Seven #3
It took me a bit to completely right the kitchen as though I had never been in there, and as I was hanging up the towels, I heard a throat clearing behind me. I found myself alone with David Fisher.
“Come join the adults now. My mother is opening her gifts.”
“Sure.”
He held the swinging door open for me, and then I followed him out into the enormous living room.
Everyone was clustered around a beautiful woman holding court.
She was opening gifts, but her eyebrows were scrunched.
I moved across the floor and over to her so she had to tip her head back since she was sitting.
“If you tell me where some paper and pen are, ma’am, I’ll be your secretary and make a list of your haul for ya.”
“How did you know? I didn’t even—”
“I was a personal assistant for five years, and my boss was big on the nonverbal cues as well.”
Her eyes were soft as she looked up at me. “Well, thank you, dear. In the desk drawer in the foyer should be a pad and your choice of pen.”
I went to get what she needed, and when I got back, she gestured for me to sit down beside her.
“Who are you?” She smiled at me, her lovely, clear blue eyes glinting in the light.
“I’m Jory. I came with Hayes.” I tipped my head at the man looking stunned, sitting across the room from me.
“And I didn’t get an introduction, why?” she asked, turning to Hayes.
“He was cooking for and entertaining your grandchildren,” David chimed in.
“Was he?” Her eyes were warm. “Well, I’m Libby Fisher.”
“Pleasure,” I said, grinning. “So, what’d ya get so far?”
“Well,” she began, pointing to things, calling them out to me, and I wrote them down and took the cards she passed over.
When she got to the box from Hayes, she was genuinely touched at the scarf inside.
“My goodness, Hayes, and my favorite colors too,” she said, beaming at her son. “I love it.”
And she had the newest iPad and jewelry and tickets for a cruise and many more things that made my brain spin, but the scarf she put on and patted over and over.
When I got back from the kitchen, where the garbage bags were, to help clean up the paper, Libby reached for my hand and stopped me from moving.
“Ma’am?”
“Libby.”
I smiled at her. “Libby.”
“Hayes says that it was your idea for the scarf. How did you know I’d love it?”
“It’s getting a little colder, but not cold enough for a muffler, but Chanel, with fall colors …” I arched an eyebrow at her. “C’mon. And I figured if your coloring was anywhere near his … we’ve got this, right?”
She was enchanted with me. It happened sometimes. “Did you eat?”
“Not yet.”
“Come with me.”
I was filling a plate from the buffet table, with Libby supervising, when the door chimed and more people showed up. When she left, David was there.
“I wanted to thank you for being nice to my kids, Jory.”
“You don’t hafta thank me for that. They’re great kids. Their mom is cool too.”
He nodded. “The reason for the divorce is obvious, I'm sure—you’ve met Derek. I had no idea that Hayes and I were the same way.”
“Both gay, ya mean?”
“I—”
“Say gay, man,” I told him, talking like a high-end fashion photographer ordering around models. “Spit it out. Nothin’ to be embarrassed about. Own it.”
He stared at me. I cackled evilly.
“It’s not—”
“I haven’t met your father, but your mother couldn’t care less.”
“She used to.”
“Who cares about used to?” I pointed out.
He was staring at me when Hayes joined us.
“You ditched me,” he said flatly.
“Because his kids were more fun,” I told him, chuckling as I moved around the two brothers to find a seat in the dining room.
I introduced myself to the others at the table—Hayes’s sister, Jane; her husband, Marc; and various cousins, spouses, and finally, the family patriarch. I rose to shake William Fisher’s hand, and he gave me the two-handed shake and smiled a real one.
“Pleasure. Jory what?”
“Harcourt.”
“Harcourt?”
I sighed and smiled. “Yep, Dane Harcourt’s brother.”
And he was impressed because in Dane’s reflected glow, I was golden.
After dinner, I took a tour of the house with William and got him talking as he showed me his collection of antique revolvers, and I listened to his family history and finally ended up looking at the pictures along the stairs.
He left me in the game room with the girls, the teens and tweens.
There were five of them in all, and I showed them how fast the Dance Dance Revolution was supposed to be done on the PlayStation 2.
There were squeals of delight when two of their mothers poked their heads in an hour later.
I talked them both into trying, and no matter what, no matter how old, when parents joined in with their kids, they loved it.
Making fun of their moms was fun, and the laughter from the women was nice.
“Oh, Jory,” Jillian Fisher cooed, hugging me tight. “When are you coming back?”
The second time I hit the buffet, I had all five girls in tow. We talked about boys, and I looked at pictures on phones, and when Libby and William started dancing on the patio by the pool, I asked one of the girls, Andrea, if she’d like to join me.
“Oh, Jory, I can’t dance,” she told me.