Chapter Fifteen
Boots scuffing against the newly installed boardwalk, Ryan guided his mother past the brightly painted storefront of the Mercantile.
The setting sun cast long, amber shadows across Main Street, making the restored wood of the old buildings glow with a warmth that seemed to soften Mariah’s rigid posture.
Beside him, Quinn and Paxton walked backward, animatedly pointing out the updates and modernizing of the Mercantile to showcase souvenirs as well as antiquities of the era, and the hotel, and the saloon turned restaurant, while Morgan and Neil flanked their father, Patrick, answering a barrage of questions about the use of reclaimed materials to give the modern work an old fashioned feel.
“It really is remarkable.” Mariah’s gaze swept over the crisp lines of the hotel, a genuine smile continuing to cling to her lips. “You boys have done more than just fix some old buildings. You’ve given this place a soul again.”
Swelling with a pride that had nothing to do with construction, Ryan caught Nicole’s eye as she stepped onto the boardwalk to join them.
For dinner, she’d decided to let the ponytail loose and run a brush through her hair.
The only downside; he was dying to run his fingers through the silky strands.
Not a good idea at the moment. Instead, he focused on what was appropriate, and polite.
“Mom, Dad, this is Nicole.” Ryan took a half-step toward her, his hand finding the small of her back to guide her forward.
“She’s our new finish carpenter.” He debated saying something more, but decided now was not the time.
Especially since he and Nicole hadn’t had any chance to discuss where this thing between them was going.
Immediately, his mother’s hands shot out and clamped around Nicole’s. Her observant blue eyes took Nicole in from her sensible boots to her face. “How nice to meet you. I’ve always said they need more women on the job. Someone to keep my men in line.”
Eyes momentarily wide, Nicole nodded. “Yes, ma’am. It’s an honor to work on buildings with this much history. Especially with your sons.”
“I am very proud of them.” Mariah Farraday let go of Nicole’s hands and took a smiling step in retreat.
From Morgan to Ryan, the oldest to youngest, the brothers silently cast confused gazes in each other’s direction. Who was this pleasant woman and what had she done with their mother?
Continuing down the street, everyone reached Eloise’s new restaurant.
Inside, the scent of roasted garlic and savory herbs hit them like a physical welcome.
The interior was a masterpiece of casual elegance—dark wood tables, soft amber lighting, and the hum of a successful evening already underway.
Eloise appeared from the kitchen doorway, her chef’s whites pristine, and was immediately engulfed in a hug from her future husband.
Mariah cleared her throat and shot Quinn a tolerant glare.
“You get her all the time.” Tugging Eloise into a quick hug, Mariah smiled at everyone.
“I’m so glad to have another daughter joining the family.
And,” her hands clapped together, “this place smells absolutely heavenly. Did you make it all?”
“With help.” Eloise smiled wide but failed to hide the blush rising to her cheeks.
Maneuvering around the large table that spread across the entire backside of the restaurant, everyone took a seat, each son seated by his appropriate significant other.
Ryan happily pulled the chair out for Nicole.
He truly hoped she didn’t feel awkward or forced into a more official role.
He really did need to find some time alone to talk to her.
As the first courses arrived—creamy seafood bisque followed by platters of blackened redfish with crawfish cream sauce—the table erupted into a symphony of appreciative murmurs.
His mother, usually the most difficult critic in any room, leaned back after her third bite of the redfish and let out a soft sigh of contentment.
“I have to admit,” Mariah looked around the table at her sons and their partners, “I want y’all to know how very proud of you I am.
The town looks pretty enough on the TV show, but in person?
This is absolutely amazing. All of you have done such a terrific job.
I feel like I’ve been transported in time with all the conveniences of the modern world.
” She dabbed at the corners of her mouth. “With the best food on the planet.”
Ryan reached under the table, his fingers finding Nicole’s and giving them a slow, grateful squeeze. She returned the pressure, her thumb brushing over his knuckles in a silent promise. For a few perfect minutes, it felt as though the ghosts of the past had finally been laid to rest.
Laughing at a story Paxton was telling about a misbehaving goat, Ryan didn’t look up when the front door chimed and a new group entered the restaurant.
Folks had been coming and going all evening.
Eloise’s establishment had people driving in from as close as Tucker’s Bluff to as far away as Midland.
Stabbing at another piece of fish, his mom’s gaze lifted toward the chiming door, her expression suddenly went flat. All warmth evaporated as if a freezer door had been flung open. Her fork hit the china with a sharp, metallic ring.
Ryan followed his mother’s gaze. Standing near the hostess station, Aunt Eileen and Uncle Sean stood with Uncle Brian and Aunt Anne, chatting with the hostess. They were dressed for a night out, their expressions relaxed and happy.
“Trouble at three o’clock,” Quinn muttered, his voice barely a breath.
Ryan felt the shift in the room like a drop in barometric pressure before a storm. His mother’s spine went rigid, her hands clenching the white linen of her napkin until her knuckles turned white. Across the room, Aunt Eileen stilled, her hand moving instinctively to Uncle Sean’s arm.
