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Sam laughed. “In his defense, he does live farther away than the rest of us.”
Reilly smiled and held up a bag. “Picked up some fresh bread from that bakery on Fifth. River’s been salivating the entire way here.”
River glared at his twin and slammed a fist into his shoulder. “I still don’t see why I couldn’t have a piece, damn it.”
Reilly rolled his eyes. “Mom would’ve skinned us both, and you know it.”
Sam shook his head. “You’re a bottomless pit, River.”
“Are you boys going to stand out here in the cold all day or what?”
The soft, feminine voice had them all turning. Their mom stood in the doorway with a dish towel in one hand and a wide smile curving her lips. She looked flushed, Sam thought, and her normally neat-as-a-pin gray hair was messy, as if she’d been running her fingers through it. Sam’s worries went up another notch. None of them spoke as they closed the distance. She ushered them in and quickly shut the door behind them. “You boys always could stand the cold easier than me.”
“That’s because our hides are tougher than yours,” Vance said as he leaned down for a hug.
Sam unzipped his black Carhartt and tossed it over a chair. “Happy Thanksgiving, Mom,” he said when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her rounded figure and the scent of honeysuckle always gave him a feeling of peace. Of home.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Sammy.”
“Brodix is on his way.” Sam answered the unspoken question in his mother’s blue eyes as he stepped back to let Reilly and River have their turn. “Should be here any minute.”
“I’m here.”
Sam turned. Brodix stood in the doorway, wearing a dark gray wool coat and carrying a glass pie pan.
“If that’s your pumpkin pie, I just might kiss you, Brodix,” River said as he crossed the room to take the dish.
Brodix unbuttoned his coat. “It makes absolutely no logical sense how you stay so lean, River.”
“Leave your brother alone and give your mom a hug.”
Brodix chuckled and opened his arms. “Yes, ma’am.” Sam watched on as their mom stepped into his brother’s embrace. The only thing missing was their dad. It would be their second Thanksgiving without him. Pain hit
Sam square in the chest when he thought of how much he missed the man who’d raised him. By example, Chet Jennings had shown them how to be men worthy of respect. Sam still missed hearing his booming voice and feeling his rib-crushing bear hugs. He looked over at his brothers and saw the same unhappy expressions.
“I know what you’re all thinking, and you might as well stop it right now,” their mom chastised. “We always had laughter and love filling this house when your father was alive. Do you think he’d want that to change just because the good Lord chose to bring him home?” As one they all shook their heads, and she smiled. “Good, then. Let’s get this dinner on the table so you boys can fill me in on what you’ve been up to.”
Vance laughed. “You just want to know if any of us have found our one true love yet.”
She tsked. “Well, I’m not getting any younger, and I’d like to have grandkids while I’m still able to feed myself.”
“Speaking of age,” Sam said as he noticed his mother perspiring. “It might be time to think about slowing down a little, Mom.”
Her brows drew together. “You mean retiring, don’t you?”
Sam started to answer, but the doorbell rang. He frowned. “Are you expecting anyone else, Mom?” Their Thanksgiving dinners had always been for immediate family only. It’d been that way since Sam could remember, and he wasn’t real fond of change.
His mom’s eyes lit up, and she turned and headed for the door. “I nearly forgot Julie!”
“Julie?” River asked as he looked over at Reilly. “Is that the waitress you were telling me about the other day? The one from the restaurant?”
Julie? Sam mouthed as he looked over at his brothers. They all shrugged and stared at the door as if equally curious. Sam watched and waited. Considering they’d never asked an outsider to Thanksgiving dinner before, he figured Julie must be pretty special or his mom never would’ve extended an invitation to their private gathering.
As she pulled the door open, Sam got his first look at the mysterious woman. Long, dark hair was about all he could make out. There was a hell of a lot of it. The big blue tote she carried blocked part of his view, and the heavy black parka covered everything else. “Julie, dear, I’m so glad you could make it.”
“I’m sorry I’m late, Wanda” she said, a little breathless. “I would’ve been here sooner, but I had to make a second batch of sweet potatoes. The first batch burned. I’m afraid I got a bit distracted studying.”
“No, no, you’re right on time,” his mom said as she took the bag out of the woman’s hands. “The boys just arrived, and the turkey is just about ready to come out of the oven.”
