Chapter 27
ALEX
Ella: How did you like the new therapist?
Alex: She wants me to practice meditation.
Ella: Fuck that. Let’s burn some shit.
_____________________
“Alex, the chief’s here again!” Mali called back to my office. As chipper as my hostess was, even she was getting sick of this.
“You have to be fucking kidding,” I snapped, closing my eyes and counting to ten.
Is he out of his mind? This was his third visit in the past six days.
Ella sighed from her spot in my office’s “visitor’s chair,” which was really just a stack of Rubbermaid bins at the moment. We’d decorated for Thanksgiving last week, and the empty bins apparently lived in my office until it was time to swap them with the Christmas stuff next week.
“Why is he like this?” she demanded. “I thought the two of you were getting along better and then, boom! More inspections and feuding. Make it make sense.”
Despite Judd’s awful accusation of my running straight to my family, I hadn’t told them anything. Which was honestly making the quasi-breakup ten times worse. I was screaming in pain on the inside and had to act completely normal on the outside.
And it was all Kincaid’s fault.
“What do you want?” I asked when I got out to the front of the house.
He tilted his chin at my string of turkey lights hanging over the bar. “Those aren’t to code. They need to be eighteen inches below the sprinkler deflectors.”
I stared at him and tried not to notice how jaw-droppingly beautiful he was. Judd Kincaid was a gorgeous man. If he didn’t scowl most of the time, people would be all over him like white on rice. Hell, they already were.
“And how many inches are they, Chief?” I asked, because if he was threatening to cite me, he already knew he was in the right.
He met my eyes. “Seventeen and a quarter.”
“This is harassment,” I hissed. “You know it, and I know it, and— Hi, Mrs. Carilla! Yes, it’s good to see you, too. Oh, the mah-jongg group today, hm? Well, that’s wonderful. Welcome to Timber. We’re happy to have you. Mali, here, will find you a couple of tables in a nice, private corner.”
“Verbal warning,” Judd said, after the older lady and her friends walked away. “And when you put up the next set of holiday decorations, remember the Four F’s.”
I glanced at him in pleasant surprise. “Oh, believe me, Chief. I can remember some effs right fucking now.”
His eyes never wavered from mine. “Flame, fixtures, flow, and food zones. Use only flame-retardant or -resistant decorations, plug fixtures into rated outlets and avoid daisy chaining, keep exits and sprinklers clear, and keep decor away from cooking grease or grill flames.”
“Think you forgot an eff-word, Kincaid,” I growled.
He tapped his chin, then snapped his fingers. “Yes. You’re correct. Fuse. Use lights with built-in fuses. Thank you. You’re ever so helpful when it comes to fire safety, Marian.”
By the time I finished holding back a shout of frustration, he was gone.
“That man is a stickler for fire safety,” one of the older ladies at Mrs. Carilla’s table said with a bright smile. “Isn’t that nice having someone like him here in Legacy? He’s such a dear.”
I inhaled deeply and held the breath in my lungs for as long as possible before letting it out slowly and silently.
“Such a dear,” I exclaimed. “Just a dear, dear, dear man. Yes he is.”
Later that evening, I concocted an email in response to a “Fire Safety For the Holidays!” leaflet he’d left on the bar.
To: His Excellency, the Earl of Overreach
I wanted to thank you for your most recent seasonally appropriate reminder that twinkle lights, wreaths, and anything made of pine needles apparently qualify as “potential death traps.” Your festive leaflet really puts the “bah” in “humbug.”
While my staff has dutifully removed the three strands of “metrically inadequate” turkey lights (RIP, gobbling ambiance), I feel confident that Timber can safely handle holiday décor without turning into a yuletide bonfire.
After all, our extinguishers, sprinklers, and staff training remain—as you so often remind me—at acceptable levels.
That said, I am throwing myself on His Excellency’s mercy to request official approval for our upcoming holiday dessert feature: Cherries Jubilee. Yes, it involves a small table-side flambé. Yes, it involves fire. And yes, before you choke on your Nomex, I will ensure:
Only trained staff handle the torch.
A fire extinguisher is within arm’s reach.
Patrons are warned that their Instagram stories may spontaneously combust with delight.
If it eases your professional conscience, you are welcome to come by for a live demonstration. I’ll even set aside a seat at the chef’s table so you can glower from an optimal angle.
Most neutral of holiday wishes,
Alexander Marian
Owner, Timber
As soon as I shot it off, I rubbed my face with both hands and tried to mentally saddle up for tomorrow. Marian Thanksgiving.
Marian Thanksgiving was at my grandparents’ lodge.
Thankfully, not everyone was coming to Legacy for it since we were having a huge family Christmas here in just a few weeks.
But Thanksgiving still included my dads, my uncles Jude and Derek, and all of the Legacy resident cousins.
There were most likely a few other Marians or Marian-adjacent people coming as well.
It was going to suck.
My parents’ generation tended to invite stragglers to any family event, which meant you never knew who would be there.
While that was great because it meant Tavo was obviously welcome, it also meant Papa and/or Ella sometimes took the opportunity to invite a friend who just so happened to be gay or bi and just so happened to be single and oh-by-the-way also happened to have something in common with me.
I pulled out my phone and sent a pre-excuse prep text to the small family chain of just Papa, Dad, Ella, Mattie, and me.
I’m not feeling well. Think I’m coming down with something.
Papa
Ooh! I’m really good at diagnosing from afar. Hang on… Wait for it… I think… you’re coming down with an excuse to skip family Thanksgiving.
Dad
Nailed it.
