8. Trinity
Trinity
I held tight to Oliver’s hand as I led him up the sidewalk.
He trailed behind, clearly reluctant. I didn’t blame him.
He’d signed on for dinner, not a night of meeting the family.
But having him with me would hopefully prevent my parents and siblings from lashing out.
He’d be a buffer. A good-looking, charming, mysterious buffer that would hopefully divert questions about my business venture to finding out more about him instead.
I wasn’t ready to come clean about my plans to my cautious, conservative family.
They’d only try to talk me out of it and stick their noses in where they weren’t welcome.
Once I’d opened for business and had some success under my belt, I’d be thrilled to field their questions.
Until then, I needed to hold them at bay. Before they ruined everything.
“You didn’t tell us you were bringing a guest,” Mother said, lifting a hand toward Oliver. “It’s always nice to meet a friend of Trinity’s.”
He glanced at me before taking her hand. “I’m Oliver, it’s nice to meet you.”
Her smile reflected the impression of warm hospitality she’d perfected over the years—the ideal secret weapon to my father’s career aspirations. No telling how much of his success could be solely attributed to her ability to make anyone feel comfortable and welcome.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Oliver.” She tucked his hand into the crook of her arm. “Please come in. I hope Trinity warned you the whole family is here tonight.”
I followed her as she led Oliver up the sidewalk toward the imposing front door of my childhood home.
He glanced back at me, the look on his face unreadable.
He was either mentally cursing me for setting him up or already planning some sort of twisted revenge.
Either way, it would be worth it. Facing my family alone just wasn’t an option. Not yet.
Oliver looked left, then right, then overhead as he passed through the front doors and into the spotless foyer.
I tried to see the place through his eyes.
It was like walking into Macy’s condo but on a much grander scale.
A huge chandelier hung from the ceiling, sending points of light around the two-story entryway.
Period antiques gleamed from constant polishing and the ornate double staircase stretched from both sides of the room up to a central landing before ending at the second floor.
How many hopeful suitors had stood at the base of those stairs, waiting for one of my sisters to make a grand entrance?
I’d never played into that scene, choosing to meet my dates out instead of having them pick me up at home.
Oliver was the first guy I’d invited over, another reason I was hoping his presence would keep the conversation from dwelling on my business plans.
Mother led him through the sitting room, past the formal living room and out onto the patio.
Conversation skidded to a halt as my brothers, sisters, their spouses and their kids stopped what they were doing and turned to stare.
For a moment, my lungs seized, and my heart thudded with regret for throwing him to the wolves.
But then Dad turned, his regular glass of scotch in hand, that familiar calculating grin on his face. “Who’s this?”
“Trinity, why don’t you introduce your friend?” Mother asked.
Stepping next to Oliver, I reached up and set a hand on his shoulder. “Everyone, this is Oliver. He’s a friend who’s studying here from New Zealand. I hope you’ll make him feel welcome.”
Dad approached first. “Oliver, we’re glad you’re joining us. I’m Trinity’s father, Patrick Ryan.”
“Nice to meet you, sir.” Oliver shook my father’s hand, then my oldest brother’s, then my sister’s husband’s, and so on until he’d officially met the entire family.
I waited until he’d met everyone, including my nieces and nephews who’d been well trained in my mother’s style of formal introductions, then grabbed his arm and steered him toward the bar set up on the patio. “How about a drink?”
He faked a smile and muttered in my ear. “What the hell is this? I thought we were going to dinner?”
“My mother hires a professional chef to come in and cook for our big family dinners. I swear you’ll get a better meal here tonight than you would at any five-star restaurant.”
“That’s not the point. You didn’t tell me I’d be meeting your whole family tonight.”
“Scotch, vodka or gin?” I stepped behind the bar and filled a glass with ice.
He shook his head. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”
“Gin, it is.” I mixed up two of my customary gin and tonics and handed him one. “You might want to down this real quick so I can get you another before we sit down to dinner.”
His hand closed around my wrist. “You either come clean with me or I’m leaving.”
The look in his eyes told me he meant it. I sighed. “Fine. In case you haven’t noticed, my family is full of high achievers. I haven’t exactly filled them in on my plans for the warehouse, and if I showed up alone tonight that’s all anyone would want to talk about.”
“So you brought me instead?” He let go of my wrist and picked up his glass.
“Something like that. I figured the sexy accent, your boyish charm… maybe it would be a good distraction.” As I said it out loud, I realized how stupid and manipulative it sounded.
“Why not skip dinner altogether if you didn’t want to come?”
“That’s a valid question.” I nodded. A really valid question.
He took a sip of his drink and waited. “So?”
“It’s hard to explain. When I said I’m the black sheep, I wasn’t lying. I’m the fuck up of the family. See my brother over there?” I pointed to my oldest brother, Randall.
He nodded.
