for the world. For some strange reason he felt an odd kinship with these people, and it had nothing to do with the fact that they shared blood. He couldn’t quite figure it out, but between the time he’d received the invitation to when he parked the Honda and began walking up toward the house, he suspected it had something to do with the new book percolating in his brain. The book he would get down to seriously working on over the next couple of weeks, once he’d turned in his current project to The Atlantic. It was the first time a project had excited him in a long while—since he’d finished writing The Buffalo Hunter—and he enjoyed the way his mind kept disappearing down rabbit holes, developing the backstory before he’d written a word.
He didn’t knock but just walked in, and he heard the sounds of a large gathering as he made his way down the hallway toward the dining room. Before stepping out of the dimly lit hall and into a room crowded with relatives, he stopped and listened to his family talk. It was the typical stuff—work, politics, church, sports, bills. The things a normal family would discuss at the dinner table. He couldn’t figure out how he felt about that until he realized he was smiling.
When he walked into the room he saw that Edward was true to his word. The place was filled. The dining room had long been the focal point of the home. A table that could seat twenty comfortably dominated it—and it spoke to the age of the house, to a time that placed greater importance on the gathering of the family around the table. And gather they had; it appeared to CJ that nearly every seat was occupied, and that the collection of relatives included people whose names he couldn’t recall at first glance.
Uncle Edward, who had doubtless been watching for him, spotted him first, and CJ noticed the empty chair next to him, close to the head of the table at which sat CJ’s father. The food was already on the table, which was what CJ was aiming for when he chose to arrive fifteen minutes late. While he was okay eating with these people, he had little desire to engage in any pre-dinner mingling.
Everyone else had noticed him now, and as he walked around the table to get to his spot, he fielded a flurry of handshakes and warm greetings. Most had not seen him since Sal’s funeral, and his conversations were limited that day, so this was the first occasion for most of the more distant relatives to interact with him.
It was as he was trying to disengage his hand from the hand of one of his second cousins that he saw Julie. She sat at the other end of the table, talking to the person seated next to her—another of CJ’s cousins—and almost as soon as his eyes found her, she looked his way. Just for a split second, and then she was gone.
He extricated himself from his cousin’s handshake and slipped into the chair next to Edward, who slapped CJ on the back, so hard it nearly brought tears to his eyes.
“Glad you could make it,” Edward said.
CJ tried to respond but all that came out was a cough.
“Sorry about that,” Edward said, once he realized what he’d done.
CJ waved him off and reached for his water glass, taking a long drink. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Julie looking his way, the hint of a smile on her lips.
Years ago CJ’s grandmother would have been responsible for the feast spread out on the table. But she’d died the year before he left for Vanderbilt.
“Who cooked?” he asked his uncle.
“Meredith and Julie,” Edward answered.
The first time CJ met his brother’s wife was at the funeral, and they’d spoken only briefly. But if half of what was spread out on the table was her doing, then he decided Graham had married well. And he already knew that Ben had hit the jackpot, regardless of how good a cook Julie was.
“Hey, little brother,” Graham said, flashing CJ his warm campaign smile. The serving dishes had already made the rounds, and Graham’s plate was piled high. With ham as the entrée, Graham took it upon himself to slice a generous slab for CJ.
“Thanks,” CJ said. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the ham hit his plate. For the next few minutes a procession of