Chapter 10
Oliver
Callie wasn’t kidding about Imogene seeming standoffish. Other than the initial shock of seeing me in her childhood home, the woman has practically avoided me. Every time we’re in the same vicinity, she looks at Prescott for behavioral guidance.
“Imogene,” I say from my spot on the couch, “Callie tells me you work in aerospace engineering. That sounds exciting.” I think Callie’s right—Imogene has the potential to be a decent human toward my girlfriend, if she can quit worrying about what Prescott and Lilllian think.
She and Connie should certainly be the easiest to convince.
Beside me, Callie cuts me a cautious look.
All the Rutherfords sit on the extensive seating that likely costs more than my entire post-graduate education, and are dressed in designer outfits that cost more than my car.
While the home is decorated in warm colors, dark woods and bulky furniture that screams aristocracy, it’s easy to see why Callie wasn’t eager to return.
The furniture, though exquisite and finely made, is hard and uncomfortable.
Art pieces hanging on the wall evoke anger instead of peace.
The air is too still, like the house hasn’t been aired out for spring cleaning in nearly thirty years.
The large fireplace along the far wall looks like something that could be mistaken for a portal to hell if Ira Rutherford became irate.
It’s truly astounding to think this is where my Callie grew up.
Across the living room, Callie’s oldest sister nods. “I suppose.” I know Blythe and I have strong genetics, but this woman could be Lillian Rutherford’s clone. The two share everything from their willowy frame and expressive brown eyes, to their naturally mocha chocolate hair.
Callie’s oldest brother also strongly favors their mother’s dark features, while his daughter—who is currently perched halfway on Callie’s lap and occasionally looks my way with a giggle—is clearly of mixed descent.
The twins and Callie all resemble their father in hair color and complexion. But where Callie and Chris have dark eyes like their mother, Connie has the same vibrant green eyes of Ira.
“Have you worked on anything I might’ve heard of?” I try again.
Nervous eyes flit toward her brother before finding mine again. “I work on parts for the International Space Station pretty regularly. Nothing major or lifechanging, by any means.”
“I dunno,” I say, “I’d imagine so much as a single screw failing would be life changing to anyone up there. You shouldn’t discount yourself.”
A timid smile graces her heart-shaped face.
“I work with a man whose daughter loves space and has been looking at a program this summer up in Honeyville for her. She’ll be jealous I got to meet you.”
“Cici?” Callie guesses, grinning from her seat next to mine.
Beaming back at my girlfriend, all I can think of is how in sync we seem to be.
Imogene’s eyes light up. “Cosmic Kids,” she nods. “I actually help with that camp.”
Chris, who sits by Connie on a loveseat, leans forward. “Where did you say you two met?” he interrupts. Ah, yes. Middle child.
I paste a brilliant smile on my face. “In Callie’s classroom.”
“Why were you in Calloway’s class?” he demands.
Connie sets her jaw and whispers something in Chris’s ear, a look of contrition coming over him. The two of them have some kind of unspoken conversation over a span of ten seconds before Connie looks back at Callie and I and nods for us to continue.
Interesting.
“He came to help with the Halloween party,” Callie offers on my behalf.
My hand automatically reaches for hers, unbidden relief crashing through me when she takes it.
Ira Rutherford straightens in his seat. “Do you have a child, Oliver?”
Callie tenses beside me. As if she’s about to find out I have a kid hidden away somewhere.
Biting the inside of my cheek to hold back a smile, I look back at her father. “No, sir. But my business partner’s daughter is in that class, and I heard they needed volunteers. Since I work with children regularly, I thought I’d lend a hand.”
“So you have only known each other about a month, then?” Lillian asks.
I look down at Callie and answer, “Yes ma’am.”
“And you’re happy?”
Callie snaps wide eyes to Lillian. “Mother,” she warns.
“Well, I only ask because we thought Alexander was happy with you, but then it was suddenly over.”
“That’s because he’s a jerk,” Callie grumbles.
Chris smirks. “Maybe he didn’t want to marry a glorified babysitter,” he says to Callie, “Which is all teachers really are.” He yelps when Connie pinches him.
“You can tell a lot about a guy by who he hangs out with,” I shrug. “I’m sure his friends aren’t the best, either, then.”
Across the room, Chris’s face matches his hair. “He’s my friend. I'm the one who suggested they go out in the first place.” His tone is restrained, but it’s evident his temper is brewing beneath the surface.
