Chapter 17
L ess than fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rang.
I had only heard it once or twice before, and I hadn’t realized how loud it would sound in the kitchen—but it made sense when I thought about it.
Edna spent much of her time in here.
Although the mansion didn’t seem to get many unannounced visitors, she would have to be able to hear the doorbell when they did and I wondered where else that sound was amplified throughout the mansion.
Sinclair said, “Would you like to come with me to greet the family or—”
“As much as I’d like to, I need to finish a few things.”
“Of course.”
But I’d been lying.
I could have dropped what I was doing to go to the door with him, but I was feeling nervous.
Even though I’d already met these people before, I hadn’t seen them in private—and knowing that there had been a few contentious moments in public in a restaurant, I suspected tempers could flare much more in the open air of the mansion.
Besides, I knew I didn’t belong here.
Even though I’d grown far more accustomed to Sinclair and his wealth, I was a square peg.
I could pretend, of course, by wearing diamond earrings and keeping my mouth shut for the most part, but I knew…
and I’d soon be returning home.
It wasn’t long before I heard several voices wafting in from the antechamber, but they didn’t grow clearer until they were moving down the main hallway and getting closer to the west rear hall.
As I heard them approaching, I busied myself as I finished carving a few more slices off the turkey, hoping I appeared natural.
I heard what I thought was the voice of one of Sinclair’s brothers as they rounded the corner.
“It looks fantastic, Sin.”
“I can’t take any credit. That’s all thanks to Lise and Edna.”
Then I heard another cacophony of voices, but I couldn’t distinguish them.
Soon, they stood in the west rear hallway getting ready to enter the dining room.
Sinclair peeked his head in the doorway.
“Lise, would you come here for a second?”
I looked up, hoping my appearance was satisfactory, and I put on the sweetest smile I could as I crossed over to the doorway.
“Hi. So good to see you.” It was Augustus, who I was going to call Augie in my head, and Vivian—and three children I assumed belonged to them, but I didn’t want to say so.
As I approached, Sinclair’s oldest brother gave me a nod, but Vivan actually gave me a hug.
She said, “These are our children, Augustus, Olivia, and Evelyn.”
Although I wasn’t certain, the youngest Augustus appeared to be twelve or thirteen while the girls looked to be in elementary school.
All three children looked like the perfect mix between the Whittiers’s strong jawline and dark brown hair and Vivian’s fine, thin appearance.
“Are they twins?” I asked, marveling at how the two girls looked so much alike.
“They are,” said Vivian, obviously in love with her children.
“And that’s why we decided they would be the last,” her husband said.
The children all nodded, polite but unnaturally quiet.
Vivian said, “And this is Lise, Uncle Sinclair’s…friend.”
That label sounded good to me—and, fortunately, Sinclair changed the conversation’s focus.
“They brought a Riesling, so I’m going to add it to the bucket.” He held up a bottle of wine to show me what he was referencing.
He’d already chosen a pinot noir for dinner—but I suspected this family might make short work of both bottles.
I would not be drinking.
“Where should we sit?” Augustus asked, following Sinclair into the dining room.
“Can I help with anything?” Vivian asked me, immediately endearing her to me.
For a brief second, I thought she might make a nice ally or possibly a good friend in this intimidating family—but I wouldn’t be here much longer, so there was no sense trying to make it happen.
“Oh, thank you so much. I’m just about done here.”
“Well, the offer stands.” With that, she left the kitchen, ushering her children into the dining room.
And I let out the breath I’d been holding tightly in my lungs.
When the doorbell rang again, I wondered if I should get it, but Sinclair quickly left the dining room to take care of it.
As he whisked by the kitchen, he glanced at me and I thought I saw him give me a quick wink.
It wasn’t long before the eldest Augustus and his wife Madeline were being escorted to the dining room—but they didn’t peek in the kitchen.
Instead, the kids approached their grandmother and gave her hugs while she doted on them.
Again, it was the wife of a Whittier who, by a simple action, earned my adoration.
It seemed from my spot in the kitchen that Augustus begrudgingly accepted hugs from the children.
Maybe he just didn’t have it in himself.
After a few more minutes, Sinclair appeared in the kitchen.
“Ready to join us?”
As I approached him, I lowered my voice.
“Shouldn’t we wait for Warren?”
“I don’t think he’s coming. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s blown a holiday dinner off.”
I nodded, following him into the dining room.
Once again, I felt so out of place, mainly now that I realized what I wore didn’t quite match the level of the family.
Sinclair had also worn a sweater in a cerulean shade that made his eyes appear lighter, but the Augustuses, including the youngest, wore suits, and Madeline, Vivian, and the twin girls wore dresses.
Still, because Sinclair and I felt like we were paired in solidarity, I tried not to let it bother me.
On one side of the table, the three children stood behind chairs as if waiting for the order to be seated.
Augustus had his hand on the back of the chair where Sinclair had always sat—and Sinclair said, “We’ll have you seated over there, dad.”
At the other end near the windows— not the seat he’d been intending to take.
Once more, I felt the air refusing to leave my body as my lungs clung to it as if they’d never breathe again.
Would this begin the first of many skirmishes throughout the day?
But his father surprised me as he nodded and moved to the other end of the table, and it was hard to tell from his expression how he felt about it.
As Madeline followed, choosing the chair directly next to him opposite the side of the table where the children stood, Sinclair’s brother said, “Are you okay if we all sit on this side?”
“That’s fine.”
And that meant that I’d be able to sit in the chair where I usually did—and there would be two empty chairs between Madeline and me, reserved for our last two guests who might not appear.
Sinclair’s father said, “Is Warren coming?”
“I have no idea. He was planning to.”
“Is he bringing someone?”
