Chapter 8
Natalie
Tip #8: When introducing your enemy to family, keep explanations simple: “It just happened” is less suspicious than “I’m trying to emotionally manipulate you all into harmony.”
I maneuvered my little hatchback into a spot along the curb in front of my parents’ ranch-style house. The front lawn was blanketed in a pristine layer of fresh snow that sparkled under the winter sun. It was cute and idyllic and totally misleading considering the stakes of the visit.
I glanced over at Samuel in the passenger seat, his chiseled features illuminated by the sunlight streaming through the windshield. “Just to warn you, I only called my folks about thirty minutes ago to let them know we were stopping by,” I said.
One of his dark eyebrows arched. “They won’t find a last-minute drop-in rude?”
“Nah.” I waved a dismissive hand. “Mann family members are always popping in and out at all hours. My parents are used to it. Besides, if I’d given them any more notice, half the clan would’ve heard about it and come over to spy on us. I’m trying to be considerate so you don’t have to face the firing squad right off the bat.” I flashed him a wry smirk. “Mom and Dad are the safest to start with.”
“Thanks for that.” A smile played at the corners of Samuel’s mouth. “Why are they the easiest place to begin this little charade?”
“They’re the only easygoing ones in the whole Mann family. But keep in mind, our definition of easygoing is probably very different from yours.”
Samuel laughed, a rich sound that did funny things to my insides. “I see. Any last-minute warnings or advice before we head into the lions’ den?”
“Let’s see... eat whatever Mom offers you unless you’re deathly allergic. Stick to safe topics like sports, hunting, and the weather with Dad. And whatever you do, avoid any mention of Warner Print.”
“Got it. I can handle a little small talk.” Samuel’s slight smile bloomed into the charming one he used to convince people to give him whatever he wanted.
I snorted. “We’ll see, city boy. Ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Samuel reached for the door handle.
We climbed out of the car into the cold winter air. I carefully picked my way up the shoveled and salted driveway, very aware of Samuel’s tall, broad-shouldered form following close behind me. When we reached the front stoop, I rang the doorbell out of courtesy, then pushed the door open and waved Samuel inside ahead of me.
“Mom? Dad? We’re here!” I called.
As soon as we stepped into the small entryway, I toed off my snow boots. Samuel gave me a quizzical look but followed suit with his much more expensive shoes. We hung our coats on the overloaded rack and walked into the cozy living room with its plaid couches and knickknack-covered shelves.
Mom sat in her favorite rocking chair next to a kid’s play kitchen, pretending to nibble a plastic hamburger. Noah, one of my cousin’s kids, stood at the tiny stove, studiously stirring a pot with a wooden spoon and narrating his culinary process. Dad was seated in his ratty plaid recliner reading the sports section of the Fox Creek Daily Times .
“Sweetie! You made it!” Mom popped up to wrap me in a hug. The flowery smell of her perfume—the same kind she’d used since I was a kid—instantly calmed my nerves. “And it’s nice to officially meet you, Samuel. Welcome!”
“Thank you, Mrs. Mann. It’s a pleasure to be here.” Samuel’s voice was so friendly and normal I gave him the side-eye in surprise.
“Oh, call me Patty.” Mom beamed and tucked some of her chin-length silvery blond hair behind her ear.
Dad hauled himself out of his chair and lumbered over, sizing up Samuel with an unreadable expression. “Paul,” he said gruffly, sticking out a beefy paw.
“Good to meet you, sir.” Samuel pumped Dad’s hand, holding his gaze.
Dad, a man of few words, nodded.
Samuel released Dad’s hand, and Dad scratched his beard while Samuel smoothly moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with me.
I tried to rack my brain for something to say, then Samuel took my hand in his. The warmth of his fingers radiated reassurance, but Dad’s obvious stare at our hands made it hard to think. “Oh. Oh,” I stammered.
