Page 73 of Silver Player

Within minutes of drinks being dispersed, Mother announces dinner is ready. She didn’t bat an eye when I requested dinner for this evening so close to Thanksgiving. She lives for these moments. Making meals. Entertaining. Bringing us all back into the house. Even tomorrow, which is a Sunday, she’ll be feeding whoever shows up for morning brunch, which has turned into Mati and Denton on the regular, along with his grandmother, Magnolia.

We’ve hardly taken our seats at the dining room table which casually holds up to ten when my father speaks.

“So William, how is the bar?” my father questions, and Roxanne smirks. Yes, my father calls me by my full name most of the time in the same manner as Roxie, which is one reason I hate it when she does. The patronizing, condescending tone elongates my name with his disappointment in me.

“The pub,” I correct him, “had record sales with Oktoberfest. We’re on point for the holidays, especially with the seasonal brews.”

“Giant works hard,” my father states, and I cringe, nodding and pursing my lips. He has no idea who works harder.

“He sure does,” I respond sarcastically, noticing Roxanne watching me from across the table. I’d love to glare back at her, tell her the truth, and watch her reaction. The intensity of those prying steel eyes tries to read me. Yep, I have another secret from my father. No big deal, I want to snap, but the sympathy in her gaze holds my tongue as does present company.

“Sadie, how do you like Blue Ridge?” Charlie asks, ever the peacemaker and trying to shift the attention at the table. He’d wink at me in silent solidarity if his focus wasn’t aimed at Sadie, ever the politician. Look them in the eye. Make them like you.

“It’s been…different.”

Afraid she’d say she hated it, I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Different, I can work with; hatred, I can’t.

“What do you like best?” Charlie asks, and my airways clog again.

“You have a nice cemetery.”

Sweet Jesus.

“And a decent bowling alley.”

Charlie swings his head in my direction, holding my eyes a second. I feel my mother’s glare on the side of my face, but I refuse to look at her. I can only imagine the chagrin on my father. It’s no secret the only bowling alley is run by Rebel’s Edge, the biker club James belongs to and owned by the infamous Bear Grady.

“Well, yes. Those are interesting places,” Charlie says, lying as he smiles back at Roxanne’s niece.

My daughter.

“And what don’t you like about Blue Ridge?”

“The high school. Kids are jerks.”

Lucy’s head pops up, and my mother’s fork hangs in midair. Charlie glances at me again as Roxanne clears her throat and then in a hushed tone, admonishes Sadie by stating her name.

“I see,” Charlie says although I’m sure he doesn’t.

“They don’t know what to think of me,” Sadie begins. “I’m from a big city. I use big words. I like to read, and I dress like this.” She waves a hand at her attire. “Flannel doesn’t come in solid black.”

Roxie shakes her head, and I’ve lost my appetite, setting my fork to rest on my plate.

“Maybe they think you look like Violet from The Incredibles,” Lucy interjects, sweet and innocent and complimentary. My eyes meet Charlie’s across the table and then shift to Roxie’s. “Violet is beautiful, and she can make herself invisible. Who doesn’t want a superpower?”

“I want a superpower,” my mother interjects, trying to save this conversation. “I’d love to time travel.”

“That’s because you watch that show with the guy in a skirt and the woman who walked through stones,” my father mutters.

“Outlander?” Roxanne cheerfully questions, and thankfully, the subject shifts from Sadie.

As dinner ends, the bomb needs to be dropped before coffee is served and my mother’s famous pumpkin pie is passed. I swallow, rubbing my hands down my thighs, noticing Roxanne watching me. She shakes her head in warning, but this is how I do things.

How I told them I was dropping out of college.

How I told them I was divorcing Rachel.

How I told them I was opening the pub.