Harkham's Choice (Harkham's Series Book 2) (9 page)

“My dad would pay for it, silly.” Zach pushed her out of the seat.

“Oooof!” She grunted as she was displaced. “Excuse me? Was I sitting in your spot?”

She shoved him, chuckling.

“Yes, you horny woman. I know you can’t wait to get laid by my brother. And while that’s cool and all that you’re a slutty mess for him, I want to make sure this announcement isn’t too ridiculous, since I’ll have to be there most likely in some tooly suit and tie.” He grinned.

“I thought you said your dad would pay for it—so if that’s the case, why check it?”

He barked a deep, booming laugh. “I’m dumb, but I’m not
that
dumb. I was only messin’ with you. I know you would never allow him to pay for that. You look like he stole your kidney each time he pays for any of the food you don’t ask for, but that he knows you eat. Like the other day—when he came back with some cottage cheese and grapes, you went all rigid the minute they came out of the grocery bag. He watches you. He knows what you enjoy eating. He’s going to buy you your favorite food the exact same way he buys mine or Sam’s or Adam’s. There’s no way you’d let him pay for anything you think you could make or pay for yourself when you two finally do get married.”

She wiped a few loose hairs off her forehead that were tickling her eyelashes. “God—am I that horrible with my poker face?”

“Yeah—pretty much.” He gave her the cross-eyes.

“At least I’m not sweating all over his nice furniture.” She pretended to be grossed out by him.

“No, just leaving puddles of your female come all over the place because Adam’s always got his hands on you, getting you off.”

She laughed. “Does not!” Another shove.

“I’m dumb, but I’m not deaf.”

She leaned into the desk. “Why do you think you’re dumb? I don’t think that about you.” Her heart sunk.

“Compared to the rest of my family, I should be in experiments for inexplicable loss of brain cells.”

“That’s called focused on girls. There’s nothing wrong with that. Adam’s right—if you applied yourself, you could do a lot better in school.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I know, but I’m not even sure I know what I want to do once I graduate. College is fine for most people, but I’m not sure what my focus would even be.”

“I know that feeling. I’m kind of there myself.” Being a teacher was out of the question.

“Well, fuck—don’t tell my dad. He’ll give you a lecture until you fall asleep on how you
do
know. He thinks deep down everyone knows what they should do for a living. As if we’re born and predispositioned to be in a certain line of work.” He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes.

“Tell him your dream is to be the ultimate garbage man since you’re constantly dealing with Sam’s messes she creates in Adam’s life,” she said, grinning.

“Right. That’ll go over well.” He chuckled and then went about rewording a few things on her announcement. “What d’you think? Better?”

She read it and smiled, her heart feeling full, yet light. “Yeah, it is. Thanks. Look at you.” She set a hand on his shoulder. “Using big words like ‘predispositioned’ and fixing unpolished, less-than-classy wedding invites. So smart.”

“Smarter than a garbage man?” He snorted a laugh.

“Obviously.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Much smarter.”

“Hey, now. That’s overstepping the lines of propriety and all that.” He scrubbed her kiss away, laughing like a dork.

“I’m sure it is, but you deserved it.” She stepped back, took another look at the invitation and said, “Feel free to fix more of it if you want to. I’m gonna go shower. Just shut this down when you’re done so Adam doesn’t see it, okay?”

“Of course. Get out of here, stinky.” He fanned in front of his nose like she reeked.

“Such a dork.” She shoved the back of his head and ran off.

* * *

Mari took a seat next to Adam for dinner, and Zach slid in on the other side of her. He elbowed her. “It’s beyond cool now. You’ll see,” he whispered. “I fixed it for you.”

She gave him the shush signal by placing her index finger over her lips and making sure Adam wouldn’t see or hear. She wasn’t ready to talk about the invitation with Adam.

“I love turkey,” Adam said with a happy sigh.

“Who doesn’t? It’s the best.” Zach plated some without permission.

Their dad took a seat at the head of the table.

Mari had no idea what to expect. She’d never actually been at a Thanksgiving dinner. So, she followed their lead.

“So, what’s your mom doing today for the holiday?” his dad asked her.

“I don’t know. She usually just orders pizza and then gets on Facebook so she can bug her friends.” Mari shrugged.

“Wait . . . You guys didn’t have turkey?” Zach’s eyes went wide.

“No. My mom hates it, and she didn’t see the need for me to cook all day for just the two of us. She said it was a waste of time, so I just usually had a salad by myself and then hung out in my room.” Mari shrunk in her seat.

“Sounds like
my
holidays growing up,” his dad said.

That was unexpected. Mari’s eyes widened.

“Really?” Zach scooped some mashed potatoes. “No wonder you never talk about this stuff from when you were a kid.”

“My situation was a little different than Mari’s, though . . .” His father grabbed some salad and put it on Adam’s plate. “My parents were both highly sought after surgeons, and they were also workaholics. It was rare they could be home for a holiday, so most of the time, we just skipped the little ones.”

“Thanksgiving’s not little,” Samara said.

“It was to them.” Their dad cleared his throat. “Now I know differently. Anything that revolves around family and us being together at the dinner table is very significant and worth making an effort for as far as I’m concerned.”

“So, today, they’re not celebrating?” Mari asked, and as soon as his face paled, she wished she hadn’t.

“They’re dead. They both passed away a few years ago. My father from a heart attack. He was actually operating on someone when it hit him. Too much stress,” their dad answered. He grabbed a glass and filled it with water, then set that in front of Adam as well. “My mom died in a car crash about a year later. Drinking and driving.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Mari said, wishing she knew what else to say. Already, she was making a mess of their special dinner. Clearly, she had no idea what was appropriate Thanksgiving dinner table talk.

