Chapter 28
Marlowe
Over the next few days her excitement sank in until it felt like reality. The miracle was going to happen. But by the time Brad invited her to dinner with his family, Marlowe knew she had to take one more important step. And she was dreading it.
The peace of a Sunday evening lay across the country road as Brad drove Marlowe to his parents’ house.
The weather had turned cold. Pumpkins still sat on some porches and soon people would be choosing a turkey for a family feast. The fading sunlight caught on the last of the orange leaves still clinging to the trees, turning them a deep red.
The dinner was a first for Marlowe and she tried to quell the nervousness in her stomach.
She'd never met a man's family before. But then again, Brad was a first. Her feelings for him sometimes kept her up at night. When she’d mentioned her feelings to Aunt Cate and Sam recently, they’d both looked shocked.
Marlowe had sometimes joked that she would probably be a spinster.
They’d all chuckled at the old fashioned term.
Her recent appointment with Dr. Lowe had brought her some clarity about how she felt about Brad and why she hesitated to believe in her feelings.
Now she faced another hurdle. Dr. Lowe had convinced her to pretend she was on the Olympic team.
Sitting next to Brad at the table, she was supposed to pretend that she wore the Olympic silks.
That confidence would send her leaping over the hurdles. Marlowe hoped it worked.
What if the Howingtons didn’t like her? They’d just passed a field where cows were moseying toward the barn for the night.
If she cracked her window, she would undoubtedly catch the scent of hay and cows and other farm-like things.
What if she was too much of a city girl to meet with their approval?
And then there was the baby Marlowe would be carrying.
How would they receive that news? She groaned.
“What’s that?” Brad gave her a quick glance, taking one hand off the gear shift to squeeze hers. In the light of the dashboard, she saw his concern. No way did she want to let him down. “Are you nervous?”
“Maybe. Just a little.” In her Florida real estate career, she’d met with billionaires with attitudes and she’d never felt this jittery. This matters, she realized with a jolt. “Have you told them I’m older?”
Brad’s chin pulled back. “Of course not. Why does that matter?”
“Sometimes it does. Every parent hopes for grandchildren.”
“They already have two,” he pointed out. “Shaun and Sarah.”
“But you’re their son. I’ll bet they have expectations?”
“I think they gave that up a long time ago.” Her breath caught in her throat when Brad veered to the right and pulled into someone’s long graveled driveway. He put the Jeep in park and turned. Had she made him angry? But no, he just looked concerned.
“What are your expectations?” he asked. “Because I love you. That’s what matters.
I’m willing to go with whatever dream you have.
” When Brad jammed one hand through his dark hair, she knew how upset he was.
“Heaven knows I probably won’t be a model husband.
My facilities are all over northern Michigan and I have to make the rounds regularly. I refuse to be a hands-off owner.”
“And I respect that and am used to handling things.” Marlowe knew that giving up her power over some things might not be easy. But she’d do it for him. She could hardly believe she was thinking that.
“Maybe that’s why I love you.” He leaned in for a kiss and she willingly gave it. “And I have no qualms about our future. If you don’t want children, that’s fine. But I’ve seen you with your niece. You’re a natural.”
“Could we just see what happens?” This conversation had gone way beyond anything Marlowe had expected. Doors were opening that she wanted closed…for now.
Brad drew back into his seat. She inhaled the scent of his soap that had become her favorite fragrance.
“You’ll like them,” he said, putting the Jeep back into gear. “And Mom likes meals served on time.”
“Then we’d better get a move on.” Marlowe folded her hands tightly in her lap. “You’ve told me your mom’s cooking could convert a vegetarian.”
He grinned. “That’s true. She makes a mean pot roast.”
Before too long, they turned onto a long gravel driveway.
The comfortable brick house with a skirt of Petoskey stones was framed by maple trees.
A wind chime tinkled from the porch. Marlowe felt a small pang of nostalgia she couldn’t quite name.
The bushes in front were trimmed and bright yellow mums sat on either side of a door.
Everything looked tidy. It reminded her of their old home in Naperville when her parents were still there to tend it.
Her dad used to love cutting the lawn. And this lawn stretched all the way to the road.
When Brad cut the engine, the quiet of the countryside pressed around them. She could hear children’s laughter inside, high-pitched and unrestrained.
“Ready?” he asked.
Marlowe blew out a breath and shook her numb hands. “Whenever you are.”
