Farraday Country

by Chris Keniston

  “Uh oh,” Eileen muttered.

  “Well, it wouldn’t have been such a big deal had I noticed before today. What a surprise I got when I opened the freezer this morning to pull out dinner and discovered that pretty much everything had come to a near thaw.”

  Eileen scanned the countertop from left to right. “That’s an awful lot of meat.”

  “Oh, this is nothing. I’ve got four meatloaves, two pork chop casseroles, and a Crockpot full of sausage and peppers stuffed in the fridge waiting for the new freezer’s arrival tomorrow. Y’all are now the proud owners of two roasted chickens and a king ranch casserole. I’ve pretty much been cooking all day. But steaks you have to eat when you grill them. Figured these’ll keep in the fridge overnight and we can do a barbecue tomorrow.”

  “Works for me.” Eileen nodded. “With only a few mouths to feed during the week, we have plenty more room in the extra freezer and fridge.”

  The sound of boot heels on the porch drew Eileen’s attention to the back door just as Finn shoved it open. “Man, do I need a shower tonight.”

  Eileen smothered a smile. “No one ever said running a ranch was a clean job.”

  “No,” Finn laughed from deep in his throat, “I don’t remember anybody promising me that one.”

  “Where’s your father?” Eileen had expected the man to come in on Finn’s heels.

  “We finished up a while ago. Dad came in to shower, I stayed to check one of the mares who’s having some trouble with one leg. Will have to have Adam take a look at it tomorrow.”

  Leaning forward, Catherine gave Eileen a kiss on the cheek. “I have to run. We invited the Bradys for dinner tonight.”

  “Give Stacey a hug for me.”

  “Will do.” Catherine hurried out the front door.

  Had Eileen really been so self absorbed she hadn’t noticed her niece-in-law’s car in front? The sound of the engine started up and Eileen swallowed hard. She was definitely out of sorts.

  “Looks like we’re having steak for dinner.” Showered and shaved, Sean walked into the kitchen, tucking his shirt into the back of his jeans.

  “Baked or scalloped potatoes?” she asked on her way to the pantry, glancing over her shoulder when she didn’t hear a response, surprised to see him at the sink silently staring at her.

  “Baked is fine. Easier.” He pulled a large platter from a side cupboard. “I’ll get started seasoning these steaks.”

  “Catherine told you what happened?”

  “Yeah, told her not to worry about them. I’d handle it as soon as I cleaned up.”

  Pausing to turn the oven on, Eileen dropped the sack of potatoes on the counter. “Hope everyone coming tomorrow is hungry. Want to mix up some of your—”

  “Marinade.” Sean nodded. “Good idea.”

  From the other side of the kitchen, he gathered his ingredients, setting them by the sink where Eileen washed, poked and oiled the potatoes.

  “Think I’ll boil up some extras and do potato salad for Sunday supper tomorrow.”

  “Everyone loves your potato salad.” Bottle of Worcestershire sauce in hand, Sean froze mid pour. “I love your potato salad.”

  Eileen blinked and felt the tug of a smile against her cheeks. “Thanks. I’ll make some extra.”

  “That would be nice.” This time his nod was accompanied by a lazy smile that made his eyes twinkle. “So, how’d your afternoon go?”

  “You mean after half the family descended en masse to spy on me? Fine.” Eileen carried the tray of potatoes to the oven. Loading them in one by one, she refrained from voicing out loud the reply different, confusing. “I was surprised to see you in town this morning.” She closed the oven door and turned on her heel, noticing his stiff stance.

  “Yeah.” He sighed and turned to face her. “About that.”

  “I should…” Their words tumbled over each other.

  Submitting to a muffled chuckle, “You first,” they both tried again.

  Eileen walked back to the sink, turned a faucet on to fill one of the larger pots. “I shouldn’t have run off this morning.”

  “And I should have minded my own business. It’s just…” He paused and leveled his gaze with hers. “So much of what happened after Grace was born is a blur in my mind. But I remember very clearly that he made you cry.”