“Don’t be. They never had much of a relationship with me. I decided I didn’t want that for my kids. So if I’m overbearing at times, it’s not because I’m a control freak. I just want to be involved and do what’s best for them.”

“It’s very clear you love them. I would never say anything otherwise.” Mari swallowed.

“Sure,” Samara said under her breath.

“Okay . . . Let’s bless the food and eat, shall we?” His father took the hands of his children on either side of him.

Mari followed and did the same. Who was supposed to say the prayer?

Before she could ask Adam, his father started the blessing. “We are amongst family, and that means everything to us. Bless this food, oh Lord, that it’ll bring us the nutrients we need and give us a feeling of peace as we partake of it together. Bless those who prepared it, especially our Sammie, who tries very hard to keep this family together. Amen.”

“Amen,” they all said, including Mari.

She got a little teary eyed, knowing that she was kind of included in that prayer in a way since she’d made the dressing and the gravy.

Adam reached for the very thing she made and smothered it in her gravy, along with his turkey and mashed potatoes.

“I love stuffing, and Mari will eat it with us, since she made it and because I keep making sure she eats sugar and white flower now.” Adam beamed at her.

“Yeah, of course, I will,” she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper.

She had yet to put an ounce of food on her plate.

“Eat up, girl. No dieting allowed today,” Zach told her, putting a heap of green beans on her plate. “You heard the man—white flour, sugar and tons of fatty food. Mmmm.” His eyes lit up. “That’s what today’s all about—forget family. I’m here to stuff my face ‘til I can barely walk.” He chuckled.

She held up a hand. “That’s more than enough, thank you.”

“No way! These green beans are the best. You need more.” He went for another spoonful, but she took it out of his hand and served him some instead.

“Quit being so shy about food, and I won’t have to snitch on your covert operations.” Zach smirked at her.

She kicked him under the table. “Who’s shy?”

“Not you—clearly. Any higher, and you would’ve crippled me by hitting my boys.”

“They don’t hang down that low,” his sister said, snorting.

“Sure do. I can prove it,” Zach said, pretending to stand up like he was about to drop his pants.

“No one cares about how well-endowed you think you are, Zachary, so keep your ass in your seat,” his dad said.

Mari choked on a laugh and a gasp. His father never cursed, and he just said “ass.” She was feeling a little more at home now that the profanities were out.

“Psht! Everyone cares. Just the other day, this chick at school was telling this other girl about my junk. I had to tell her she was being conservative. She didn’t believe me, but I—”

“
Zach
,” his dad warned through a laugh. He shook his head, too, like he couldn’t believe his silly son. “How was your football game?”

“Awesome, of course. I wasted the other team.” Zach stuffed some turkey into his mouth. “They didn’t stand a chance against me. I was the biggest guy there.”

“And the loudest, no doubt,” Samara said, stabbing at her salad.

“All sorts of happy, though—like you, little nugget.” He stole a tomato off his sister’s salad and popped it in his mouth.

Samara laughed. “I’m
always
cheerful.”

Yes, yes. You’re as cheerful as a clown that’s been stabbed by a disgruntled, fellow clown car driver.

Mari forced herself to keep quiet so she wouldn’t make any of the snide comments that were circulating in her head about that ridiculous comment Samara made. It would only be lowering herself to Samara’s level. She refused to do that.

Instead, she focused on eating her turkey smothered in gravy.

She licked her lips—both were so good.

How many times had she wished as a kid that she had an average American Thanksgiving dinner? After several years of being disappointed, she simply gave up on that hope.

Yet, here she was, surrounded by yummy food, good people and lighthearted conversation. What else could she ask for?

“So . . .” Zach sighed. “Mari’s super talented.”

“I didn’t cook this food, Samara did. And she did a fabulous job,” Mari said, on edge. There was no way she was even going to take credit for the dressing she’d stuffed the turkey with and the gravy she’d made. Anyone could make stuffing and gravy. It wasn’t hard.

“That’s not what I’m talking about, but good job on the gravy, though. It’s killer. Tcht!” He clicked his tongue and timed it with his wink at the end.

“Stop. It,” she said under her breath, bending her neck toward him so no one could see her talking to him.

“She’s very talented. Everything she does is beautiful,” Adam said, reaching over and stroking her arm.

“Yes, she is indeed,” his dad agreed.

What talents could either of them be talking about?

“She has a way of seeing the good in others and bringing it out in them,” his dad said.

Her face heated. “I do?” she blurted.

“Yes, young lady—very much so. I could tell you all about the glowing remarks Dr. Harkham made about you, but I have since discovered them for myself, and more besides.”

“I . . . Okay,” was all she could say.

“Dr. Harkham told me last week when I saw her that she chooses Mari for me, and that I made an excellent choice by picking her as well,” Adam announced with a winning grin.

Mari’s cheeks heated even more and so did the back of her neck and the top of her chest.

“I forgot the napkins,” Samara said, pushing off from the table and abruptly leaving the room.

“While nugget’s gone, just let me tell you—Mari’s made these cool wedding invitations for herself and Adam. She’s thrifty, smart and kind. It’s not really fair that she doesn’t have a sister,” Zach said, giving her a look of sisterly adoration.

She wanted to hug him, but that seemed wrong somehow in this atmosphere.

Adam’s fork clinked on his plate. She was afraid to look at him, so she stared at her plate of food instead.

“I want to see,” Adam said.

“It’s not ready yet,” she replied, hanging her head a little.

“I don’t care. I wanna see,” Adam repeated, sounding crestfallen over the idea she might not share it with him.

“Maybe later.” Her voice trailed off.