Ella
You are literally in your office with a half-eaten order of mozzarella sticks next to your face.
I glanced up and saw her standing in the hallway outside my office.
“I hate you,” I said without any feeling.
“Mfh. Tell me what else is new.”
She typed on her phone, and another text came through on the family chain.
Ella
Hey, I tried this great red the other day. Alex, can you pick up some…what was it called… Woodbridge Cab Sauv?
Dad
You mock me, daughter.
She snickered and put her phone away. “Tell him you’ve decided to make sangria with Sutter Home because Tastings says it has hints of Fig Newton.”
“Why are you here?” I asked. “You were here earlier today. I’m starting to feel like there’s something going on.”
“Fine. I was elected to ‘Make Sure He Doesn’t Bail.’ My job is to pick up you and Tavo and bring you to the lodge tonight. Mandatory family fun starts at o’dark thirty tomorrow.”
I glared at her. “No. I reject your interfering ways. I will come to the lodge when I get up in the morning and not a minute sooner.”
She gave me a mock-pitying look. “’Fraid that’s not an option, Alexander the Grape. It’s my way or the highway. Actually, it’s my way, or Uncle Derek said he was bringing the stun gun. Apparently, you owe him a game of Sequence, and he intends to get you to pay up tonight.”
I groaned. The last thing I needed was Marian interference in what had become my nightly pity-party ritual.
“Make concessions,” I insisted. “If I go tonight, I can leave right after the meal tomorrow.”
She held out her hands in an “I don’t know, I don’t make the family’s stupid rules” shrug.
We both knew once I was under the tractor-beam-like powers of our fathers, there was no way I was leaving before midnight tomorrow.
We also both knew if I didn’t come tonight, our parents would just turn up here, wondering what was wrong.
And there was absolutely nothing wrong.
“Fine. I need to tell Tavo and pack a bag.”
She hopped up and followed me out to the front of the house so I could tell Mali to stop seating people if she hadn’t already.
But when I got as far as the bar area, I stopped and stared.
“Hey, Alex,” Kaidee greeted me with a friendly smile. “How are you? I’m just here grabbing pizza since I got in too late to cook, and Judd had to work late.”
Her words struck like boulders to the chest. “Oh. You’re here for Thanksgiving? With Judd?”
I hoped my voice sounded breathy and high only to me and not to everyone else. Unfortunately, I felt my sister’s eyes on the side of my face.
“Yeah, but he said your family invited us to Thanksgiving out at their place. A historic inn, I think? Is that right?”
This couldn’t be happening.
“Oh,” I managed to say. “Yes, well.”
Thankfully, Ella sensed my freak-out and took over.
“I’m Ella, Alex’s sister. My grandparents own the old Legacy Inn and Lodge, only now it’s a private family residence. We usually host holidays there and invite whoever needs a place to be. You’re very welcome to join us tomorrow. I look forward to sharing the day with you.”
Somehow, I managed to introduce the two of them, and then Karim came out with Kaidee’s food order, and I made a beeline for the back door.
Ella raced behind me. “Alex, what’s going on? Why are you upset that Judd and his girlfriend are coming to—”
“She’s not his girlfriend!” I snapped. “They’re just friends.”
Ella’s eyes rounded. “Okay, sorry. Why are you mad that Judd and his friend are coming to Thanksgiving? I know he gives you a hard time, but you did agree to extra inspec—”
“It’s not about the inspections,” I said. “It’s not. I just… It’s fine. I’m tired, El. Okay? That’s all. I’m being moody and unfair. I was already in a bad mood, and now Papa and Dad are insisting I come over there and probably stay up too late and get woken up too early.”
Her mention of the extra inspections reminded me that they were done. According to our agreement, they should have been over after the one today. So at least that was something. He would no longer have an excuse for his bullshit appearances any old time he wanted to.
I thought about Kaidee. Why was she here? Had he called and invited her? Had he finagled an invitation to Thanksgiving on purpose, or had he been roped into it by one of my well-meaning family members?
Did it matter?
Did I care?
Of course I cared.
I blew out a breath and went upstairs to find Tavo. When I entered the living room, he and my barback jumped apart on the sofa, and I stared at them for a beat.
“Hello, Drew,” I began. “Tavo. I see you two finally met?”
Tavo began to blink like eyelids had gone on deep discount and he’d bought out the store. “Yeah, so, uh, yeah.”
Ella snorted and turned her back to the room so she could close her eyes in glee.
“Right. Well, carry on,” I said. “Wait. Except… we’re headed to the lodge for Thanksgiving, and my family wanted you to come.”
Tavo’s cheeks were deep red. “Oh, er. It’s just that…”
Drew blurted, “Mom invited him to our place for Thanksgiving. I-if that’s okay.”
“You two know that I’m not your parents, right? And that you’re both over twenty? Because I’m feeling like I’m expected to set curfews or listen for the telltale sound of a window sliding open later tonight.”
Tavo groaned and threw himself back on the sofa. “I didn’t know how to tell you I wanted to go to Drew’s for Thanksgiving. I didn’t want you to think I didn’t—”
“Tavo,” I said, dropping a hand on his shoulder to squeeze. “If I could go to Drew’s with you, I would. I don’t begrudge you a normal holiday tomorrow. You two have fun, okay?”
They both grinned. God only knew what the two of them would get up to once Ella and I were gone. Suddenly, I was glad I was getting out of Dodge.
Once we were in Ella’s car on the way out to the lodge, she turned to me and asked if I was feeling better now.
“Yeah,” I lied, flashing her a smile. “I’m great. It’s going to be fine.”
It was not, in fact, fine.