Mom, always the perfect host, broke the strained moment. “I’m so glad you two stopped in for a visit! We’re watching Noah—he’s our grandnephew,” Mom explained for Samuel’s benefit. “He’s the son of Natalie’s cousin Madison.” Mom turned around to beckon. “Noah, come say hi to Cousin Nat and her boyfriend!”
Noah abandoned his toy stove and barreled toward us. After he skidded to a stop, he craned his neck to look up at Samuel. “Why are you tall?”
Samuel smiled. “My entire family is tall.”
“Why?” Noah asked.
“It’s a family trait.”
“Why?”
Samuel’s family must not have many kids, because his brow furrowed and he glanced at me.
I unapologetically grinned at him, enjoying his rare moment of discomfort. “Aren’t kids great?”
Samuel mock shook his head at me and adjusted his hold on my hand, twining our fingers together. “Of course. I just love the idea of having children.”
I would have pinched him for the comment, but I was too distracted by our clasped hands.
Before today I would have said that hand-holding was about as low on the scale of signs of physical affection as you could get. But the feel of Sam’s fingers sliding against mine and the soft caress as he rubbed the top of my hand with his thumb made my throat tighten.
Because I have great luck, the movement drew Noah’s attention from Samuel’s height to our hands.
Noah’s eyes widened and he pointed an accusing finger at our clasped hands. “Unprotected hand-holding!” he shouted.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re breaking the law,” Noah declared. “You’re holding hands and you’re not married! Mommy said that’s a crime .”
Dad erupted into a sudden coughing fit while Mom placed her hands on her plump cheeks. “Oh, dear. Noah, that isn’t precisely what she meant, I’m sure.”
“It is,” Noah insisted. “Mommy said I exist because Daddy held her hand on the beach during a romantic sunset.”
“Ahhh,” my mom said, wide-eyed and at a loss as to how to follow up that statement.
Samuel grinned at me like the Cheshire Cat. I resisted the urge to face-palm.
This visit was off to a fantastic start.
“Kids are just so hilarious and perceptive.” Samuel gave my hand a little squeeze, sending tingles racing up my arm that threatened to short-circuit my brain.
I was starting to understand why so many women in Fox Creek found him so irresistible.
Desperate to change the subject before Noah could traumatize us further with his interesting takes on my cousin’s romantic life, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“Hey, Noah, what happened to your hair? Last time I saw you, it was a lot longer.” I reached out and playfully ran my hand over his stubbly hair.
Noah scrunched up his mouth. “Me and Anna were playing hair salon, but like a real hair salon, so Anna cut my hair. Mommy didn’t like it, so she shaved the rest off.”
“Well, I think it looks very cool,” I assured him. “You’re totally rocking the buzz cut, my dude.”
“Thank you.” Noah barely acknowledged my compliment, as he was back to eyeing up Samuel. “Are you going to show off your magic?”
“Why do you think I have magic?” Samuel asked.
“Mommy said the only reason Natalie would date a no-good Warner was because his face was magic. Why is your face magic?”
I choked on air, and I felt my face heat up. I was going to have some choice words for Madison about what she said in front of her very impressionable six-year-old son.
“I’m not sure. Maybe we should ask Nat,” Samuel suggested, the traitor.
Noah turned his gaze to me. “Cousin Nat, why is his face magic? And what’s a Warner?”
Mom cleared her throat. “Who wants cookies? Noah, honey, why don’t you go wash your hands so we can all have a snack?”
Noah’s eyes lit up at the mention of cookies, the Warners forgotten. “OK!” He scampered off to the bathroom, and Mom turned to Samuel with an apologetic smile.
“Samuel, would you like a cookie? They’re chocolate chip, fresh out of the oven. Noah and I made them this morning.”
“That would be wonderful, thank you.” Samuel was all polite charm.
Mom beamed at him and bustled off to the kitchen.
Dad looked from me to Samuel, then to our still-joined hands. He grunted, then trailed after Mom.
I exhaled and nodded to Samuel. “At least the introductions are over. Remember, Green Bay Packers, hunting, and weather!”
