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“And now he’s getting married and I’m living my dream. We both got what we wanted.” Chantelle stuffed a meatball in her mouth.
“I see you started without me,” a baritone voice
stated.
Chantelle wiped her mouth in case some spaghetti sauce splattered her face. Looking over her shoulder, she gazed at her stepfather, Douglas Evans. She wasn’t keen on her mother remarrying at first. Even after meeting the kindhearted carpenter and seeing her mother’s happiness, Chantelle struggled to accept her step-dad. Yet, she knew he cared about her mother, so she stood from her seat to greet him.
“You’re just as pretty as ever,” he said to her. He opened his arms wide.
She forced a smile. “There’s more to me than my looks.” She felt a twinge of pain inside her chest as she hugged him. Why did that comment always bother her? Douglas didn’t mean any harm, nor did the others that complimented her beauty.
Douglas towered over her with his six-four frame. Though sixty-one, the man kept in shape with his hard chest. “I know you are. Your mother saves all your articles and keeps them in a scrapbook. She’ll read them out loud to me every once in a while.”
“It puts him to sleep,” her mother said.
“That’s nice… I guess.” Chantelle didn’t know how to take that one.
Her mother waved away her response. “They’re good Chantelle. He says it’s the way I read. What do you want, dear? A performance?”
Elise giggled while Grant rose from his seat to shake Douglas’ hand. Out of everyone, her brother accepting their step-dad took her by surprise. He had been against them dating, but seeing their mother’s eyes beam must have changed his mind. Chantelle was working on it still.
“Good to see you, Douglas,” her brother said.
Chantelle returned to her seat. Would she ever get used to someone else sitting in her father’s place? Douglas greeted her mother with a kiss, and she held back an inward wince.
“So I was thinking?” Douglas said, interrupting her thoughts. “Why don’t we take a family photo?”
“What?” Chantelle asked, her mouth falling open.
“I’m a little surprised myself,” her mother said.
Douglas took his wife’s hand. “This is our first year as husband and wife, and I want us all to get together for a photo.” He looked at Chantelle. “I know it’s important to your mother. She’s sentimental about these things.”
“I’ve learned that the brief time I’ve been in this family.” A hint of humor was in Elise’s voice.
“I’m cool, as long as I know the date and time,” Grant said.
Chantelle scooted her chair back from the dining room table. “Excuse me. I need some air.”
Her mother stood, but Douglas appeared to talk her down. Chantelle hurried out the door to the tree house in the backyard. It had been her favorite place to play with her brother until he got older, got into sports, and found his first girlfriend. Careful in her heels, she climbed the board steps to the fort.
Opening the latched door, she entered the space that filled her memories as a child. A cut out window with a cloth nailed over it made a curtain. A small table with mismatched cups sat in the corner while a list of membership rules caught her eye. She and Grant spent hours thinking about what to write, but it all came down to “no adults allowed.”
The boards squeaked underneath her feet as the wind ruffled the leaves. It brought a fresh breeze with a hint of tree sap. Recalling the splinters as a kid, she sat on the rough wooden planks.
“I know you’re in there.” Grant called out.
Chantelle huffed. “Leave me alone.”
“Can’t do that.” Hearing the creaks in the background, she knew her brother was coming to pester her.
He peeked his head through the door. “I’m almost thirty. I’m not climbing trees anymore.”
She wrung her hands together. “Did you go visit him?”
He shook his head but proceeded inside to sit next to her. “Not today.”
She rested her head on his shoulder. “I know Mom’s happy, but you know how broken she was when dad died.”