  Stripping the potato of its peel in almost therapeutic monotony, Eileen stopped mid-motion. She had tried so hard back then to hide her feelings. Her pain. “You know, to this day I’m not sure what hurt more. Finding out I wasn’t worth waiting for or finding out how easily I could be replaced.”

  “Maybe because you’d be wrong on both counts.” He picked up the tray of marinating meat. “Your ex was a fool for not recognizing a woman like you is worth waiting forever for, and he’s an idiot for not having learned you are irreplaceable.” Sean turned away. “But it irks me to no end that he just waltzed back here after all these years.”

  Eileen returned to the rhythmic peeling of potatoes. “I’d like to think you’re right. and it irked the heck out of me last night too.” As far as the waltzing back into her life, she wasn’t sure what to think of that. Not sure at all. So many feelings, old and new, scrambled around inside her.

  “But,” Sean shoved the tray into the fridge and closed the door, “not this morning?”

  “I was here with you and Helen for the birth of every one of those boys. Dating Glenn didn’t stop me from taking time off to be here, being engaged to him didn’t stop me, and when I returned to Chicago he was always happily waiting. Never once complained about my being gone.”

  “But he never came with you. This morning was the first time I got a good look at the man.”

  “He hadn’t wanted to intrude.” At least, that’s what he’d always said whenever she’d invite him to come along for a visit, and she’d never questioned him. Her hands stopped. Why hadn’t she questioned him? Long before her sister’s tragedy he should have wanted to meet her sister. Her family.

  “Well,” Sean broke into her thoughts, “doesn’t seem to mind meeting us all now.” He pulled out a knife and began chopping potatoes beside her.

  “Thanks to Abbie and her fast finger texting to Jamie, the second Glenn met me at the door of the café he didn’t have much of a choice.”

  “I’m sorry.” Sean tossed the first potato into the pot of water.

  “Me, too. After all these years, you deserve to know what’s going on. I simply wasn’t up to any questions about Glenn or why I agreed to meet him.”

  Sean stopped chopping the next potato and tilted his head sideways to look at her. “Because you didn’t want me to know, or you didn’t have an answer yourself?”

  After raising a family together, she shouldn’t be so surprised this man knew her that well. “Touché.”

  “Do you have an answer now?” He continued chopping.

  “No, but at least I know why he wanted to talk to me.”

  Sean stifled a caustic scoff.

  “He wants me to sing with the band again.”

  ****

  “Sing?” There were many reasons Sean would expect a red-blooded man to want to spend time with Eileen. For years he’d been baffled why more of the men in town hadn’t come courting. But this, this put the hairs at the back of his neck on alert. “I see.”

  “For a television special.” She set another potato beside him.

  “Television?” Sean froze in place, the words startling him almost as much as the idea of an old flame swooping in and flying off with Eileen. Today was apparently going to be just filled with surprises. Though this last tidbit of information inched up the scale from startled to a tiny bit scared.

  The appearance of Glenn Baker was enough to set any man’s protective instincts on alert. Eileen was a beautiful, warmhearted, and very smart woman. Not a member of this family didn’t know that and more. Her backbone, her tenacity. But only he knew her dream. The one she gave up to raise his children.

  Her gaze remained
steady on the potato she was peeling. “A salute to jazz artists and songwriters.”

  The knots slowly tightening in his stomach loosened slightly at the lack of permanence in her words. “So it’s just a one time thing?”

  “Maybe.”

  He stopped chopping and reminded himself to breathe. “Maybe?”

  “Some of the original band members are still in the biz. Glenn sat in on a session with them once before tracking me down. They’ve been kicking around the idea of getting back together.”

  “And they want you?” Strangling the knife handle in a tight grip, he couldn’t bring himself to move.

  A grin eased across her face. “We were pretty damn good.”

  He couldn’t argue with that. He’d heard the album they’d made. Helen would play it over and over, sometimes rocking the kids to sleep to the tunes of their Aunt Eileen. Sean was actually a little surprised none of his sons remembered that. Or perhaps they didn’t know the sultry tunes came from their mama’s sister. “So, that’s what you want to do?”