“That’s a breeze compared to fielding questions that veer toward the realm of sex ed.” Samuel tugged on my hand, and together we left the living room for the kitchen.
The kitchen was just as cozy and inviting as the rest of the house, with yellow gingham curtains, sunflower-patterned dishes, and the mouthwatering aroma of chocolate permeating the air.
“Did you catch the Packers game last week?” Samuel asked Dad.
Dad stared at Samuel for a moment, resembling a suspicious bear, then nodded. “Good game,” he said in his deep, rumbly voice.
“It was a nail-biter,” Samuel said. “I didn’t know if they’d make it, but they brought it back around in the last quarter with that interception.”
Dad’s expression turned thoughtful, and the furrow between his eyebrows softened. “Yeah.”
Mom placed a plate full of chocolate chip cookies on the island in front of Samuel. “Here you go, dear. And Natalie, I put some aside for you to take home later.” Mom pointed to a plastic, gallon-size ice cream tub. (Mom, as a good Midwesterner, always found alternative uses for plastic food containers.)
“Thanks, Mom.” I stole a cookie from Samuel’s plate.
Samuel made an appreciative noise as he bit into his first cookie. “Wow, these are incredible, Patty. You’ll have to give me the recipe.” He somehow managed to sound completely sincere instead of chokingly fake like he usually sounded with me.
I watched, so surprised I didn’t even taste the chocolatey goodness of my cookie, as he charmed my parents, praising my mom’s baking and somehow casually conversing with Dad even though Dad stuck to his usual single-sentence replies. It was like a switch had flipped. Gone was the smug, smarmy Samuel I was used to, replaced by this genuine, likable version.
Maybe this whole fake dating thing wouldn’t be a complete disaster or a torture-palooza if he was hiding this kind of personality behind his insufferable attitude?—
HONK! HONK!
I froze, my blood running cold at the sound of a horn blaring from the driveway. Oh no. It couldn’t be...
I yanked my hand from Samuel’s and raced to the living room window. My stomach plummeted at the sight of the ancient maroon monstrosity idling outside, complete with tacky wooden panels.
“Mom!” I yelled. “You Judas! You betrayed us!”
Mom and Samuel crowded behind me to peer out at the unwelcome arrivals.
“Oh my. I have no idea how they found out!” Mom said. “I only told Owen and Madison and Uncle Mike that you were coming!”
“How could you tell that many people when I only gave you thirty minutes’ notice?” I couldn’t believe it. She’d practically sent out a Natalie’s-bringing-a-Warner-boy-home bat signal.
The van honked again, long and impatient. I groaned.
There was no escaping now.
I reluctantly dragged myself to the front door and yanked on my boots. “Samuel, grab your shoes. We’re being summoned. Leave your jacket; we’ll be back soon.”
To his credit, Samuel looked more entertained by my dread than alarmed as he obediently put his shoes on.
Bracing myself, I opened the front door. Samuel was on my heels as we stepped out into the biting winter air and straight into the tornado of love and sarcasm that was my grandparents.
The van’s sliding door whooshed open with a screech of rusted metal. Grandma Mann’s wrinkled face, framed by wispy white curls and comically magnified by her thick glasses, poked out.
“Well? Don’t just stand there! Get in, you two! We’re going for a drive!” she hollered.
I smothered a groan, muttering under my breath, “Steel yourself.”
“For a car ride?” Samuel asked. “How bad could it be?”
I shot him a look. “You have no idea. Grandma and Grandpa Mann? They’re like the final boss of the family. I was hoping to ease you in before throwing you to the wolves.”
Samuel chuckled, unperturbed.
He’d learn.
Pasting on a bright smile, I approached the van. “Grandma! What a surprise!”
“Less yapping, more getting in,” Grandma ordered.
I reached the front passenger door, opening it to reveal Grandpa Mann in the driver’s seat, his weathered hands resting on the cracked leather steering wheel.
