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I blinked between them and noticed immediately the way that Susan's spritely demeanor shuttered when her husband spoke.
"Ray," she hissed. "No need to throw that wet blanket on the evening!"
"She knows everything," Brandon said evenly. "And she also knows that it's almost over."
"I've heard that before," Ray grumbled before turning down the hall. "Well, come on then," he called to the three of us. "Chicken's on the table and getting cold. Hopefully we'll have enough."
"Oh, hush," Susan said as she shepherded Brandon and me to follow Ray. "There's plenty," she assured me as we turned into the kitchen.
She wasn't lying. Along with a massive roasted chicken, there was a large bowl of buttery mashed potatoes and a salad that would have obviously fed a lot more than just her and Ray. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought that Susan was expecting us. But when I saw her beaming at Brandon, I realized that his tendency to prepare for visitors who might stop by wasn't unique; it was a learned trait from the woman who helped raise him.
"This looks amazing, Mrs. Petersen," I said truthfully as she set out two extra plates and silverware around the small kitchen table. It was the kind of spread that would rival Bubbe's Sunday brunches.
"Oh, honey, you call me Susan," she said with a wink. "We're casual around here. And help yourself before Brandon eats it all up."
"I'm not that bad anymore," Brandon protested even as he spooned a mountain of potatoes onto his plate.
"No, you're not," Susan agreed. "Used to be you'd eat everything at the table plus whatever I had left in the fridge." She looked pointedly at me. "If the two of you have kids, you'll have to have a separate savings account for this one's son."
My stomach immediately clenched again at the second mention of kids, so I focused on unfolding my napkin across my lap.
"Susan!" Brandon chided as he caught my strained expression. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't scare Skylar off."
"Brandon, you've met my grandmother," I said. "This is nothing."
Brandon conceded the fact, and started serving everyone chicken.
"So, you've met Skylar's family too?" Susan asked innocently, although she didn't bother to mask her clear interest. "Are you from Boston too, dear?"
I shook my head as I accepted a chicken wing onto my plate. "No, New York. Brooklyn, actually."
"And what brought you up here?"
"Skylar just finished law school at Harvard," Brandon said proudly.
"And is that how the two of you met?" Susan asked, blinking between the two of us. "At a Harvard event?"
Brandon glanced at me and grinned. "No. We met by chance one snowy night. Skylar got trapped in my house in a storm. It was kismet."
The heat in his eyes caused my heart to thump just a bit louder. Susan blinked cheerily between the two of us, the dimples in her cheeks growing deeper. Ray just took a bite of his chicken and looked bored until Susan elbowed him in the ribs.
"Ow!" he cried, rubbing his side irritably.
"Do you remember what it was like to be in love like this?" Susan asked still beaming at us. "Just look at them."
Ray did, but his look was more of a glower. Brandon caught it and set his fork down on his plate.
"Why don't you just spit it out, Ray?" he said.
Ray mirrored his foster son by setting his fork down on the table too. "All right, then, I will. This is ridiculous. You're getting involved with this young woman when you've got a whole host of things to clean up in your own life, most of which I have to read about in the gossip columns. It's embarrassing."
"You read the gossip columns, Ray?" Brandon teased with a raised brow. "That is embarrassing."
"That's not what I meant!" Ray barked. "The point is that I'd like to know when you're going to get your act together and make something real of yourself."
I balked. What the hell was going on? Brandon, for his part, just rubbed a tired hand over his face and groaned.
"And, there it is," he said. "That's right. I've accomplished exactly nothing my life. You know, besides building two of the most successful businesses in New England."
