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“Eh, mind your own business,” Candy hissed. “Let’s support Emily.”

They followed the couple out to the living room. The sliders to the deck were open, and Clare sat on a rattan couch next to Harry, debating the local politics with Big Mike. Charlie sat in the corner, flipping through an oldReader’s Digest. But when he saw Paul, he popped up and practically vaulted to him.

“Son!”

“Hey, Pop,” he said, hugging Charlie, looking right at Harry. “Meet Emily. Uncle Mike, my mother, Clare Saint, Mr. Steinberg, Emily Porter.”

The men were already on their feet, happily checking Emily out. The look on Clare’s face was unmistakable, and when Candy saw it, it reminded her of the time Joey formally introduced her to Roberta. You could almost hear the wordsWhy did my son choose a fat girl?Paul was a lot like Joey, a firstborn, a late bloomer in the romance department. But the mothers never suspected it was directly connected to them: Clare perpetually miserable and then a cheater, and Roberta, a longtime alcoholic and current diehard AA member.

“Nice to meet you,” Clare said, staring Emily in the eyes.

With a big smile on her face, Emily was speechless for a moment, still reeling from Roberta’s observation.

“So! How long have you and Paul been dating? I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone since Bethany left for LA.”

Paul to the rescue, he turned right to Clare from Charlie. “Mom, we’ve been together for a week now,” he said, grinning down at Emily.

She didn’t need to know in which capacity they’d been together.

“Wow, it must be serious if you’re introducing her to the family already.”

Paul later said he couldn’t help his response to Clare, nodding toward Harry. “What’s that all about, Ma? You’re bringing him around with Pop’s family? That feels mean.”

Clare stammered, flushing, and took a step away from her son. “Charlie doesn’t care.”

“The hell he doesn’t, Mom,” Paul hissed, getting up in her face. “Be nice to Emily if you want to see me again this year. And don’t ever mention Bethany’s name again. Ever.”

“Paul!” she cried out, her hand to her throat. “You can’t mean that.”

Saved by the bell, Big Mike stepped on the deck with a platter of grilled meats to feed an army.

“Time to eat,” he called out, nodding at Paul. “Dining room, everyone.”

The next five minutes were chaotic, with all the sons and cousins and girlfriends and wives, their babies and aunts and uncles. The dining room was big but not that big, so the overflow into the kitchen space was for two of the young families and their children. Emily had lost track of names.

It appeared Clare and Paul had had words, which made her sad, but it was out of her control, figuring it was probably about her. Then to her surprise, Charlie sat down next to her at the table.

“I’m so glad to meet you. So you’re a schoolteacher?”

“Yep, kindergarten.”

“You must be a patient person,” he replied. “I do some teaching as a battalion chief, and boy, my tolerance is not what it used to be.”

“Oh God, I can’t imagine teaching adults,” she said, laughing.

“You might not know this, but Clare taught.”

“I didn’t know it. Thanks for telling me.”

The meal was phenomenal like Paul had said it would be, the food didn’t stop coming, and all of it was delicious. Emily ate heartily without too much restraint, but not glutton-like at all, Clare was happy to report.

She didn’t notice Clare and Roberta watching her eat. After the meal when everyone got busy helping in the kitchen or playing poker or horsing around or back out on the deck, Clare pounced, moving into Emily’s space, practically squeezing next to her on a couch under the pergola.

“I was hoping to spend some time with you. I saw Charlie monopolizing you during dinner.”

A fixed smile on her face, Emily didn’t know what the proper response was, so she brought up teaching. “Charlie mentioned that you taught. I’m a teacher.”

“Is that right? What grade?”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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