“Graduated valedictorian of his high school. Went on to Harvard where he met my sister-in-law, then Harvard med. Now he’s got his own practice, and they live in a McMansion just like this in a suburb of Chicago.”
“Are those his kids?” Oliver nudged his chin toward my niece and nephew.
“Yep. Twins. They’re in second, maybe third grade now. Both of them are fluent in Mandarin.”
“Shit.” He took another sip of his drink.
“Right? Victoria spends all of her time volunteering at the twins’ school or her other charity projects. Perfect family, perfect house, perfect life.”
“What about the rest of your siblings?”
“You sure you want to know?” Running through the long list of their accomplishments always made me feel like a failure.
He set his empty glass down on the bar. “Only if you want to tell me.”
I shrugged. “Or we can play guess the success story. I can name one of their major achievements, and you can guess which one of my siblings is responsible.”
He let out a slight laugh. “That sounds like the kind of game we’d need to play when we have a lot more time and a lot more gin.”
“See?” I smiled up at him. “I knew you’d fit right in.”
“So, Oliver, is it?” James stepped up next to him.
“That’s right.” Oliver shook his hand.
James wasn’t so bad. Although, as the attorney in the family, he sometimes let his work get in the way. I nodded toward his empty glass. “What are you drinking?”
“Scotch, neat.” He slid his glass toward me. “What brings you back to town, sis? I haven’t heard from you in so long I figured you must have gotten swept away by a monsoon or shacked up with a beach bum down in Jamaica.”
“Very funny.” I poured two fingers of scotch into his glass and slid it back to him. “I’ve been busy.”
“My sister has a major case of wanderlust.” James tipped his drink toward Oliver. “Don’t get too attached. She doesn’t stick with anything or anyone for too long.”
Oliver’s cheeks flushed a slight shade of pink. What the hell was wrong with my brother? That right there was why I didn’t subject myself to family gatherings.
“Good to know.” Oliver lifted his glass toward James.
“I’m actually planning on sticking around for a while.” I glared at James, not that he’d be able to feel the heat of my gaze through the self-centered air of importance he always carried around.
“Really?” he asked. “Finally decided how to spend that nest egg Grandma Ryan left you?”
I dropped my voice low. “That’s none of your business.” I’d share my plans when I was damn well ready.
“Rumor has it someone bought a decrepit building over in downtown Newbridge. You wouldn’t know anything about that now, would you?” James took a casual sip of his drink, keeping his gaze trained on me the whole time.
I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “How interesting.”
“It is, isn’t it?” he asked. “I did a little digging. That building looks like it’s going to be a money pit. I’m talking epic proportions.”
“Oliver, did you want to try the paté? It’s an old family recipe my grandmother used to make.” I linked my arm through his and gave a slight tug.
“Wouldn’t miss it.” He grinned at James. “Nice to meet you.”
James shook his head. “Be careful, Trin.”
I propelled Oliver to the linen-draped table holding some of my family’s favorite appetizers. “He can be such a prick.”
Oliver pulled his arm away and turned around. “What exactly is going on here tonight? Why do I get the feeling you’re using me like some sort of shield against your family?”
“It’s complicated.” I let out a sigh.
“I’m great at complicated.” He set his glass on a table.
“Can we just get through dinner, and I’ll fill you in later?” Maybe bringing him had been a mistake. He’d be the perfect distraction if he’d just keep quiet and go with the plan.
“How about you fill me in now? Is there somewhere we can take five to ten minutes to talk?”
I owed him more of an explanation. It wasn’t fair to ask him to deflect questions from my family without having any idea about the kind of stakes involved.
I checked my phone. My mother usually kept pre-dinner activities to an hour, which gave me about fifteen minutes before we’d be expected to gather in the dining room.
I zeroed in on Julie, who appeared to be making her way toward us. Oliver deserved a little more info, especially if my siblings were going to keep peppering him with questions and me with unsolicited advice.
“Come on, I’ll give you a tour of the house.” I set my glass down and twined my fingers with his.
“Sounds good.”
I led him past where Mother stood, discussing something with the server she’d hired to help with dinner. She never did anything impromptu or without major effort.
“I’m taking Oliver on a tour of the house,” I said.
“Make sure you show him the trophy case in the family room,” she replied before turning back to her own conversation.
“Trophy case?” Oliver squeezed my hand.
“All of my siblings’ achievements.”
“How about yours?” he asked.
How about mine? Yet to be discovered? To be determined? My biggest accomplishment to date was signing my name on that Contract for Deed. And God only knew how that would turn out. “I’ll have to let you know about mine. They’re a work in progress.”
“I like works in progress.” He slid his arm behind my back as I led him inside.
Having him with me softened the harshness of being back in my parents’ house, surrounded by my overachieving family. The words left my mouth before I gave them a second thought. “Well then, you’re going to just love me.”