  “Might be nice. At least once.” She faced him, holding the peeler up in the air. “Maybe, like talking to Glenn this morning, to find closure to the way everything ended, maybe it would be nice to see how the rest of the dream would’ve played out.”

  “I see.” He swallowed the uneasiness creeping up his throat. Her dream. Her gift. What right did he have to stand in the way of that?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “I always knew Aunt Eileen could sing a mean lullaby.” Finn set another plate on the table for Sunday supper. “But I had no idea.”

  “I don’t understand what the fuss is about.” Ethan followed behind Finn placing silverware. “Anytime she sang, anywhere, for any reason, people loved her.”

  Standing at the end of the table, Grace folded napkins. “True, but it’s one thing to have a lovely voice around friends and family. Performing in front of strangers, and for a living,” she clicked her tongue, “that’s a whole other ballgame.”

  Aunt Eileen carried in a large bowl of her special potato salad. “Y’all need to quit talking about me like I’m deaf or dead. I’m right here and Ethan is correct. Y’all are making way too big a deal of all this. So I sang for a living. Big deal.” But the truth was, to Eileen it had been a big deal. From the time she was old enough to listen to the radio with her friends, she knew she wanted to sing for a living. It was all that had mattered to her—until Grace.

  “What I want to know,” Finn placed the last dinner plate on the massive dining room table, “is why didn’t you ever tell us?”

  Smiling, Eileen shrugged one shoulder. “You didn’t ask. And Finn…”

  He looked up.

  “We need another setting. Glenn is joining us for supper.” She didn’t bother to wait to register the stunned expressions, she could hear jaws snapping shut and feel eyes glued to her back. She’d have to break the other surprise on them slow and easy. Then again, what fun was that?

  “You’ve got that swallowed-the-canary look in your eye.” Sean held the second bowl of potato salad and shoved the fridge door shut with his shoulder.

  “No canaries, just reminding that bunch that I’m not as old as they think.”

  Barely breaking his stride, the Farraday patriarch paused at her side. “Young and beautiful, nothing’s changed.”

  “Except maybe it’s time for you to hit the eye doctor,” she chuckled.

  One step closer to the dining room, Sean hesitated, his mouth opened, shut and then finally opened again. “My eyesight is fine.” Looking away from her, he carried food into the other room, smiling at Ethan as they crossed paths.

  “Need some help?” Ethan stepped fully into the kitchen.

  “What?” Eileen looked up at the only light-haired son her sister had produced. Ethan was out of the military now, but still strong and handsome, and right now the narrow crease between his brows told her he was worried. No doubt about her. Especially since she stood halfway between the two rooms, empty handed, and staring at dead space where Sean Farraday had been only moments ago. “No, thank you. Just wondering if I’d forgotten anything.” Like whether her brother-in-law had ever mentioned he thought she was beautiful before?

  “Okay. I’ll check on the meat.” Ethan shifted around her, the worry lines between his brows intact.

  Eileen had only a moment to consider what was up with him before Ethan’s wife Allison weaved between them holding a tray of grilled corn on the cob over her head to make shimmying between them easier. “Beep beep.”

  Reaching up with one arm to steady the plate, Ethan slung his other arm around his wife’s waist, planted a hard and fast kiss on her lips, and shot her an impish grin that promised more to come—without an audience—and whispered, “Are you okay?”

  “One of these days I’m going to drop a dish right on your head and we’ll both end up in the E.R.” Her tone was off, overly playful, hiding something. Eileen could feel it. Then Allison blinked and barely nodded, and Eileen was sure something was up, and not in a good way.

  “E.R. huh.” He winked, widening that dazzling smile. “It’s worth it.”

  “Men,” Allison mumbled, but the huge grin that had replaced the hitch in her voice said she didn’t seem to mind them at all. At least not this one.

  Maybe Eileen was reading too much into the exchange. If anything was seriously wrong, she couldn’t imagine it slipping by with a wink and a smile, even from Ethan.