The two branches of the family stared at each other across the expanse of the dining room—a gap that suddenly felt far wider than the few yards of hardwood flooring between them.
The good mood, the laughter, and the taste of the perfect meal were gone, replaced by a tension so thick it was almost hard to breathe.
“I think,” his father’s voice was low and weary as he leaned into his son’s side, “the peace just officially ended.”
“Did I mention that I noticed some inferior screws in the stall gates?”
All heads turned toward Nicole. “It won’t take much for Duke or Daisy to kick their way out of the stalls.” Tension still thick at the table, Nicole continued talking, praying for a better distraction. “As a matter of fact, earlier, Duke seemed to be acting weird.”
“Weird how?” Ryan asked.
“Well, he seemed restless, pawing at the ground. Sort of swaying a bit. He settled when I stroked him, but if he keeps it up, it wouldn’t take much for him to knock the gate right off its hinges.”
“Hmm,” one of the brothers huffed.
“I thought, after supper, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to stop by before we head home and take a look—at both Duke and the gate. I circled them in red; it should be easy to spot the problem.”
Ryan’s face went grim. “Jet or George?”
“George.”
“We’re going to have to do something about that man.” Quinn tossed his napkin on the table. “I know good help is hard to find, but this guy keeps cutting corners to save time that we haven’t asked him to save.”
“He must care more about breaking early at the end of day than about his workmanship.”
She wasn’t going to mention how condescending he was to her, but by the way Ryan’s gaze met and held hers, she was pretty sure he already had guessed that she was once again—not in so many words—told to stay in her lane.
His mom played with the food on her plate, but if Nicole had to place bets, she’d say the woman had lost her appetite.
From what she’d heard from Ryan, this whole family feud was insane.
Though she supposed if only one family was mad at the other and the other wasn’t mad at anyone, feud was probably the wrong word.
“Is anyone going to order dessert?” Valerie spoke up, obviously as interested in distracting her mother-in-law from whatever it was that had her so unhappy with the rest of the Farradays.
“Hello, Mariah. Patrick.” Aunt Eileen’s voice held more calm than anyone at the table felt. “It’s nice to see you again.”
All Ryan’s mom did was stare at her cousin-in-law and give a nod so slight, if you weren’t paying close attention, you’d have missed it.
Uncles Sean and Brian walked around the table, each one taking turns giving Patrick a back slapping hug.
Their Uncle Patrick held on to his brother Brian longer than was probably customary.
Even though Nicole barely knew Ryan’s uncle and had only now met Brian and Patrick, it was pretty obvious to her, and probably everyone at the table, that the two brothers truly cared for each other. Probably missed each other too.
Neil was the first traitor. “Nora and I need to get back to the house. We left the dog inside.” The middle brother pulled out his wife’s chair and leaning over to kiss his mother on the cheek and hug his dad, looped his arm around his wife. “We’ll catch up some more tomorrow.”
Owen and Connie were next. “We need to get back. We promised the babysitter we wouldn’t be late.”
Right about now, Nicole wished she had a dog or child she could use as an excuse to leave early.
“Why don’t the four of you take our seats?” Owen waved toward the now empty chairs.
Every person seated at the table whipped their heads around to face Owen. The snap reaction was in such synchronization it almost looked choreographed.
“You’re almost finished.” Aunt Eileen smiled. That woman was clearly the calm in the eye of the storm. “There are plenty of other tables.”
Patrick covered his wife’s hand with his, then turned to Aunt Eileen. “Please stay.”
Silent communication passed between Uncle Sean and Aunt Eileen before they turned to face Aunt Anne and Uncle Brian.
Brian heaved a low sigh and the slightest of shrugs.
Another moment and chairs were shifting and moving until everyone was freshly settled.
The silence hung over the table like a guillotine during the French Revolution.
Barely a word was spoken as the newcomers to the table examined the menus.
“The snapper is exquisite,” Paxton’s wife mentioned.
Valerie leaned forward, nodding. “Yes. I highly recommend it.”
“Thank you.” Aunt Eileen closed her menu. “I think I’ll try it.”
“Me too.” Aunt Anne closed her menu and smiled.
Under her breath, Mariah Farraday muttered, “Might as well, you try everything else.”
Ryan’s aunt’s back stiffened, but everyone who heard, politely pretended they hadn’t. His dad squeezed his mother’s hand. Whether it was in silent plea for peace or a gesture of support, Nicole had no way of guessing.
Whenever Aunt Anne found the nerve to speak up, Ryan’s mother managed to mutter something under her breath.
Most of it Nicole couldn’t hear from where she sat, but the jabs all seemed to be directed at her sister-in-law.
From what the family mentioned from time to time in her presence, none of the sons or cousins or aunts and uncles had any idea why Mariah Farraday had distanced her family from the rest of the clan, but it seemed pretty obvious to Nicole, the problem rested firmly on Anne Farraday.
Mariah did not like that woman one teeny bit.