NASH
Sunday dinner was a command performance at Heartstone Manor. Almost everyone was there, except for Braxton and Ford. Brax, Parker's youngest brother, was ever absent, preferring to spend most of his time in Asheville, focused on his real estate business. Brax slept in the Manor, but that was it. His seat, and the one assigned to Ford, who remained in prison for Prentice's murder, were the only seats empty. Otherwise, the entire family was in attendance. Including Tyler. Unfortunately.
The dining room at Heartstone Manor is one of the most impressive I've seen. The room itself was massive, paneled in walnut, the dark-beamed and white plaster ceiling a full two stories above us. Great iron chandeliers cast a golden glow on the beautifully set table. Crystal sparkled, snowy white napkins folded intricately sat in the center of antique Meissen place settings. My mother would have been in heaven.
Griffen sat at the head of the table, as usual, Hope on his right. From there, the Sawyer siblings were arranged in order by age, though Royal had Daisy in between him and his younger sister Avery. In violation of the age ordered seating, Hope had moved Parker and I in front of Tenn and Scarlett, putting more distance between Parker and Tyler, who was at the opposite end of the table, closest to Parker's aunt Ophelia, who sat at the foot.
Bryce had the seat beside Tyler, which had suited them well so far. They both lounged carelessly, sipping from the only full wine glasses at the table. They must have hit the bar in the billiards room before dinner. Not a surprise.
Sterling was the unfortunate soul forced to sit closest to the pair. She ignored them both with steely grace. Everything was the same as the last Sunday dinner we'd attended, with three exceptions. The guards, Thatcher, and Bryce.
Hawk wasn't bothering with subtlety. He had the extra team of guards working in shifts, one within arm's reach of Parker at all times. Two of them stood at attention on either side of the door, ten feet from Parker, reminding me of the footmen that might have once served in the dining room, years ago.
Thatcher, Scarlett's thirteen-year-old son, was the other recent addition to Sunday dinner. I'd heard Scarlett say with a throaty laugh that he had to practice his table manners before he lost them completely. Thatcher had given her an excellent teenage glare, but hadn't argued.
On the surface, Bryce appeared exactly as he had at the few meals Parker and I had attended since Tyler had shown up. Half drunk, his fingers curved around the wine glass in front of him, tapping a beat on the crystal, a familiar sneer on his face as he observed his cousins. But something was off. The distance I'd sensed all week between him and Tyler was more obvious than ever.
Tyler's grin was exuberant, Bryce's a shade forced. When Tyler tipped his glass of wine over Sterling's empty glass and filled it, Bryce shook his head, murmuring something I'd swear was, "Cut it out." Tyler only laughed. Sterling slid the wine glass away, ignoring Tyler completely.
Tyler leaned closer and whispered something that brought an angry flush to Sterling's cheeks. Bryce kicked him under the table. This time, his words were audible. "Leave her alone."
Tyler kicked him back with a lazy swing of his foot, his attention focused on Sterling. Parker hadn't missed the byplay. Before she could shove back her chair and come to Sterling's rescue, Sterling rescued herself. She stood with icy composure, still ignoring both Tyler and Bryce. Striding around the end of the table, she slid into Brax's empty seat beside Thatcher.
"Mind some company?" she asked the teenager with a bright smile.
Thatcher shot her an engaging grin. "Will you eat my asparagus?"
Sterling laughed, the sound clear and bright. "Asparagus, yes. Peas or green beans, no way."
"Fair enough," Thatcher agreed. He held out his hand, and Sterling shook it, sending him a wink. Beside Thatcher, Scarlett shook her head, grinning down at her plate. Across the table, Tyler sulked, all his targets out of reach. He grabbed Sterling's rejected glass and drained it of wine.
Bryce leaned in and said something–I thought a word of caution–and Tyler's eyes narrowed. There was a flash of something calculating in his expression. Just as I was turning it over in my mind, Parker whispered, "He's not as drunk as he seems."
I watched more closely. No, Tyler wasn't as drunk as he seemed. And Bryce might be more drunk than I'd guessed. Bryce toyed with his empty wine glass, his eyes shifting from the empty glass to Tyler, an air of apprehension hanging over him.
Now that Sterling had moved out of range, Tyler was done toying with lesser targets. His eyes were on Parker, absorbing her every move, as if he were waiting for something.
The dining-room door opened. Savannah and one of the day staff entered with wine and a pitcher of ice water. As they made their way around the table, filling glasses, Griffen looked to Tenn. "I heard you had a freeloader in the cottage again. Was this one as interesting as Scarlett?"
Scarlett elbowed Tenn in the side. "Another freeloader in my cottage?"
Tenn shook his head. "Teenagers. They were with one of the family groups and wanted a quiet place to drink the beer they liberated from the minibar."
"They didn't do any damage," Royal added. "I was almost sorry I had to rat them out to their parents."
Tyler shifted in his seat as Savannah reached Parker and leaned in to pour her wine. "Nice to see you two at dinner," Savannah murmured.
"Not sure yet if it's nice to be here," Parker murmured back.
Bryce clocked Tyler's shift and his eyes shot to Parker's wine glass. As she reached for it, Tyler leaned forward.
Bryce's eyes widened, shooting between the glass and Tyler, finally landing on Parker. Something changed in Bryce's face, hesitation morphing into resolve.
As Parker lifted her glass, Bryce grabbed a dinner roll from one of the silver baskets set around the table. Bryce leaned back and winged the roll straight at Parker, knocking the glass from her hand with an explosive crash, drenching her with wine.
I wouldn't have expected that kind of aim from Bryce, especially considering how much he'd been drinking. Parker sprung to her feet, as her aunt Ophelia cried, "Bryce! What on earth?"
Bryce didn't acknowledge his mother. Grumbling, "Asshole," at Tyler, he stormed from the room without another word to anyone. Tyler grinned at his departing back, calling out, "You're wasting your time, man."
