Chapter 12 #2
If my heart didn’t stop when Blythe told me our parents were here, it sure does now.
The class on stage finishes their set of songs, with the crowd erupting in applause, while I stare at my girlfriend’s best friend.
“Ian, are you telling me … that my entire family, Callie’s entire family, and my practice partners are all …
here? Tonight? At the same time?” I have to ask it all pretty slowly for fear my heart may just give out.
Running isn’t one of my favorite workouts, so I usually skip it at the gym.
But I also didn’t know my cardiac health would be compromised like it is now.
When Ian doesn’t respond, I try to come up with any possible way I could get a message to Callie—to prepare her. She won’t like walking into this blind.
“What’s the big deal?” Blythe asks, grinning. Mischievous eyes sparkle, even in the dim light of the cafeteria. “Just some preparation for the wedding, which I’m sure is right around the corner.”
Ian frowns, confusion written all over his face. And his eyes, which are a little too locked onto my sister for my liking.
Blythe turns her bright smile toward him. “You know, since they’re obsessed with each other.”
“True,” he agrees. “Hey, why don’t you go tell your parents we found Oliver and I’ll be over in a minute.” Nodding, Ian slides his gaze toward me.
“Yeah, that’d be great,” I throw in.
Blythe shakes her head. “Okay, then.” She takes off in whatever direction our parents must be sitting.
When she’s out of earshot, Ian steps closer. “Okay, look. Aaron’s over there with the Rutherfords.”
“You mean Connie?” I smirk.
Ian grins right back. “Basically.” Casting a quick glance at the stage, the board showing which class is up next says it’s nearly showtime for my girl.
“Why are they here?” Even out loud, it sounds more like I’m asking myself than him.
But Ian humors me and answers, anyway. “I think it was mainly Connie and Imogene. And where Connie goes, Chris usually follows. But I think she guilted their parents into coming, too. Apparently, she and Cal had a little heart to heart the other night.”
“Not surprising,” I mutter, “Right, Connie knows about us.”
Ian nods. “Yeah, I know.”
“Of course you do.”
He smirks. “No need to be jealous, Rhodes. Callie’s like my little sister—always has been.”
“I’m not jealous. You couldn’t be more wrong.” My cheeks flame, which helps absolutely nothing.
“And you couldn’t be more in denial.”
Narrowing my eyes, I glare across the tiny space between us. “You don’t know me, Ian.”
He shrugs. “No, but I know Callie. And I know what she’s told me about you.” Callie talks about me?
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I take a deep breath. “Whatever. What about Imogene and Prescott? Should we be worried there?”
Ian motions over his shoulder where, sure enough, the entire Rutherford clan sits, looking uncomfortably out of place in the elementary school cafeteria. “I think she and Connie teamed up, talking up the costumes to Marigold, who then pestered Prescott.”
The lights flicker, signaling the next group is about to begin. Callie’s group.
“How do we want to do this?” I ask, desperation seeping into my tone.
“Aaron and I can handle the Rutherfords.”
“It looks like you might be able to handle Blythe, too?” I ask, raising a questioning brow.
He swallows, hesitating just a moment too long. Maybe I should ask Callie about that, since we’re together—for the season anyway.
Doing my best to ignore the excitement about being able to talk to her without much of a reason, I allow the question to pass. “My friends will be pretty engrossed with John’s daughter, though they are very aware of everything going on. I’ll let them know about the new developments.”
Ian nods. “What about your parents?”
Trying not to think about how much I may regret this, I ask, “Do you think you and I could double team them?”
“Got it. I met them the other day at Blythe’s apartment, and they know Callie and I are friends.
So nothing about my being here would seem weird.
” Looking around, Ian’s brother catches his attention.
Some kind of communication passes between them, the kind only siblings can understand, before Ian looks back my way.
“You go warn your friends, so they can help if needed. I’ll start with your parents. ”
Gratitude and relief flood my veins. “Ian, thank you. You know, for helping us.”
“Callie’s my best friend,” he says, “and I just want her to be happy.”
“So do I,” I say with full sincerity.
“Then you should know,” Ian steps in close, “I overheard Chris talking to Connie. Apparently, a few of them are questioning the validity of your relationship.” He shrugs. “It probably started with him, but I don’t doubt he could persuade the others.”
“I really don’t like that guy,” I mutter.
Eyes lifting to the final flicker of the lights, he says, “Time to go.”