Inside, the house was warm and smelled like beef roasting in the oven and potatoes baking.
She stepped in behind Brad, taking in the comfort of the place.
Cross-stitched samplers hung on the walls, and faded family photos sat on gleaming side tables.
She wanted to check those out, but later.
Colorful pillows embroidered with birds and flowers were scattered across the sofa.
Brad’s mother appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on an apron with blue flowers. Her gray hair was pinned up haphazardly, and she had the kind of smile that sure looked genuine, not just polite.
“Mercy me, aren’t you a pretty one. You must be Marlowe,” she said, opening her arms. “Welcome, honey. We’re so glad you could come.”
Marlowe extended her hand, but the woman ignored it and pulled her into a quick hug that smelled faintly of onions and laundry soap.
“Thank you for having me,” Marlowe said, startled but pleased.
Brad’s father followed, slower and a bit shy, as Brad had warned. He was a tall man with stooped shoulders and a weathered face that spoke of years outdoors. “Nice to meet you, Marlowe,” he said, offering a firm handshake. “We’ve heard good things.”
“All true,” Brad interjected with an easy grin.
From the family room came the sound of little feet and giggles. They headed that way. A little girl and a smaller boy were building a fort made of card table chairs and bedsheets. The girl looked up first, pushing back a handful of dark curls. “Uncle Brad!” she squealed, springing up to run to him.
Brad scooped her up. “Hey there, Sarah. You keeping your brother in line?”
“I try very hard, Uncle Brad,” she said seriously. Then she turned to Marlowe, examining her as only a child could. “Are you Uncle Brad’s girlfriend?”
“Sarah,” a woman’s voice said with mild reprimand.
Nicole emerged from the hallway, looking casual in worn jeans and a long sleeved white shirt.
She had Brad’s hazel eyes, though softer around the edges.
“Sorry about that. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.
Brad’s told us all sorts of nice things. Had to see if they’re true.”
Marlowe laughed, the tension easing a little. “That’s reassuring. Hope I made the cut.”
“There’s no cut,” Nicole said, with an appraising glance. “My fussy brother has never brought anyone to Sunday dinner. Come in, food’s almost ready.” She shepherded the two kids toward the dining room. Her husband Trace had arrived, a solid looking guy with a firm handshake and a ready smile.
They all gathered around the table a few minutes later, the simple, comfortable setting making Marlowe oddly sentimental.
The table was sturdy oak, scarred from years of use, set with mismatched plates and cloth napkins folded into triangles.
Mrs. Howington seated Marlowe next to Brad, as if she knew Marlowe needed the support.
Brad’s father bowed his head, saying grace in a quiet, steady voice that reminded her of her own father.
The meal was simple and hearty: roast beef carved into generous slices, baked potatoes with bowls of sour cream and butter, steamed broccoli and a gravy boat that was passed carefully around the table.
“So, Marlowe,” Brad’s mother said as she spooned broccoli onto her plate, “Brad tells us you’re in real estate. How’s business these days?”
“It’s good,” Marlowe said. “I’m still getting to know the area, but there’s a lot of potential. People want to move here for the slower pace, and of course they love the lake.”
“You’re not from around here, right?” Brad’s father asked.
“Yes and no. I’ve been living in Naples, Florida, but our family has owned a home up here for a long time. My sisters and I kind of scattered after school and one Christmas together told us we were ready for a change.”
“Florida?” his mother said, sounding either dismayed or impressed. “That’s quite a shift, isn’t it? Are you enjoying small town life?”
“I am,” Marlowe said honestly while she poured gravy over her slice of roast beef and her potato. “It’s quieter, but it suits me. There’s something nice about knowing the people you pass on the street. My sister Izzy owns Coffee and Cupcakes.”
“Love that place.” Brad’s dad looked up from his food. “Great chocolate chip cookies.”
“Sure. We’ve been there.” Nicole nodded. “And I passed the house you were renovating last summer. Brad told me you lived there. And it’s permanent? You’re here for good?”
“Yes,” Marlowe said, smiling a little. Brad had told his sister where she lived? “It’s been a labor of love. We restored as much of the original structure as we could. I wanted it to feel like it belonged to the landscape again.”
“That must’ve taken a lot of work,” Brad’s father said appreciatively.
“It did. But the modern touches were definitely worth it. It’s home now.”