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There’s a “Hey!” that echoes from somewhere inside the house. I don’t hide my smile, relaxing some despite my apprehension about this dinner.
The mother-daughter resemblance is obvious. Both women are blonde and slender. But Mrs. Garner’s hair is trimmed in a short bob and her eyes are a warm brown, not blue. She’s wearing a brightly patterned sundress, which helps me feel a little less overdressed.
Hannah glances to me. “Mom, this is Oliver. Oliver, this is my mom.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Garner.” My manners kick in automatically, years of socializing at important events ingrained in me.No impression is irrelevant, my father always said. My grandfather said the same thing, so I know where he got it from.
“Cynthia, please.” Hannah’s mother shakes my offered hand. Her smile is friendly and open, but her eyes are curious, scanning me over with an unexpected intensity.
I have no idea what Hannah has told her family about me, and her mom’s expression gives nothing away. There’s only curiosity on her face, no approval or animosity.
“Come on in.”
I follow Hannah inside, glancing around the entryway. A staircase curves up ahead, leading upstairs. There’s an opening to the left that reveals the living room. Window seats run around two sides of the room, the panes of glass above the cushions showing off all the greenery surrounding the house. There’s a fireplace that looks like it’s never been used, the bricks beneath the grate spotless. The walls are plaster, painted in neutral, soothing shades.
We pass the living room and enter the kitchen. It’s long and rectangular, centered around the French doors on the far wall. Everything else is constructed of tile or wood. It reminds me of a winery.
Cynthia keeps walking through the open doors and outside. Wooden floors transition into terra-cotta tiles. The outdoor seating area is huge, the yard past it much larger than the front of the house suggests.
I’m distracted by the view of the sprawling yard by the woman who leaps up and approaches us. Her hair is the color of dark honey, a few shades darker than Hannah’s. And the wide, unguarded smile she aims my way is nothing I’ve seen from Hannah, either. But I’m certain this is her sister, Rachel.
“You came!”
“I was invited,” I answer, smiling at her exuberance. It’s refreshing, since I’m usually surrounded by people who hide their emotions. Including Hannah, who’s a rigid statue next to me. “Nice to meet you, Rachel.”
“I don’t know which is more surprising: that Hannah mentioned me to the guy she claimed to barely know or that you remembered my name.”
Rachel’s eyes bounce between us. I glance at Hannah in time to catch the wide eyes aimed at her younger sister. The universalstop talkinglook.
“I’m good with names,” I say. “Comes in handy at work.”
“What do you do? Hannah didn’t mention that either.”
“You didn’t ask!” Hannah says. There’s a note of exasperation in her voice. And also maybe a hint of embarrassment.
“I work for my family’s company.”
“Withyour family?”
I nod. “We’re not the only employees, but my brother and father both work there as well.”
“You and Hannah both went into the family business, then,” Rachel comments.
“We did.”
“Hey, sis.”
Hannah turns toward the dark-haired man lumbering toward us, clearly welcoming the distraction. “Hey, Eddie.”
Hannah’s brother has brown hair and a deep tan. Laugh lines crinkle the corners of his eyes as he hugs his little sister. I assumed Hannah was closer with her sister, but she beams up at her brother with a hero-worship I’m a little envious of.
He turns to me next and holds out a hand. “Hey, I’m Eddie. Nice to meet you.”
“You, too. Oliver.” Once our hands drop, I say, “You’re awfully tan for a doctor. I didn’t think operating rooms get much sunlight.”
Eddie chuckles, completely at ease. “They don’t. I go out surfing most mornings. Can’t get enough of it. You surf?”
I shake my head. “Never been.”
