Chapter 8 #2
The lattice design on top is so precise I think Mom must have measured each line. It looks better than anything store-bought, and I know it tastes better too, with a perfect buttery pastry that crumbles and melts in the mouth.
Mia gets to her feet to snap a couple of photos, then sits back down. “By the way, I’m having Hudson’s portion. He told me earlier that he’d prefer a small, low-fat yogurt instead.”
“As if,” Hudson rumbles, and we all laugh.
Dad cuts the pie and hands it out. It’s still warm, and when a scoop of Mom’s homemade vanilla ice cream melts on top of my slice, my mouth waters even more.
My hand inches toward my spoon, but I force myself to wait until everyone is served.
“Eat! Don’t wait!” Mom says to me and Brody.
“I don’t need to be told twice,” Brody says with a smile and we dig in as if we’re starving.
As the cool creaminess of the ice cream and the slight tartness of the soft blueberries hit my tongue, I moan with appreciation before I can stop myself.
Brody’s spoon makes a clanking noise as it crashes into his bowl.
“Yummy, yummy, in my tummy!” Martha shouts, breaking the silence.
Mia stares at me from across the table, a knowing smirk on her lips.
I glare at her and give a tiny shake of my head.
She gets the message and turns to Mom. “Are these the blueberries we picked on Labor Day weekend?”
“Sure are, honey. And we’ve still got nearly a hundred pounds left in the freezer in the basement.”
As Mia and my mom chat blueberry recipes, I sense Ethan’s eyes on me and Brody. It’s the kind of scrutiny I’d rather avoid. He’s a search and rescue pilot, but if he wasn’t being a hero on a daily basis, I bet he would have joined the FBI.
“What are your plans now you’re back?” he asks Brody.
“Just hanging out,” I reply as Brody finishes his mouthful. “See what’s going on in town.”
“There’s the Santa Fun Run tomorrow,” Harper says. “Lots of guys from Hudson’s station are doing it, so I’m going to cheer them on.”
“Then there’s caroling in the town square late afternoon,” Dad adds. “Another live music event at The Shore Thing, and the ice carving competition up at the estate.”
“Are you doing the fun run?” Mia asks Hudson.
His mouth is full of pie, so he shakes his head.
“Oh, I forgot, you don’t do fun.”
He finishes his mouthful and rolls his eyes. “I’m saving myself for the woolen sock running championships on Sunday.”
“That’s still going on?” Brody asks.
“Yep,” Hudson replies. “I came in second last year.” He shoots a look at Mia, and she lowers her gaze to her pie. “So this year I’m going to win it.”
“Did you knit your own socks?” Brody continues.
“I did,” Mom says proudly.
The sock-running championships are one of Hideaway’s more bizarre traditions, inspired by the ones in Finland.
The races are held either around the Locke Family Reserve or up in the mountains if there isn’t enough snow.
One of the rules is that participants must wear hand-knitted socks, or a pair made right here in Hideaway Harbor.
“You’re not joining?” Hudson asks Mia.
“I’m taking photos for The Almanac.”
“Then make sure you’re at the finish line to capture my victory,” he says with a grin. He glances at Brody. “You want in?”
Brody shakes his head. “I’ve never tried sock running before, but I’ll be there to support you.” He turns to me. “If that’s okay with you?”
My cheeks heat. “Of course.” It’s weird enough that he’s sitting here after all these years, but deferring to me as if we’re a unit is even stranger.
Ethan’s eyes narrow slightly as he looks at me.
Shit!
I catch Mia’s eye, trying to communicate telepathically, and she claps her hands. “I need to take a family photo now that you’re all here!”
“Doesn’t that wait until Christmas Eve?” Hudson asks.
“This is an informal one. Do you need time to do something with your hair?”
Hudson’s hand moves to his head, and he frowns as she giggles. His hair is short, with never a strand out of place. If he hadn’t become a firefighter, he definitely would have joined the military.
“I think a photo is a lovely idea,” Mom says, then dabs at her mouth with a napkin. “Let’s clear the table first, and I’ll put a pot of coffee on.”
Brody leaps to his feet. “Please, let me help clean up.”
Mom hesitates. She doesn’t like giving up control around the house, but she’s learning. “Okay, then. But I’ll make the coffee.”
“We can do it,” Ethan says. “Why don’t you and Dad take Martha?”
“Yes, Grandma!” Martha says. “We need to put our feet up.”
“And maybe read a story, sweetheart?” Mom suggests.