“Hiya, pumpkin,” he greeted, eyes crinkling with love. Then his gaze slid to Samuel and all the warmth left his voice. “Warner.”
“Grandpa, Grandma, this is Sam—Samuel Warner, my boyfriend.” I looked up at Samuel and smiled, doing my best to look lovesick.
Samuel returned my look, then attentively turned to my grandparents. “Ma’am. Sir.”
Grandma harrumphed. “This close up, his mug is even prettier than I thought, I’ll give him that.”
“We’ve been mighty curious ’bout this fella of yours. Hop in.” Grandpa jerked his chin toward the seats.
I pointed Samuel toward the front seat, upholstered in musty maroon velvet.
Samuel balked. “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly when your grandmother?—”
“Nat and I don’t ever sit up front,” Grandma Mann interrupted. “We know better. Now park that Warner keister of yours.”
Samuel ducked into the passenger seat without further protest. I clambered into the full-size van’s middle row of seats, scooting past Grandma to sit behind Grandpa.
As Grandpa put the van in gear, I leaned forward to tap Samuel on the shoulder while he buckled his seat belt. “Keep your feet off the ground,” I said.
“What?”
“Feet. Off the ground.” I pointed to the way I held my booted feet off the ground. It made my thighs burn, but it was absolutely necessary in Grandpa’s van.
Grandpa Mann revved the van and we were off, rolling down the driveway in reverse to back into the street.
Grandpa’s way of driving provided for a… unique passenger experience. Instead of using one foot and switching back and forth between the gas pedal and the brake, Grandpa used both: his right foot for the accelerator, his left foot for the brake.
This meant there was a lot of lurching in his driving and some drastic changes in speed in very short amounts of time.
I adjusted the way the seat belt was positioned on my chest, kept my feet off the flooring, and leaned back into my seat before Grandpa Mann pressed the accelerator and the van rocketed forward.
“Samuel Warner,” Grandpa Mann drawled, drawing out the name. “Never thought the day’d come that a Warner would grow some sense, recognize a good thing, and seize it.”
I saw Samuel’s shoulders shake in a silent chuckle. “Oh, I’ve always known Natalie was a good thing. It just took a while to convince her I was one, too, before she’d date me.”
My eyebrows shot up in surprise. That was a new addition to our fake love story. We’d agreed to say it was mutual admiration from the start, not Samuel wearing me down. I never thought he’d be willing to paint himself as falling for me first. It didn’t match his endless confidence. (Or maybe his endless confidence made his ego incredibly secure?)
The maroon pleather dashboard gleamed in the sun, its cracked surface only adding to the retro vibe. A rolled-up newspaper caught Samuel’s eye, and I saw him pause, considering it in blessed, blessed ignorance.
Grandpa Mann took the next curve at a speed that had me white-knuckling the sides of my seat.
“Forget the boy!” Grandma Mann jabbed a bony finger at me. “Are you suffering a brain injury, girlie? How could you lose all your dignity and fall for a Warner?” Her shrewd eyes darted to Samuel. “Even if he is as rich as a king.”
“Why thank you, ma’am,” Samuel said. “I’m flattered you?—”
“Don’t you try buttering me up,” Grandma Mann said. “I’m wise to you Warners and your silver tongues.” She fixed me with a piercing look. “Well? Out with it! What’s a smart girl like you doing with this rascal?”
I took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself. “It was a process of elimination. I realized Samuel was my best choice for a serious relationship.”
Grandma looked aghast. “Process of elimination?! How could he possibly come out on top?”
“Easily.” I ticked the points off on my fingers. “He’s got the cleverness and ambition to keep up with me. He shares my passion for community involvement, and we both know our families bring on the crazy. It takes a special kind of guy to handle all of that.”
Even as I said it, a sense of unease prickled down my spine. Because it was true. All my past relationships had ended amicably because, deep down, I’d known my exes couldn’t handle my over-the-top love of Fox Creek and my bonkers family.
