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“It would just be temporary,” Thad said. “Until she found another place to live.”
I didn’t think it was a particularly good idea, but I kept my mouth shut. If my brothers wanted to welcome a stranger and her little daughter into their house, it was none of my business. Plus, I didn’t want to be accused of being a know-it-all as I often had been in the past.
“The extra rent could feed our beer fund,” Caspian said.
“Good point,” Soren said. “But we won’t be able to eat breakfast in our boxers.”
“Why would you do that anyway?” I asked. “You’re not teenagers.”
All four of my brothers looked over at me as if I’d lost my mind.
“Why wouldn’t we?” Soren asked.
“What’s wrong with you?” Caspian asked.
“He stayed in the city too long,” Thad said.
“All right, knuckleheads, I have to go be a grown-up.” I got to my feet and gestured toward the house. “Come in for dinner. Mama will be mad if we let her gravy get cold.”
Soren leaped up and slapped me on the back. “Gravy. God is good.”
Although it wasmy table in my dining room, I insisted that Mama and Pop sit on the ends just as they had when we were all boys.
I hadn’t bothered with nameplates or assigned seating, figuring everyone could sit wherever they pleased. Thad andSammie sat on Pop’s end of the table, with Chloe between them. I, of course, wanted to sit next to Annie and strategically timed it so that it would seem as if it happened organically. Caspian slid into the seat next to me. Soren and Rafferty found places near Mama, with Finley and Elliot in the corner spots.
Pop raised his glass to toast, his eyes shiny as he looked around the table at each of us. “I’m thankful for my family and our special guests who add such beauty to the room. And that we can be all together for one of my favorite days of the year. It’s a true blessing to have us all at the same table.”
We raised glasses and clinked with whomever was nearest.
When I tapped my glass against Annie’s, she lifted her gaze to look into my eyes. “Thankful to be here,” she whispered into my ear. “Thank you for taking me in.”
“My door’s always unlocked for you.”Along with my heart.
We passed dishes around the table as everyone remarked on how great everything looked and smelled. Soon, we were all digging into the festive meal. My turkey was slightly dry, but Mama’s gravy took care of that problem. My rolls had come out great, though, especially with slabs of butter. Savory herbs wafted up from the dressing. Mashed potatoes tasted of cream and butter with just the right amount of salt.
The table was long enough that conversations naturally broke off into small groups. On our end of the table, Pop asked questions of Annie mostly, wanting to know the details about how the movie industry worked and her experiences as an actress. I found myself fascinated to hear her stories, especially how long it took to film just a few minutes of a story.
“A lot of time is spent in our trailers,” Annie said. “That’s where I work on my lines and all the rest.”
From the other side of the table, Sammie hung on every word but didn’t ask any questions or make comments. She was obviously a fan. Like me. But there was a nervous, guarded quality about her that made me sure Thad was right. She was onthe run. Was it from a man or the law? Who knew. The only thing I felt certain about? She was bad news for Thad. If he got involved, it would put him in danger of whatever it was that threatened her.
As I glanced around the table at the four women who had joined us for the feast, it occurred to me that they all had one thing in common. They were either running from something or someone or harboring a secret. For whatever reason, they had found their way to us.
11
ANNIE
The day after Thanksgiving, the photograph of Atticus and me kissing in the parking lot of the local tavern had made its way around the social media sites and had died down somewhat, mostly thanks to another celebrity scandal. As much as I felt for the actor and his estranged wife and their children, her affair took some of the attention away from me.
The helicopters that had hoped for photos yesterday were nowhere to be seen, either. We could go outside without fear of some interloper taking our photo with his long-range lens. It made me wonder if the helicopter we heard had actually been looking for something else. Not everything was about me, for goodness' sake.
Regardless, I wasn’t ready to go back to my real life. I didn’t want this time to end, but I knew it would eventually.
That morning after we’d stuffed ourselves with turkey dinner the night before, Atticus and I took Scout out for a walk. The sun had stayed with us all through the holiday, but today we’d awakened to a cloud covering that promised another bout of snow.
We were quiet as we walked through the snow, less frozen than yesterday, making it easier to traipse through. When we reached the creek, Scout paused to lick the icy edges before becoming distracted by her own tail, which she proceeded to chase for several iterations until a squirrel chattering above us stole her attention.
Atticus had convinced me to wear one of his one down jackets for extra warmth. The collar smelled of his cologne, and I was perfectly toasty. Wearing his coat was like being wrapped in his arms. Almost, anyway.
