9. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
I perched on the edge of Aunt Lu’s hospital bed, recapping my strange morning at church while the news droned on in the background. Auburn football—her sacred liturgy—was already in full swing.
When I mentioned accepting a dinner invitation to Benjamin and Kendra Jackson’s home, I braced myself. I expected outrage. Fury. Some dramatic retelling of rule violations.
She gave me none of that.
“Am I missing something?” I asked, suspicious.
She shot me a sideways glance that said, What do you think? but still refused to elaborate.
“Do you know Benjamin and Kendra well?” I pressed.
Her smile turned mischievous. She was up to something. Definitely odd behavior—even for Aunt Lu.
“And did you really mean to have Benjamin and Brady on your Christmas list?”
She sat up straighter, smoothing her pajama top like she was about to host the evening news. “Yes, of course.”
“Of course?” I echoed. “Why?”
No answer.
She turned back to the television, utterly transfixed by Auburn’s playoff commentary. I’d never managed to love those Tigers the way she did. But football always had her full attention.
One more try. “What should I get them?” I asked, hopeful for a hint.
Still, she didn’t look at me. “I trust your judgment, Ella Lu.”
I wasn’t sure if she should. I wasn’t sure if I trusted my own judgment currently. The thoughts I was having about Brady were definitely not smart.
Then, out of nowhere: “War Eagle!” she hollered, practically fist-pumping at the screen.
It must’ve been something about a bowl game.
At that point, I was almost relieved to leave and change for dinner. The only concrete thing to come out of our chat? Her procedure was officially scheduled for ten a.m. the next day.
I rushed back to the house to change out of my dress.
As I swapped heels for flats, it hit me—I was either going shopping or driving back to Atlanta for a wardrobe rescue.
I also needed to reschedule a few signings.
My publisher was going to hate it. Oh, well.
I’d just say I was being cajoled by a fine old dame who happened to be the living, breathing inspiration behind Aunt Calliope.
As I drove to dinner, I realized exactly where I was headed. Lakeside territory. Jackson territory. Brady had mentioned living out here now, too.
I rarely came out this way. Obviously, the Jacksons never invited me to their mansion for tea.
The closest I ever got was the edge of their driveway—once, when Brady forgot his math homework.
I remembered sitting in his truck, heart thudding, while he ran inside.
I didn’t know what I expected to happen, but I knew one thing for sure: his parents hated me.
Still did, apparently, based on the looks they gave me this morning.
I wished I knew the whole story. Why the hate? Mrs. Jackson got her man. What was it about me that made loving Brady such a threat?
Even Aunt Lu never fully explained it. I could tell she was confused by it, too.
Just like I’d been confused by Brady running to Amber so fast. His explanation on Friday helped .
. . sort of. But how could he have ever believed I would cheat on him?
And for him not even to ask me if it was true.
That hurt almost as much as his breaking up with me.
I needed to stop thinking about him. But Brady was making that very difficult.
Yes, it was just a kiss on the cheek. But it felt as sweet as it had ten years ago.And if I knew Brady, that was only his opening move.
I had to avoid him at all costs.
I passed the Jackson mansion in all its glory, gleaming like something straight off the cover of Southern Living . Where our house was classically Southern, theirs was contemporary Southern. Sleek. Curated. A place with imported tile and high-tech appliances, I was sure.
I’d always wanted to go inside. It was strange—never stepping foot into the home of the only person I’d ever truly loved. But that’s Kaysville. Complicated. Petty. Ridiculous.
I drove half a mile farther, then turned into the drive of Benjamin Jackson.
I wondered if Kendra liked living so close to her mother-in-law. If things had gone differently, I’d have had the same one—and I know for a fact I wouldn’t have lived this close.
Kendra and Benjamin’s home wasn’t as grand as the Jackson mansion, but it was undeniably beautiful. A two-story gray brick house with a sweeping porch lined with square columns, all tucked under a classic gabled roof.
Even in winter, the landscaping looked polished. But my favorite part was the pine trees scattered across the yard—perfectly imperfect and gloriously Christmassy.
As I walked up to the front door, it hit me—I should’ve offered to bring something. What, exactly? I didn’t know.
Domestic skills weren’t my strength. But I could shop, decorate, and wrap a gift like it was couture. I could still sing and play piano, too—though I rarely did anymore.
That thought reminded me: I should slip behind the keys of my old grand piano sometime soon. It had waited long enough.
I didn’t even make it to the door.
My favorite five-year-old swung it open and launched herself into my arms with a squeal. “She’s here, she’s here!”
