Chapter 5 #3
Olly’s eyes flicked to Bunny. Bunny opened her mouth, hand fluttering up—
The front door opened. Maddy whipped her head toward the sound. She heard shoes on the entryway tile, a chorus of women’s voices. A high child’s voice cutting through them all: “Bunny! We brought the sweet potato casserole!”
CoCo ran over and started yapping. Chanel stayed at Olly’s feet.
Maddy felt like she’d been gut punched. Again. Her eyes darted back to Bunny, who was still frozen in place with her hand in the air and an enormous grin on her face.
Maddy might truly kill her.
She quickly schooled her face to neutral as a series of women piled through the kitchen archway in a loose cluster.
Chloe St. Claire walked through first with an empty salad bowl and a loaf of bread from Crown Bakery, a child squirming past her with blunt-force enthusiasm before Chloe caught her by the hand, Aspen behind them carrying a casserole dish, and a woman she didn’t recognize at the rear carrying another bottle of wine.
“Surprise, sweetheart!” Bunny threw both arms in the air, absolutely beaming. “I thought we’d do a proper welcome home dinner!”
Maddy’s teeth locked down. The errands run suddenly made a lot more sense—the extra bottles of wine, the French feta, the seven chocolate croissants, the salmon filet big enough to feed a small village. She’d thought she was stocking up for the week, or maybe for one of Bunny’s social clubs.
She should have known another ambush was coming.
Not just any ambush. A St. Claire ambush.
Her quickly building rage was briefly interrupted by the fact that Aspen was wearing normal clothes. Gone were the leggings and t-shirts of her usual 10 a.m. PT call. Actual denim. A white cropped tank. Bare shoulders. A sliver of midriff on display. Not that that was at all relevant.
Maddy forced her eyes away from the exposed skin and back to Aspen’s face. Aspen was already looking at her. Maddy braced for the smirk she knew was coming. But it didn’t. Odd.
“Maddy.” Aspen gave a polite half-nod and then crossed the kitchen, setting the casserole dish on the counter and hugging her father.
Maddy absolutely refused to let her eyes follow her. She forced them to the next St. Claire.
Chloe. Aspen’s sister. She was thirteen the last time Maddy saw her—wire-frame glasses, a mouth of metal, used to follow Aspen around like a lost puppy. The woman now standing in Bunny’s kitchen had no glasses, straight white teeth, more defined features, and a child breaking free of her handhold.
Maddy didn’t spend a lot of time with kids, but she looked to be somewhere in the range of six to ten.
She had the signature St. Claire dark, wavy hair, a spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and dark brown eyes that matched Aspen’s instead of the lighter shade of Chloe and Olly’s.
And the kid’s mouth had not stopped moving since she came through the door.
“I brought Bordeaux.” The mystery woman said with a thick French accent, holding up the bottle in her hand.
“Oh! Bordeaux! How wonderful. I had Maddy pick up Chardonnay. I should have checked if you had a different preference. But the corkscrew is right over there if you want to let it breathe before dinner.” Bunny directed her towards the counter where the other five bottles were lined up.
The woman appeared to be in her forties.
Definitely a St. Claire. Same defined bone structure, same brown wavy hair—hers falling just above her shoulders—and same olive complexion, although a bit paler than the rest of the St. Claire’s.
And she was much more polished. A cream linen button-down tucked into crisp white trousers—sleeves rolled to her forearms. Tan closed-toe kitten heels with a two-inch lift that match the belt around her waist. She was immaculate. And stunning.
Bunny waved everyone in. Aspen pulled the foil back on the casserole. Chloe opened the bag of arugula and dumped it into the salad bowl she brought. The kid kneeled on the floor at Bunny’s feet to pet CoCo—who, to Maddy’s surprise, rolled over and displayed her belly.
Maddy stayed where she was on the far side of the counter and closed her eyes.