But Samuel... I glanced up to find him twisting in his seat so he could look back at me, curiosity burning in his dark eyes.
“I respect his work ethic,” I said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “And he is active in Fox Creek, just like me. He already donates a lot of money to things I’m passionate about, like the library.”
Samuel smiled at me. It was barely more than a twitch of his lips, but it was accompanied by a look of understanding that made me feel like he saw so much of me it was uncomfortable.
“Of course, we disagree on how to keep on improving things for Fox Creek,” I continued, trying to lighten the suddenly charged atmosphere. “But that just keeps things interesting?—”
“Land’s sake,” Grandma Mann muttered. “This is gettin’ disgustingly sweet.”
Grandpa Mann chuckled. “I suppose your reasoning is sound enough,” he allowed begrudgingly. “A man oughta match his woman in wits and gumption. But that doesn’t mean we like him!”
I exhaled, relieved to have cleared that hurdle. It was too much to hope for my grandparents to like Samuel. As long as they didn’t object to our dating, no one in my nosy family would try to pull us apart, and we could clear the runway for Jenna and Owen as I intended.
“Now you.” Grandpa Mann scowled at Samuel. “What’ve the esteemed Warners had to say ’bout you courting a Mann?”
The van’s blinker started ticking as Grandpa Mann took a sharp right. A flash of gray fur burst out of the cassette deck, and I yelped, slamming back against the seat.
A rotund mouse scampered up the radio, beady eyes bright and its long tail whipping behind it.
“Cheese and crackers!” Grandpa Mann bellowed. His hand shot out, snagging the newspaper. Driving one-handed, he started whacking at the mouse with the rolled-up newspaper as it climbed onto the dashboard.
The mouse zigzagged between his wild wallops, the newspaper thwapping the dash with dull thunks.
“I’ve told you before, Francis!” Grandma Mann started. “You need to put traps in this vehicle. Those mice have been freeloaders for too long!”
Through it all, Samuel didn’t even flinch. He just calmly raised his legs, now understanding why I didn’t put my feet on the ground, and continued, “My family just wants to see me happy, sir.”
The mouse ran toward the windshield. Grandpa Mann took aim, tongue between his teeth…
“And Natalie makes me happy,” Samuel said.
…and swung a home-run-worthy smack.
The mouse dove through a crack in the dash, disappearing to safety just before the newspaper connected with the glass in an almighty THWAP .
Samuel slowly twisted in his seat to look at me. “Was that... a real mouse?”
As the van rocketed onward and my grandparents descended into cackling laughter, I could only hope Samuel wouldn’t have a psychotic break in the front seat from the Mann chaos.
“It was a real mouse.” I reached forward, straining against my seat belt so I could pat Samuel’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. “One made a home in Grandpa’s van a couple autumns ago. He hasn’t been able to evict the little squatter and its ever-expanding family.”
Grandma Mann hooted. “They’re his tenants now! No amount of newspaper whackin’ will convince them to leave.”
Grandpa snickered as he swung the van around another sharp curve. “Now, you were saying about Nat and your family?”
Samuel’s expression softened, and my heart stumbled over itself. How could he look so genuinely in love when this was all an act? “My family is thrilled for me,” he said, his voice as sweet as honey. “They know how long I’ve cared for Natalie, and they’ll welcome her with open arms.”
Grandma Mann scoffed. “Really now? Last time I saw your mother, she called me a nosy old hag.”
“Grandma!” I choked out, mortified.
“Trust me, my family’s love for me far outweighs any grudge,” Samuel said. “They know how important Natalie is to me, and that’s all they need to know to be willing to accept her.”
I shifted in my seat, my stomach a mosh pit of butterflies. Even though none of this was real, he sounded so sincere and so utterly smitten that it was weirdly disconcerting.
Grandpa Mann harrumphed. “Can’t say we find you all that trustworthy. But it will do for now. However, we need to know: What are your intentions with regard to my granddaughter?”
