I guess this is what people do when they have more money than they know what to do with. I’ve never had that particular affliction,” Vivienne answered, not sounding particularly upset about it.
Tiffany shrugged. “I was raised with money.”
“You don’t seem all that pleased about it.”
“I don’t mind having it, but I’d rather work for what I have, not marry into it like my mother and grandmother did.”
“Red told me you have a brother, is he a surgeon also?”
“No ma’am, an attorney.”
“A doctor and a lawyer…your parents must be so proud.”
Tiffany gazed down at Vivienne McAllister, blinking back tears that suddenly surfaced. “Red said the same thing about three months ago,” she murmured.
Vivienne placed a hand on her arm. “What’s wrong, dear?”
“Nothing.” Tiffany brushed away the tears that broke free before giving in to the sense of trust radiating from Red’s mother. “Everything,” she said, as her face crumpled.
Vivienne nodded and led her to a comfy looking glider for two. “Sit,” she ordered before dropping down beside h
er. “Now talk to me.”
Tiffany took one shaky breath before starting. “I’m engaged to a man I don’t love. My parents want me to marry him because his family has money.”
“Surely, you’re intelligent enough to know that money can’t replace happiness, Tiffany.”
“I know that,” she said, sniffling. “My mother wants me to stop practicing—just get married, pop out a couple of children and stay home, while my cheating husband does whatever he wants. I don’t think I can live like that.”
“And you shouldn’t have to,” Vivienne agreed.
“I know all men cheat, but...”
“Oh, hold it right there, honey. Not all men,” Vivienne interrupted. “If your fiancé cheats, maybe it’s time to cut him loose. Or at least let him know you won’t put up with it anymore. Why should he stop if you won’t make him?”
“You obviously don’t know Tanner.”
Vivienne nodded. “I’ve heard of him. And as for your mother—hasn’t she heard of maternity leave? I was a stay at home mother and I loved it, but my husband and I are very proud of our daughters who handle careers and families. You’re too talented of a surgeon to walk away from that.”
Tiffany shook her head. “You make it sound so simple, but I have a difficult time standing up to my parents.”
Vivienne chuckled. “I’ve seen the handprint you left on my son’s face. You’re obviously stronger than you think.”
Tiffany looked mortified. “You know about that?”
“Yes, but I’d love to hear your version of the story.”
Tiffany filled Vivienne in on how Red had taken his sweet time to tell her about Tanner’s broken nose. “Red just wanted him to suffer. Of course, if he’d told me that Tanner had come on to Annie, I wouldn’t have slapped him.” Tiffany clenched both her hands into fists. “The thing is, I have all this pent up resentment for Tanner, you know?”
“I’ll know if you tell me.”
She looked at Vivienne. “I’m so angry about my hair.”
“What about your hair, Tiffany? You have lovely hair. It’s very...polished...sophisticated.”
Tiffany shook her head. “It’s not me. I do this for Tanner. He’s got this idea that any woman who doesn’t have straight, blonde hair is beneath him. So, I go every two weeks to have my roots done, and I waste an hour every morning straightening my hair. And I resent it...and him...the entire time I’m doing it. It’s sad that the man I’m supposed to marry doesn’t think I’m good enough the way I am.”
“Are you telling me you have naturally, curly hair?” Vivienne asked in astonishment.
“Yes ma’am—mousy brown, naturally curly hair,” she said. She pointed with both hands to her hair. “This is not me.”
Vivienne shook her head. “Why would you go to so much trouble for a man who shows so little respect for you?”
Tiffany shrugged. “I thought if I tried my hardest, one day we could find a way to be happy with each other. You know, he even tried to convince me to wear blue tinted contacts once to change the color of my eyes. I don’t even need contacts.”
“Blonde hair and blue eyes—Who does he think he is, Hitler?” Vivienne said, sounding disgusted. “Find yourself, Tiffany. Not who anyone else wants you to be, but the person you’re meant to be. If the people who supposedly love you can’t accept that, then c’est la vie—that’s life.”
“Should I call off my engagement?” Tiffany asked her.
Vivienne raised her hands. “I can’t tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. I don’t know Tanner. Do you think he’d change?”
Tiffany sighed. “I think even if he could, it’s too late. I’d never be able to trust him.”
“Well, I’m old enough to know that time is precious, dear. It’s foolish to waste it on something that can’t be.”
Tiffany shook her head. “But my parents...”
“They’ll accept it, eventually. I know this because my mother tried to marry me off to another man. Her ‘good catch’ was Marshall Baker. Good looking, conceited, and a perfectly awful dancer. But worse by far, was the fact that he loved flaunting his wealth. I’ve never been impressed by money.”
“I’m not either, Mrs. Vivienne.”