Martha fist pumps, then lifts her arms up to Ethan, who lifts her off the booster seat and sets her on the floor. She takes Mom’s hand and leads her toward the family room.
Brody and I go to the kitchen and start loading the dishwasher. He hasn’t been in this house for twelve years, but he seems to remember exactly how Mom likes it stacked and where things go.
“Some things never change, huh?” Ethan says to him as he loads a serving dish in the top rack.
The words are mild, but with my older brother, each syllable is measured. He’s never been one to waste words or run his mouth, so Brody knows, as do I, how this seemingly innocuous sentence is loaded with meaning.
Brody stills, then nods.
“You should come around to mine one night,” Ethan continues. “Watch the game.”
“Sure,” Brody replies, his voice neutral. “I’d like that.”
“Ooh, Ethan!” Harper says, grabbing his arm. “I forgot. I have a new creation to show you. I think it’s the perfect men’s cologne!”
She pulls him out of the kitchen, and Brody’s gaze follows them, a frown on his face.
Hudson gives us a sympathetic smile. “He’ll come around. It’s just been a shock, that’s all.”
I nod, guilt eating at my insides, as Brody glances back at me.
We finish up in the kitchen, then Mia herds us into the family room in front of the fireplace.
“Think of this as just a bit of fun, informal practice for Christmas Eve, when I’ve got my proper camera,” she says, steering Dad to the back row behind Mom.
He dips his head to kiss Mom’s cheek, and she smiles, leaning back into him.
I know they’re my parents, and I should be gagging, but seeing the love between them makes me happy.
They were lucky to find their person while they were still in school, and their love has only grown over the years. It’s inspirational, even though it often feels like an impossibly high bar to clear.
“Brody, go behind Piper,” Mia says.
We both hesitate at the same time, and I sense Ethan’s pointed gaze on us again.
I quickly shuffle back until I feel the warmth of Brody’s body behind me, but don’t move any further, so we’re not actually touching.
“Now put your arms around her,” Mia continues.
I can’t feel Brody moving. What should I do?
Mia huffs. “Call yourself an actor? You’re not very good at taking direction.”
I freeze, immediately paranoid that everyone knows Brody is only pretending to be my boyfriend. Then I grab his arm and put it over my shoulder.
“That’s better!” Mia calls out. “Now the other one.”
Brody complies, and suddenly the whole back of my body is flush against the front of his. I’m stiff at first, but the heat from him radiates through me, unwinding the tension in my muscles until I melt against him. It’s the most delicious guilty pleasure, and I don’t want it to end.
Mia’s usually super-efficient when she works, but right now she’s messing around with the people around us, rearranging them again and again while Brody and I stay locked together, a still point in the hubbub.
Only when Hudson pulls out his phone to take a selfie of us all does she stop fussing and step back to take the photo.
“Say ‘true love,’” she cries.
“True love,” Brody rumbles in my ear, and I shiver.
How can I make this moment last? It feels so right, even though I know it’s so wrong.
Eventually, Mia finishes snapping pictures and dips her head to look at the screen.
“If I ignore Hudson,” she says, grinning, “you all look gorgeous.”
“What’s wrong with Uncle Hudson, Aunt Mia?”
“Well, he—”
“Absolutely nothing,” Hudson cuts in. “Aunt Mia just can’t handle perfection.”
“Are you perfect?” Martha continues, her eyes wide.
Hudson’s “yes” is immediately drowned out by all our shouts of “no.”
“I think that’s our cue to get you home,” Ethan says to Martha.
She pouts. “But Daddy! We’ve just got here!”
He gently sweeps a lock of blonde hair from her forehead. “It’s way past your bedtime already, pumpkin, and you can see everyone tomorrow.”
Her lower lip wobbles, but she nods. She knows Ethan loves her to the moon and back, but she also knows that when he sets a boundary, it’s not going anywhere.
Before long, it’s just Brody and me with my parents, and when they decide to turn in early, I know the inevitable can’t be put off any longer. We’ve got to find a way to sleep apart without anyone knowing.
My folks are over the moon that we’re no longer staying at the hotel, and they follow us all the way up to my childhood room. I’m small enough to fit on the daybed, which will help with any awkwardness, but when I push open the door and step through, my stomach drops.
The room has been completely remodeled. The old wallpaper, stained from where teenage me had stuck up posters, has been replaced with a delicate floral design that I can’t help but love.
My old bed has been replaced with a queen-sized one, and the white counterpane is strewn with hundreds of pink rose petals.
And the daybed Mia used to sleep on when we were kids? The one piece of furniture my fake relationship with Brody can’t function without?
Gone.