to help.”
“You’ve made me drop the dinner.” Tears came to her eyes. She slammed her wineglass down on the table; drops of red splashed onto her beige linen place mat.
Daddy stood up. “No big deal, here.” He grabbed a large napkin, picked up the roast with it and placed the meat back on the platter.
Peyton’s mouth hung open, his bourbon highball glass in midair.
Daddy took a knife, cut off the back portion of the roast and disappeared into the kitchen, then quickly returned. “Okay, good as new. The neighborhood dogs will have the perfect meal tonight, and we’ll get the part that never touched the ground.”
“I’ll clean that up,” I said, and went to the kitchen for a towel and carpet cleaner. When I came back into the dining room, everyone was sitting and a place mat covered the stain.
Daddy motioned for me to sit. “We’ll clean it all later. Let’s eat this delicious meal Deirdre has prepared for us.”
After Brian had blessed the food and the awkward silence melted, conversation began again. Daddy asked Peyton who he was paired with for the pro-am. Brian wanted to know about the concert.
“It was great,” I said. “You should’ve seen it.” My gaze caught Peyton’s.
“Tell me about it,” he said, “I haven’t heard that band in years.”
“They’re quite good. So, Brian, tell us how the malpractice suit is coming along.”
He shrugged. “Just doing it to pay the bills . . . nothing near as interesting as hearing about the Sullivan boys. Don’t change the subject.”
“Really, it’s not that interesting,” I said. “Jimmy is still loud and funny and large—larger than life. Jack looks different—longer hair, beard. But not so different you wouldn’t recognize him. They started this band about five years ago to raise money for a foster home in Texas. And . . . that’s about it.”
“What about sweet Mrs. Sullivan?” Deirdre’s sarcastic tone cut through the room.
“She was sweet,” I said.
“That’s what I just said.” Deirdre took a bite of her roast.
“That’s not what you meant, though.” I glanced at Daddy.
Brian touched my leg, his signal to let it go.
“Anyway,” I said, “Jack really didn’t say what she was doing. I guess I should’ve asked.”
“Especially since you spent so much time with them.” Peyton leaned back in his chair, lifted his eyebrows at me.
We all turned and stared at him, mouths open, but it was Daddy who spoke first. “So, Peyton, how was this last tournament? Did you move up in the rankings?”
He shook his head, lifted his glass. “Fell, actually. But I’ll make up for it next week. You’ll be there, right?” He nodded toward me.
“Of course.”
Deirdre reached across me. “Kara, please pass the potatoes and finish your story.”
“There’s nothing more to tell.” I took a bite of carrots.
“Well, I’m sure there is,” Deirdre said. “What did the music sound like? What did Jack have to say about his past, where they’ve been? How much he loves you.”
“What?” I gripped my fork tighter, tried to swallow.
“That boy has been in love with you since first grade. Surely that much hasn’t changed.” She looked at Peyton.
“A lot has changed.” My teeth clenched, my jaw tightened.
“Well, if Peyton can have his little secrets about all his past almost-wives, I guess you can have yours.”
Daddy stood now. “Deirdre, I believe you’ve had a wee bit too much of that red wine there. Why don’t you excuse yourself and take a break from all this work you’ve done tonight?”
Deirdre stood, but she didn’t move to leave. Then her hand flew over her mouth and she ran from the room. In the silence, as we all stared at each other, the sound of retching came from the kitchen.
“Nice,” Brian said, and stood. He looked down at Peyton. “Well, I’m so glad you could join us for a nice family dinner. Want to go to the Oyster Shack with me, grab a beer?”
I wanted to bury my face in the tablecloth.
Peyton came to my side. “Brian, you stay, but Kara, I think I should leave now. Call me when things . . . settle down.”
At the front door, I hugged him, kissed him. “Let me go talk to Deirdre. I’m sorry she was so brutal to you. She didn’t mean it.”
He grabbed my shoulders, looked into my eyes. “Yes, she did mean it, and I should’ve told you about my engagements a long, long time ago.”
“Yes, but she didn’t need to unload on you. I love you. I’ll call you in a little bit.”
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