Nodding, I ask, “Is this where we say ‘go team’ or something?”
Ian rolls his eyes, but smiles. “Just do me a favor. Don’t break her heart.” He doesn’t wait around for an answer before hightailing it toward my parents and sister.
Making my way to John and the others as quickly as possible, I barely make it to my seat before Callie steps out on stage, spotlit in moments.
Gone is the disheveled kindergarten teacher answering a hundred questions at once that I left in the music room.
In her place stands a ravishing and confident woman holding her head up high.
Callie beams at the audience as her kids make their way on stage behind her.
“Hello and thank you so much for coming tonight. Parents, I know technology can be a stinker sometimes, and if that happens, please know we are recording the entire performance. So no worries! Just stop by the table at the back or call the office tomorrow and give them your kiddo’s name and their teacher—that’s me, Ms. Rutherford—and we’ll get you squared away.
Now, these amazing kids have worked really hard, and I know they’re excited to show you everything.
Right, class?” Behind her, the kids cheer.
Callie laughs, turning back to the parents.
“Without further ado, please help me welcome Ms. Rutherford’s Little Reindeer!
” The cafeteria bursts into applause as Callie steps behind the curtain, the kids taking over the show.
Beside me, John grins from ear to ear with his camera at the ready.
Rindy and Jo fawn over the cuteness overload of Callie’s class, taking the occasional photo or video clip.
And I discover that if I lean just far enough to the right, I can see Callie standing off-stage, pride in her kids covering every flawless feature.
Halfway through the set, I get a text from Blythe with about eight hundred heart eye emojis with a few reindeer ones sprinkled in. Peeking around the room, I spot them near the bathrooms by the entrance.
Like my sister, Mom looks like she’s on some kind of cuteness overload while Dad bounces along to the beat.
Ian sits on the other side of Blythe, rightly keeping his hands to himself.
But as much as I want to, I don’t dare look around for the Rutherfords. That would be tempting fate.
When Callie’s kids are done and all the families they belong to begin to vacate for the next group of parents, I update my immediate group of the newest developments.
As expected, Rindy rubs perfumed hands together like any good supervillain, while Jo tries not to look ashamed of her wife’s behavior.
John, on the other hand, leaves to go grab Cici from Callie’s class before the potential clash with the Rutherfords.
Rindy, Jo, and I follow closely behind in the hall, hoping to beat—
“Oliver, how lovely to see you again.” Lillian Rutherford’s voice sounds from behind me.
Turning, I come face to face with the entire Rutherford family, with the exception of my favorite.
And who I’m assuming is Ian’s brother.
Pasting a charming smile on my face, I look at them each in turn. I even manage to not let surprise take over my features when Connie gives me an honest smile. “Mr. and Mrs. Rutherford, what a pleasure. Did you all enjoy the program?”
Ira and Prescott clearly came straight from the firm, still dressed in expensive suits that no mere mortals can afford. Callie’s father clears his throat. “Yes, well, it was quite adequate work. But then, you can only expect so much from kindergartners, I suppose.”
I stand a little taller. “Callie put in countless hours between the music and the costume creation. I know I certainly couldn’t have done better. But I know she’d welcome her father’s help for the spring program, if you’d like to help improve their efforts.”
“You’re Callie’s dad?” My own father strides up behind the Rutherfords, who turn to face his deep baritone voice. Dad holds out his hand. “Marshall Rhodes, Ollie’s dad. We just love your daughter.”
Rindy taps me on the shoulder. “We’re gonna leave you to, uh, this,” she whispers.
Tossing a grateful look at my friends, they extricate themselves from what may become a terribly awkward situation.
Ira takes the proffered hand, business manners kicking in.
“Ah, thank you. This is my wife, Lillian, and our children. Prescott, Imogene, Christopher and Constance. Calloway you know. And then hiding behind our oldest is his daughter, Marigold.” He listens graciously as Dad makes the necessary introductions of our family while I silently beg Ian for help.
“Hey Mr. Rutherford,” Ian interrupts, “I heard about the new merger with Benedict International. That’s quite the whale you landed. Congrats.”
Callie’s father turns shrewd eyes to the man next to my sister. “Thank you, Ian. It will mean quite the change in staff, especially with some of their own coming to work in our office over the next several months.”
Prescott’s gaze snaps toward his father, but he says nothing.