“Grandpa, seriously? I’m twenty-eight, not a teenager going to prom.”
Before Samuel could answer, the glove box burst open, belching out a flurry of ancient maps and paper napkins across his lap. And there, perched on top of the van’s manual like a fuzzy gray king, was the mouse.
Samuel reached for the window crank, cool as a cucumber, and started winding it down. “I assure you, sir, and ma’am”—he grabbed the newspaper—“that my intentions are entirely honorable.”
The mouse skittered up onto the dash. In one smooth motion, Samuel scooped it up with the newspaper and flung it out the window.
We rolled up to a stop sign just as the mouse sailed into an evergreen shrub and disappeared.
“So long, freeloading vermin!” Grandpa Mann called after it. “And good riddance!”
Samuel cranked the window back up, then turned to fix my grandpa with a solemn look. “I’m not dating Natalie for fun, sir. She’s the love of my life. I intend to marry her and build a future with her here in Fox Creek because she loves this place so much. She’s my forever.”
I stared at the back of Grandpa’s headrest and reminded myself that it was just a few months ago Samuel had requested that the Fox Creek town clerk (a.k.a. me) attend all the community development committee meetings, which of course he served on as a citizen adviser. (His request had been accepted, and he made sure to sit next to me at every meeting ever since and frequently kept the committee members talking late—I was pretty sure just out of spite.)
Grandma Mann watched me, her eyes enlarged by her glasses. “Natalie”—she used my full name so I knew it was serious—“are you happy with him?”
I felt Samuel’s gaze on me, and when I glanced at him, he was watching me intently, his gray eyes soft and serious.
“I am, Grandma. I’m having a lot of fun with Sam,” I said, surprised to discover this was true.
Somehow, Samuel was a surprisingly good partner in crime. I never would have guessed it, but the rich business guy could roll with the Manns.
Grandpa Mann harrumphed from the driver’s seat. “Well, I suppose that counts for something.”
“If Nat’s happy, we had best let you two be. At least until this Warner boy of yours trips up,” Grandma Mann allowed.
I let myself finally breathe normally. We’d passed the test. They didn’t like our dating, but that was more than I could have reasonably hoped for anyway. It was enough that they wouldn’t interfere. I could work with this.
Sadly Grandma Mann wasn’t finished yet. “But I’m a tad disappointed in you, missy. I thought you had more sense than to go for this star-crossed-lovers shtick.”
I raised my hands in mock surrender. “It’s Samuel’s fault. He’s very persuasive.”
Samuel chuckled and turned to look out the front windshield again. “We’re not star-crossed. You’re too stubborn to let anyone tell you what to do, least of all the universe.”
Grandma Mann snorted. “At least you already know the worst about him after all these years of fighting. That’s more than most couples can say!”
“I agree,” Samuel said. “It’s Natalie’s angry face that made me fall in love with her.”
“OK,” I said, loudly. “Show and tell is over. Neither of you need to hear these kinds of details. Grandpa, take us home.”
Samuel sighed dejectedly, his usual charm back. “It’s difficult being the romantic one in the relationship.”
“You better be, because she deserves it,” Grandpa Mann sharply said. He paused, then added gruffly, “But don’t mind her. She’s just self-conscious about these things.”
“Yeah,” I said. “That happens when your grandparents keep asking you about your love life.”
Samuel twisted in his seat again and gave me a forlorn look that signaled that whatever came out of his mouth next was going to inspire me to commit homicide. “But now we can actually tell them, honey buns. We can share all the details, like how you think my abs are my best feature?—”
“SAM!”
Grandpa Mann cackled, but Grandma Mann folded her arms across her narrow chest. “I still don’t like this, so be warned, Warner. One wrong move and you’ll have the wrath of the whole family coming down on you!”
Samuel dropped the sappy look. “I understand, but you don’t need to worry.” His dark eyes flicked to me one last time. “I’ll never hurt Natalie, and I’m never going to let her go.”