“So you’re why Callie doesn’t date much?” I smirk, turning to my girlfriend. “Thanks for giving me a chance, my hot cocoa connoisseur.”
“You’re all-around better than Alex,” Callie grins back at me, only boosting my ego. “It’s no contest.”
I turn to Callie’s oldest brother, ignoring Chris’s fiery glare. “Prescott, you’re a partner at the firm? That’s impressive for your age.”
He nods. “It’s been a lot of hard work, certainly.”
“And nepotism,” Chris smirks.
Prescott narrows his eyes at his younger brother. “But I think it’s been worth it,” he continues.
“What kind of law do you practice?”
“We have partners that specialize in different areas,” Ira interjects, “but Prescott and I tend to focus on intellectual property and corporate law. We handle patents for the boom of technology companies all looking to outdo one another, as well as mergers, acquisitions, that type of thing. You’re welcome to come by the firm anytime and I can show you around.
” Callie’s father smiles in a way that feels shockingly genuine.
Even Callie’s brows knit together in question.
When a maid pushes a large silver cart with several plates of chocolate cake and three carafes of coffee into the living room, Lillian stands with practiced elegance. “Cake and coffee, anyone?”
Releasing Callie’s hand, I hop up to join Imogene and Prescott in passing out the dessert. When everyone else has been served, I grab a couple of plates for Callie and myself. “You don’t happen to have any hot cocoa, do you?”
Lillian blinks at me, the sound of forks scraping against fine china singing in the background.
“Callie doesn’t like coffee,” I explain.
“Of course she does. She’s drank it for years.” Lillian waves me off.
“Actually,” I say, gathering our plates, “I think what you’re referring to is when she was younger and would drink it because you expected her to.
Did you know studies show that forcing children to eat and drink things they don’t like often has the opposite effect, leading to negative associations with the food and, by extension, the parent who made them consume it?
” Offering her a tight smile, I make my way back to my girlfriend.
I take my seat next to Callie, handing her one of the plates. Leaning next to her ear, I whisper, “Sorry, no-go on the hot cocoa.”
Callie’s face breaks out into a beaming grin at my rhyme, causing her to choke on a bite of cake.
“What do you think, Oliver?” Ira’s voice pulls me back to the conversation and away from his daughter.
“Sorry,” I say, finding him watching us closely, “what was that?”
Ira practically licks his plate clean in between words.
“Don’t you think it would be worth Calloway’s while to consider returning to school to study in a different field?
She has so much potential, but it’s being wasted in a classroom.
She always excelled at sciences—she could’ve been a chemist or a botanist. But she settled for something so far beneath her abilities. ”
If this is the way her family talks to her at every family meal, I can’t believe she keeps returning.
Taking a deep breath to temper the building frustration, I level Ira with my gaze.
“Education is a perfectly respectable field, sir,” I say calmly.
“If Callie ever decided to return to school, I know she would flourish in whatever discipline she may choose. But if she received this kind of pressure growing up, I’m not surprised she concluded her education at the bachelor level. ”
Ira narrows his eyes as though I’m a puzzle he can’t quite figure out. “And why is that?”
“Parental pressure to perform is a very real issue. I see it often in my practice.” I shrug. “Anxiety, burnout and mental exhaustion are pretty common in these types of situations, leading to potentially choosing a path that others may consider the easy way out.”
Callie’s father leans back in his seat, a secretive smile playing on his lips. Like he knows about our chess game.
But if respect for his daughter is on the line, I’m going to win.
I’ll make sure of it.
“Oliver,” Connie’s soprano voice cuts through the thickening air, “do you have much family in the area?”
“My parents and sister live in town.” Sitting forward, I adjust until Callie’s knee touches mine. “Apparently, my sister used to bug Callie about dating me.” Smirking at my girlfriend, I’m rewarded with her lovely blush.
Connie turns to her sister. “Is that true, Calloway?”
Callie nods. “Yep. His sister owns the pilates studio I go to. For months, all I heard about was what a great guy her brother was.” She reaches over, stealing my hand for herself and intertwining our fingers. “Turns out, she was right.”
Looking from Callie back to the rest of her family, I realize something. “Why do you all call her Calloway instead of Callie?” I ask no one in particular.
“It’s her name,” Lillian answers, polishing off her cup of coffee.
Across the room, Chris smirks. “And because she hates it.”