Inhale. Two. Three. Four. Hold. Relax the muscle between the brows. Release the jaw. Exhale. Two. Three. Four. It was the same protocol she ran before emergency production meetings and returning Bunny’s fifteen missed phone calls.
She opened her eyes. This was fine. She could handle this.
“Darling, come meet everyone.” Bunny waved her over.
“You remember Chloe, she was probably about this tall last time you saw her”—Bunny held her hand out at chest level—“and this is Maisie, Chloe’s daughter, you haven’t met her, isn’t she just delicious—and this is Marion, Olly’s sister, she just arrived from Paris two weeks ago, you two will get along fabulously! ”
Maisie rose from the floor where she had been petting CoCo and stood uncomfortably close to Maddy, head tilted back to look up at her.
“My mom said you produce that TV show where people get stuck on an island and have to fight to survive, and I have a lot of questions. Is the island real? Are there snakes? Do you write what the people say, or do they just say it? How come people are always crying?”
“Maisie, breathe.” Chloe said while sprinkling the feta on top of the salad.
“I am breathing. My lungs can hold a lot of air.” Maisie deadpanned, and then shifted her attention back to Maddy. “My friend Addie said her uncle knows a guy who was on a show like that and the editing made him look like an a-hole, but she’s a liar so I don’t know if it’s—”
“Maisie Odette St. Claire! Language.” Chloe said sharply across the kitchen.
Maisie rolled her eyes. “I didn’t say the actual word, Mom.”
“You’ve been spending too much time with your Aunt Aspen,” Chloe said as she put the lid back on the feta and reached for an avocado.
“No, Aunt Aspen definitely says the real word.” Maisie retorted.
Chloe shot Aspen a pointed look.
Aspen raised her hands in innocence, unable to hide her smile. “I have no idea what she’s talking about. I would never.” She looked at Maisie and put her index finger to her lips in the shush sign.
Aspen’s eyes shifted to the left and met Maddy’s gaze, then she quickly looked away. Again, odd. Earlier this week it had been all lingering eyes and smug smiles. Now she was giving her nothing.
Not that she wanted her to give her anything. But she had been prepared for Aspen’s typical behavior. She had not been prepared for…whatever this was. It was throwing her off.
She looked around the room. Everyone was chatting and laughing easily as they finished preparing dinner. Except Marion, who was currently pouring herself a glass of the Bordeaux she brought. Alcohol, yes. Fantastic idea. Maddy made a beeline towards her.
Marion glanced up as Maddy reached her, took a second glass off the counter, and filled that one too. “Your mother has terrible taste in wine,” she said in her thick accent. “This one is better,” She held it out. “Trust me, you will thank me.”
Maddy gladly took it. First useful thing that’d happened to her since she walked through the door.
* * *
Dinner was a three-act production courtesy of the Bunny Sterling Show.
Bunny had engineered the seating. She pointed at a specific chair and said, "Darling, there, please." Then proceeded to guide each person to their designated spot. Aspen was appointed the seat directly across from Maddy.
Everyone dished up their plates with salmon, sweet potato casserole, arugula and avocado salad, and bread. Bunny and Maisie carried the conversation, often overlapping at opposite ends of the table.
"Oh, Marion, you will absolutely adore San Diego.” Bunny started, unsolicited.
“You must see everything. The Midway, the zoo, Balboa Park, Mission Bay, Little Italy—oh, you’ll love Little Italy.
” Her voice dropped. "But whatever you do, do not cross the border. People will tell you you should take a day trip to Mexico because it’s so close, but Tijuana is nothing but heroin and hookers—"
“Bunny!” Chloe tilted her head towards Maisie, who had stopped her own monologuing and was now listening to Bunny’s with rapt attention.
"Sounds intriguing. I'll add it to the itinerary." Marion said with a bite of salmon.
Maddy snorted into her wine glass. She lifted her head, and her eyes met Aspen’s briefly before Aspen quickly wiped the smile from her own face and looked away.
Seriously, what was her deal?