  Every time Eileen saw the love zinging between her nephews and their wives, it made her heart nearly melt with happiness. She couldn’t help but wonder, had she beamed that way when she was with Glenn? Had he looked at her the way Ethan stood following Allison’s every move, sporting a smile that made his eyes twinkle like the North Star? Could they possibly have another chance?

  The chiming of the doorbell snapped her out of her musings. She’d done way too much thinking the last two days. Too much living in the past.

  Escorted by no less than four of the six Farraday sons, Glenn approached cautiously with a bottle of wine. Pinot Grigio.

  “You remembered.” She tried hard to swallow a knot suddenly lodged in her throat.

  Glenn shrugged. “Took a chance it was still your favorite.”

  “It is.” For the first time in two days, her heart gave a little kick. A kick she hadn’t felt in a very, very long time.

  “Supper’s almost ready.” Sean strode into the kitchen. His step faltered and his smile slipped for only a moment before he moved more casually, smiled brighter. “Welcome. How do you like your steak?”

  “Medium.” A hint of confusion took over Glenn’s face.

  She couldn’t blame him, this warm and friendly Sean, the man everyone loved and respected, was not the brooding silent man who had shared a booth at the cafe with them yesterday.

  “Good.” Sean held the welcoming smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll tell DJ. He and Connor are in charge of the grill today.”

  Eileen jetted her chin toward the back door, pretending this was any Sunday supper and the man she’d almost married wasn’t standing at her side. “Make sure they’re paying attention to the meat and not ogling their wives. Last time we left DJ and Becky in charge of the grill all the steaks came out like shoe leather.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Sean saluted with one hand and yanked the door open with the other.

  “Would you like something to drink?” Finn came up behind Glenn.

  “No, thanks, I’m fine for now.”

  “You sure? Aunt Eileen makes a killer lemonade or Dad keeps the fridge stocked with a selection from the new brewery in town.”

  “Maybe later.”

  Finn nodded, and scanned the counter. “Looks like all we need now are the steaks.”

  “Sorry we’re late,” Jamie called from the front door.

  “Here we go.” DJ came through the back door. “Take your places. Sizzling beef coming through.”

  Connor followed behind. “I’ve got th
e well done for the traitorous beef eaters.”

  “Guess it’s a good thing I like medium,” Glenn whispered to her.

  “They’d have forgiven you,” she chuckled. Maybe.

  By the time the chaos of seating adults, guests, and children had passed, the next commotion of passing platters and grown brothers pretending to stab each other with forks as if they were still eight years old ensued until Sean blessed the meal.

  Conversation bounced from sibling to cousin, battling with cutlery scraping the plates and quiet one on one commentaries to be heard. After each of her nephews had taken a turn peppering Glenn with questions about a musician’s life on the road, the conversation turned to Aunt Eileen on the road and with a little deft distraction, Eileen managed to turn the talk back on the kids.

  Glenn focused on Joanna, Finn’s wife, the published author. “I’m incredibly impressed. I can hardly string two words together to form a sentence.”

  Joanna shook her head. “But you make beautiful music.”

  “I definitely play music, and how beautiful was probably in the ears of the beholder.”

  Just about everyone at the table chuckled at the twist on the old cliché.

  “But,” he continued, “I don’t write any of it, just play it. You, on the other hand, weave stories that capture the mind.”

  “That remains to be seen,” Joanna said softly.

  Eileen frowned at her niece-in-law. “What do you mean? Your book on the ghost towns and Sadieville, or Three Corners as it was officially known, was a great success.”

  “That’s only because the town has such a colorful history. I suppose it’s like Glenn’s music, I only played the story, I didn’t create it.”

  “Don’t underestimate yourself.” Finn let his arm fall across his wife’s shoulder and gently brushed his thumb along her arm. “I could have easily put this entire room to sleep retelling the same stories in a much less interesting fashion.”

  “Ghost towns?” Glenn asked. “Sounds fascinating.”

  “Right around here,” Eileen put in.

  “Really?”

  “We have quite the history around us. Our very own Chicken Ranch,” Eileen said with as much pride as if she were announcing a relationship with a renowned university and not a brothel.