Sinclair’s voice remained steady, despite the barrage of questions.
“I told him he could bring someone, but I don’t know.”
Augustus shifted his focus.
“Junior, why don’t you sit by your grandma?”
Sinclair’s brother didn’t seem too happy that his father was telling his child what to do, but he didn’t say a word.
It wasn’t until that moment that I realized they were all cowed by the head of the family.
But, as the youngest Augustus scooted his chair out, his father did speak.
“Why don’t we have him stay where he is—in case Warren shows up late?”
The eldest Augustus acted like he was going to say something and then stopped himself.
Sinclair, still standing, said, “As I mentioned before, this is going to be a traditional meal. You’ll find drinks over here,” he said, sweeping his arm toward the sideboard, “but you’ll want to bring your plate to the kitchen to fill up buffet-style.”
This was the moment I’d been dreading—these people used to being served hand and foot and the finest foods.
What would they think about getting their food buffet style?
Once again, his family surprised me.
Everyone picked up their plate and headed toward the kitchen, with a few exceptions.
Vivian and her husband went to the kitchen without their plates, seeming to want to help the twins fill their plates first, and the oldest Augustus uncorked one of the bottles of wine.
I wasn’t sure if he planned on filling up his own plate or if he’d intended to have his wife do it, and I almost asked if he wanted me to do it for him.
I had to bite my tongue, because willingly serving my father’s enemy would have been far worse than what I’d already done.
I headed to the kitchen, partly to be away from that man, because he made me nervous—but I also wanted to be near the food in case anyone needed anything or had a question.
And that turned out to be a good idea.
Vivian asked, “Do any of the dishes have peanuts?”
Sinclair said, “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot to warn Lise about that.” He shot a glance at me.
“The twins are allergic.”
I scoured my brain, trying to remember ingredients, and found it easier to walk down the table, visually assessing each dish.
When I got to the end of the table, I said, “Nothing here has any nuts.”
“Pecan pie?”
“No.”
“Perfect. Thank you.” Vivian glanced at Sinclair.
“You dodged a bullet.”
“I did.” Once again, he winked at me—and then the doorbell rang.
“I’m betting that’s Warren…just in time to be fashionably late.”
His brother said, “I wonder what statement he’s trying to make now.”
Madeline and the eldest Augustus entered and Madeline won my heart when she said, “It smells wonderful in here.”
“Thank you.”
As she took in the table full of various dishes, she added, “And it looks even better.”
Her husband didn’t say a word, but I hadn’t expected him to.
Unfortunately, I felt like I knew him better than anyone else in the family, save Sinclair—but it was mostly information I shouldn’t have been privy to.
But between my father’s well-founded opinion of the eldest Whittier intermingled with Constance’s account, I didn’t care for the man, especially when I added in Sinclair’s recollections of his childhood.
He was a bad person, which was more than I could say for most people.
The kids who had bullied me growing up were mostly reacting to what their parents had told them about my family, and their parents were angry and afraid.
Although I wouldn’t necessarily befriend any of them, because they allowed their baser selves to rule their lives and, in the process, treated me horribly, I could at least understand their point of view.
Sinclair had helped with that…
helped soften my edges—and I suspected it was because of how we’d grown to know and then love each other.
But his father…
what motivated him?
Was it greed?
Lust for power?
And out of everything I knew about him, I couldn’t pinpoint one good or selfless thing about him.
In my book, he was a lost cause.
So I really didn’t care if he didn’t like the food today.
Just as Augie, Vivian, and their kids were heading to the dining room, the noise swelled in the rear hall as Warren and a woman entered the kitchen in front of Sinclair.
Unlike his father and older brother, Warren’s attire was more casual, consisting of a pale green long-sleeved cotton pullover shirt.
His date wore jeans and a red V-neck sweater with furry black high-heeled boots and big hoop earrings.
Her short blonde hair was almost platinum, juxtaposed against dark eye makeup and metallic silver lipstick.
She was gorgeous, but I got the vibe that her background was more like mine, mostly based on the way she spoke.
But she was loud.
“Oh, my god! This smells just like my mom’s kitchen.” Grabbing Warren’s arm, she said, “Did you tell them, by the way?”
Sinclair’s eyebrows shot up as if he dreaded what they were going to say—but it turned out to be fairly tame.
Warren said, “No, I forgot. We’ll be leaving here kind of early so we can catch dinner with her family later.”
Although his face was calm, Sinclair’s shoulders relaxed, but I was the only one who noticed.
Vivian and her husband came back into the kitchen to fill up their plates.
Warren said, “Augie! Viv! Good to see you guys!”
“You too.”
“Oh, yeah. Everybody, this is Mariah.” And then he went through everyone else to introduce them, but he paused when he got to me.
“What was your name again?”
“Lise.”
Smiling, he nodded his head.
“Lise, Sinclair’s girlfriend.”
Although I could practically feel the blood draining from my face, it was interesting to hear someone give me that title.
Sinclair had only ever referred to me as his employee or date .
But perhaps girlfriend was how I was perceived…
and somehow that warmed my heart.
But what would Sinclair think?
When I looked at him for his reaction, his warm smile told me he too was okay with that.
Warren asked, “You guys brought the kids, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Vivian answered.
“They’re in the dining room.”
Looking at Sinclair, Warren asked, “Who catered?”
Sinclair shook his head.
“It’s not catered. Lise and Edna made the meal.”
Warren didn’t say a word but his expression and quick nod told me he was intrigued.
Finally, we were all seated in the dining room—Mariah next to me and Warren on her other side, and I hoped I could sort of melt into the background.
Being around Sinclair’s family made me ridiculously anxious and I didn’t know if I’d be able to eat.
Little did I know the fun was just beginning…