Kendra and Benjamin appeared, warm smiles on their faces.
We all seemed a little nervous. It felt like we were making Kaysville history—maybe the first time an Eaton ever crossed the threshold of a Jackson home for dinner.
Aunt Lu never talked much about dating Mr. Jackson. I didn’t know if she’d ever been welcome in his home, how long they dated—or the details of their engagement.
What I did know? They both grew up here. Just like Brady and me.
“Thank you so much for inviting me,” I said. “I’m sorry I didn’t think to bring anything.”
“Nonsense,” Kendra replied quickly.
Benjamin grinned. “Brady said you weren’t much of a cook anyway.”
He looked like Brady—just older, a little grayer, maybe a little wiser. The resemblance caught me off guard. Not sure why I had never noticed before.
Kendra swatted his arm playfully. “Please excuse my husband.”
I laughed. “Honestly, it’s okay. And it’s all true.”
Kendra smiled, warm and gracious. “Well, we certainly can’t write books, and we’ve heard you’re quite the musician. None of us can carry a tune or play an instrument.”
Clearly, I’d been a topic of conversation.
It made me wonder—what did Kendra do in the talent portion of her pageants if she didn’t sing or play? Maybe I’d find out later.
My cheeks warmed at the compliment. “We each have our own talents,” I said. “And judging by the smell from the kitchen, I’d say yours definitely lie in there.”
They welcomed me back into the kitchen and dining area. The room was dressed in warm tones—tasteful, cozy, and inviting.
“You have a beautiful home,” I said.
“Thank you,” Kendra replied.
“This may be a dangerous proposition,” I offered, “but is there anything I can help with?”
Both Kendra and Benjamin grinned.
“She can help me set the table,” Caroline chimed in, eager and proud.
I looked down at her sweet little face. “Something I’m actually good at. I’d love to help you.”
As Caroline and I set the table, Kendra asked gently about my aunt.
“She’s scheduled for angioplasty tomorrow morning at ten,” I told them. “If all goes well, she’ll be home by Tuesday.”
Kendra nodded, her expression soft with concern. Then she tilted her head slightly. “So,” she asked, “how long will you be in town?”
I glanced at Kendra. The way she asked—it wasn’t casual. She was fishing.
She was so darn nice, I hated skirting the issue. And flat-out lying wasn’t an option.
“Well,” I said, “my aunt asked me to stay through the holiday season. Well . . . more like she bribed me. So, I guess I’m here until the New Year.”
Kendra and Benjamin laughed, easy and light.
“That sounds like your aunt,” Benjamin said with a fond shake of his head.
I tilted mine. “I feel like I’ve been missing several pieces of the puzzle since I came back. How do you know my aunt? Besides the obvious.”
They both glanced at each other. Okay, this was getting weird. What was the big mystery?
Benjamin ran a hand down his face, thoughtful.
“Why don’t we talk about that over dinner?”
“All right,” I said. But inside, I was bracing. I had a feeling I was about to find out what Brady meant by things had changed. And I wasn’t sure I was ready for it.
Caroline and I set the table while she chattered nonstop about Sunday School. She talked faster than anyone I’d ever met, words tumbling out like spilled jellybeans.
By the time we finished, dinner was ready—roast beef, roasted potatoes, carrots, and what looked like homemade rolls.
It smelled divine . I rarely had a true home-cooked meal, so this felt like a genuine treat.
I caught myself wishing, just for a second, that we were sisters-in-law. Of course, that would mean I’d be married to Brady. And let’s not forget his charming parents, who I wouldn’t put past keeping a voodoo doll of me in their attic just for the fun of it.
“Wow,” I said. “This looks and smells fabulous. Thank you again.”
Kendra reached across the table and gently took my hand. “We’re really glad to have you here, Ellie.”
Why did that make my chest ache? Why did her sincerity—her kindness—make me want to cry?
They didn’t even know me. Not really. Yet they welcomed me like family.
I squeezed her hand back, managed a smile, and blinked against the burn behind my eyes.
Benjamin blessed the food. Short and to the point—just the way Aunt Lu liked her prayers.
I couldn’t stop staring. He looked so much like Brady. All I knew was Brady Jackson was going to be real easy on the eyes in his forties.
Caroline chattered nonstop as the dishes were passed around. It was adorable, right up until—“Did you know that Uncle Brady and Miss Ellie were boyfriend and girlfriend?”
She beamed at me as if she’d just shared the most delightful revelation.
I smiled back because—well, what else was I supposed to do? It wasn’t like her parents didn’t know.