Chapter 1 #2
“What’s the matter, Simon? Still scared of the old place?” Duncan teases, eyeing his brother.
“Fuck you,” Simon grunts.
“What’s the matter?” Duncan laughs.
“Scared?” I ask, watching Simon. The room falls silent, all eyes on me. Simon straightens. Rachelle brushes my arm with her hand.
“Ignore them,” Pierce says firmly, still standing by Preston near the middle of the hall.
“Ignore him,” Simon agrees, pinning Duncan with a glare. “When I was young, my brothers used to tease me about the guest house being haunted. You know, because they’re assholes.”
Duncan’s face splits into a grin so wide it must hurt. “Were we teasing, though? Or is that just what you tell yourself so the nightmares stop?”
“Enough,” Rachelle says, her voice firm. “We don’t have time for this. Let’s get your bags put away and sit down for lunch, okay? Caleb had Camille leave us plenty of meals for the week.”
Simon glances back at our bags where he left them by the door, and Rachelle reads his expression easily.
“All-hands-on-deck this week, remember? No staff. It won’t kill you.”
With that, Marlie drapes an arm through mine, and we follow the rest of the Mornings out of the hallway.
“Welcome home,” she whispers, giving me teasing eyes.
I smile, wondering if it’ll ever really feel like my home too.
We’re all around the table dining on Tuscan chicken sandwiches when Rachelle reveals that we’ll be drawing for which room will be our responsibility to clean and prepare for the wedding.
She brings out a blue wineglass filled with wooden coffee stirrers.
“And before we start, I just want to say thank you to all of you again. If there were any other choice, we’d…
well, of course, we’d figure something else out.
It’s just, you know, the short notice and terrible timing…
” She looks down, not finishing her thought. “So, here we go.”
“Can’t we just call dibs or something?” Simon asks, brows drawn down. “We’re not toddlers.”
“Oh, really? Could’ve fooled me,” Marlie teases.
“Hey. Look. Out of the kindness of our hearts, we’ll let Marlie scrub the toilets,” Duncan says, hand to his chest.
“You, my sons, all are really, very funny. This is the fairest way,” Rachelle says, holding the cup out and giving it a shake. “Bride first.”
Without caution, Marlie’s hand darts forward and she retrieves a stick, pulling it back to her. “I got number three. What’s that?”
“Oh, right. One second.” Pierce pulls his glasses from the pocket of his dress shirt, leaning back to decipher a document on his phone. “That would be…the sunroom for cocktail hour.”
Marlie looks pleased, relaxing back in her seat.
The glass is held out to Warren, her fiancé, next.
Warren is Korean, with perfect skin and a kind smile.
Most often, he’s staring at Marlie with an expression that makes me think he still hasn’t accepted she’s actually marrying him.
I get the impression he’s waiting for her to say it’s all been an elaborate prank.
“Groom next,” Rachelle says.
Warren pulls a stick and glances at Pierce. “Eight.”
Pierce checks the list. “That’s the…oh, lucky. The basement, which you’ve already started on for the women’s dressing room.”
“Make it nice for me, babe.” Marlie leans across and kisses his cheek.
It continues like that, Rachelle passing the cup from person to person as we all choose which task we’ll be assigned to.
Duncan’s wife, Victoria, chooses the dining room and kitchen to decorate for the rehearsal dinner.
Duncan draws the landscaping. Preston is assigned the entire top floor, which will be used for the men’s dressing room, and his wife, Polly, will be setting up for the ceremony outside.
When it comes to us, Simon draws the stick for the guest rooms, cleaning them up for anyone who might stay at the house.
There are just two sticks left. Rachelle sticks her hand in the cup, mixing them up thoroughly, then withdraws her hand.
She told us earlier she won’t be drawing, since she’ll need to coordinate and oversee the entire project, stepping in where needed.
I pull my stick out without much thought, reading the number aloud. “Six.”
Pierce checks his list. “The guest house. For the reception.”
Next to me, I swear I feel Simon straighten. The guest house. That’s…a lot.
“Excellent,” Rachelle says. “The movers will do the heavy lifting, of course. We’ll just have you box everything up and clean and decorate once it’s empty.”
“What? Everyone else got rooms.” Simon gives a disbelieving laugh under his breath. “You can’t expect Astrid to clean an entire house. It’s at least a two-person job.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. It’s basically one room,” Pierce says, dismissing his concerns with a flick of his wrist.
“Yeah.” I jump to agree. “I’m sure I can manage. It’s fine, Simon. I want to help. I’d rather be busy than restless. Seriously, it’s fine.”
Pierce nods. “See, she’ll be fine. And, of course, we can have someone else chip in if needed.” He pauses, studying his list again. “That leaves me with setting up the theater for the wedding video.” He puts a fist in the air as if at a protest. “Teamwork.”
When I meet Simon’s eye, cold dread washes through me. I’ll be spending the week in the guest house alone, which normally wouldn’t bother me. I meant it when I said I want to help—I do. I like working, helping. Feeling part of something. Part of them.
But clearly, it bothers him. And I think his issue stems from somewhere deeper than just the size of the job.
Why?
When Rachelle meets my eyes, it’s with an encouraging smile on her lips, and I do my best to smile back, even as the dread sinks deeper into my core.