“Marshall asked me to go to a dance in town and I accepted because no one else asked me. I was seventeen years old, and I’ll never forget that night. Marshall had gone outside with his buddies, and there I sat on a bench with my shoes off. When Pete McAllister walked up and asked me to dance, I nearly turned him down because Marshall had been stepping on my feet all night long. Pete and I were both raised in the same small town so I knew who he was, but he was four years older and I’d never been that near him. I looked up into those blue eyes as he held his hand out to me. He said, ‘Come on, Vivi, give me a chance. I won’t hurt you, and I promise not to step on your toes.’ It turned out he was a wonderful dancer, and by the end of the song, I was smitten.”
“What song was it?”
“All I Have to Do is Dream by the Everly Brothers. He told me later that he’d waited all night long for Marshall to leave me alone. As soon as he did, Pete went to the guy playing the records and paid him two dollars to play that song. Two bucks was a pretty good tip back then.”
“That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” Tiffany said.
“It is, isn’t it? You see, Pete used to come to our farm to help my dad, because I didn’t have any brothers. One day dad asked him his opinion of Marshall Baker and Pete said he didn’t like him much. Dad told him, “You know, I’d sure hate to see my Vivi end up with him just because you’re too scared to do anything about it.” Up until then Pete thought my father wanted me with Marshall.”
“How did your mother take the news?”
“Oh, she fussed awhile then let it go. She knew the McAllister’s were good people. She just didn’t want to see me struggle as a farmer’s wife like she had. The first time I ever went to Pete’s house, and I saw how his parents treated each other, I knew he’d be a wonderful husband. Those old people were crazy about each other. That’s just how Pete and I feel. I told all my children never to settle for less, and so far, they’ve chosen well.” She smiled and placed her hand over Tiffany’s. “Are you feeling better now?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m okay,” Tiffany answered.
“Good, I’m getting hungry and it’s time to eat.”
They were talking amiably as they re-entered the kitchen. Tiffany met Red’s gaze as he walked over to meet them.
“Where’d you two go off to?” he asked.
“We had to check out that pool of yours, son. It’s impressive, I must say,” Vivienne said.
“It is, isn’t it? I swim every day now, when my other pool only got used half the year.”
“Jackson told me once that you’d built the pool at your last home,” Tiffany said. “Is it true?”
“It is…I like to relieve stress by working with my hands.”
“I like to garden and run,” Tiffany said, watching his brow lift as though he were shocked at her admission.
“You’re a jogger?” Red asked.
“I don’t jog, I run. I have a lot of stress in my life.”
“So, you run away from it?” he commented.
She eyed him warily. “I wouldn’t say that.”
Vivienne cleared her throat. “I’m starving; is it time to eat?” She took Tiffany’s arm and whisked her away from Red, but not before Tiffany saw her aim a glare in her son’s direction.
<>
Within seconds, everyone broke into action, setting the massive dining room table Red had purchased for family gatherings such as this one. Between the table, breakfast table, and island, he had seating for thirty people. Red waited for his sisters to serve and seat the children first, before asking his dad to give the blessing.
He watched Tiffany bow her head in silent prayer, slightly surprised when she crossed herself afterwards. Tiffany’s Catholic? He smiled, thinking that was one less thing to
worry about.
As the formal dining table filled with adults, Red realized he was lacking one chair. He grabbed one from the breakfast table and placed it between his mom and Tiffany, winking at her curious look. “You know—he said, “—this table looked plenty big enough in the furniture store.”
Tiffany gave a low chuckle. “My parents throw dinner parties all the time and I think their table only seats sixteen.”
“What if someone shows up unexpectedly?” Red asked.
She plastered an appalled look on her face. “That doesn’t happen at those kinds of dinner parties.”
Red laughed. “I guess not. Did you go to many of them?”
“My brother and I were forced to attend many as we got older. They weren’t much fun, I assure you.”
He leaned close to her. “And…are you having fun today?”
“I’m beginning to,” she said, with a shy smile.
“Good.”
Tiffany served herself and took a bite of turkey. “Who baked the bird, Red? It’s perfect.”
“That would be me,” Red told her.
“You cook?” she asked.
Red gazed at her over his fork. “You seem surprised. What, I’m not the Neanderthal you thought I was, Tiffy?”
Her words belied her sugary sweet tone. “If you call me that again I might have to hurt you.”
He gave her a sly smile. “I’d like to see you try.”
“You know, someone just told me I’m a lot tougher than I look,” she said, sending his mother a secretive smile before returning her gaze to his.
“I don’t doubt that for one bit, but I’d still like to see you try.” Red forced his gaze from her, afraid she’d be able to see just how serious he was.
Red and his guests spent the next forty-five minutes dining on the delicious array of foods as laughter and discussions about everything from politics to sports filled the air.
“Do you watch football?” Red asked her.
“Of course I watch football,” she replied.
“But when the Saints play the Cowboys—do you pull for Dallas?” Conversation came to a dead stop as all heads turned toward her.
