light brown hair heavily infiltrated with ash-gray. He wore oversized, steel-rimmed glasses, calling attention to penetrating eyes the same dark brown shade as the dress slacks that he wore with heavy black dress shoes, a matching belt and a stark white polo shirt. Stephen nodded in greeting and watched the elder Chatam’s sagging face harden around a frown, his shoulders pulling back as those dark eyes took Stephen’s measure. The wheelchair, Stephen saw, was dismissed as inconsequential. When a bland expression of dignity smoothed over the older man’s frown, Stephen took it as a sure sign that he had been found wanting.
The weight of that felt shockingly heavy. It hurt more than Stephen could have imagined, and given his past that was saying something.
Since Nick’s death, Stephen’s life had evolved totally around hockey and those who paid attention to such things. When he’d wanted to impress someone, he’d done it on the ice. Unfortunately, Kaylie’s father didn’t look the sort to be dazzled by a deadly sweeping paddle-down or lightning-fast half-pad butterfly save.
Stephen had known, of course, from the very beginning that money and status counted for nothing here, either. The cachet of old money clung to these Chatams like perfume clung to a rose, though by all appearances Kaylie and her father were of modest means. Judging by the condition and amenities of Chatam House, the old girls themselves controlled a considerable bankroll, but Stephen seriously doubted if any of the three had been shopping for anything more than necessities in decades. In this family, money just did not seem to matter beyond the good that it could do. Otherwise, he would not have donated a handsome sum to some single parents’ ministry for the privilege of recuperating within these hallowed walls.
As for status, according to yesterday’s table conversation, the Chatams were as apt to take in convicted felons as pro sports figures, which put him in his place quite firmly. Still, Stephen could not complain.
The fact was, these Chatam women were the most generous, caring people he’d ever met. The jury remained out on the men, but with women like these, Stephen couldn’t blame the guys if they were more careful and protective than the average father or brother. He even thought that he might be a little offended on behalf of Kaylie and her aunts if such was not the case, all of which meant he had a problem, one he didn’t quite know how to handle.
With skill, money and status out of the equation, that just left Stephen with himself, which he knew was sadly lacking.
“Brother!” Odelia gushed, coming to her feet as Kaylie and her father approached. “Come meet our special guest.” Hanky fluttering like a bird desperate to escape her plump hand, Odelia made the introductions. “Stephen dear, this is our eldest brother, Hubner Chandler Chatam, Jr.”
Stephen resorted to a silent nod by way of acknowledgment, managing to keep perfectly still otherwise. “Hub, this is Stephen.” She broke off and turned blinking amber eyes on Stephen. “I’m afraid I don’t know your full name, dear.”
Leave it to the Chatam sisters to stand on ceremony.
“Oh, um, it’s Stephen George Radulf Landeberht Gallow.” He made himself smile, though he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even spoken his cumbersome moniker.
Odelia beamed. “How delightful!” She turned to her brother. “Hubner, this is—”
“I heard.” He thrust his hand at Stephen. A little surprised, Stephen shook it. Sort of. He’d barely begun the motion when Hubner took his hand back, turned and greeted his sisters.
“So how have you all been?” He glanced at his daughter, adding, “Kaylie’s brought home surprisingly little news.”
The sisters traded looks before putting on their smiles. While Hypatia ably guided the small talk, Odelia and Magnolia doing their parts, Stephen noticed that Kaylie wandered the room, first going to stand by the massive fireplace. She ran her fingertips over the ornate plasterwork before turning away to smell the huge flower arrangement standing atop a tall, three-legged table in the center of the space. From there, she ambled over to a heavy lamp with a colorful stained-glass shade. She was standing by the front window, gazing out over the long, looping drive, when Carol appeared in the doorway to remark that dinner could be served anytime the sisters were ready.
Only then did Kaylie come near Stephen. She walked over to release the brake on his chair and grip the handles in preparation for wheeling him to the dining room. They went last. Hypatia led the way,