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“You know the rich brats that look down their noses at you? Around here, they're always a Robichaux.” He pulls the silverware drawer open with force, and metal rattles loudly.
“Marion doesn't treat me that way. Besides, you're not exactly living in a cardboard box here. Do they really have that much more money than you do?”
“Yes, they do. Your mother is filthy rich.”
I sense there's more to this and decide to ask Annie about it later. I say, “Well. I would like you to think about it as a political move, because our two clans would be quite strong against the Veilleux.”
I leave the room to let him stew over my words and to use the bathroom. Apparently pregnancy is about eating, peeing, and sleeping.
When I return, he's stirring the chowder and says, “Ready to eat?”
“Yes.” Glass is wet in my hands as I take our ice waters to the table.
Bowls clatter onto the counter, and Brady splashes soup in for both of us. He carries them over and sets one before me as I wait for him to speak again.
The pepper mill crunches black specks onto the ivory surface of my chowder, and Brady sighs as he reaches across the table for my hand. “I'm willing to try to get along with your mother.”
I gaze into his eyes. My husband is an amazing man if he’s willing to try for me. Considering this is a start, I don't push for more. “Thank you.”
Hope blooms in my heart as I imagine my mother at the birth of our children and holding one of them in her arms. I ask, “Would you be okay if we invite Marion and Richard to dinner?” I put a spoonful of soup into my mouth.
Brady says, “Yeah, let's start off trying the family thing. Although I'll be surprised if Richard agrees to come.”
I decide to ignore the negative. “I'll talk to Annie, and we should invite Donna, too.”
He nods as he swallows. “You make good chowder.”
I guess he would like this conversation to be over. “Thanks. It's kind of hard to screw up. Annie's recipe is super easy.”
But I’m not done with the subject. I recall Marion telling me I was the only child she had, and I wonder who would have become the next Robichaux alpha if I hadn't come to Maine.
“Brady, do you have any idea who would have been the next alpha if I wasn't Marion's daughter?”
He frowns in concentration. “Only descendants can be alphas.”
Marion’s desire for a joint council makes sense now. If I hadn’t come along, her clan would have been left without a leader when she died.
No wonder the Veilleux aren’t happy. Without an alpha heir for the Le Roux and the Robichaux, power would have been all theirs. I swirl my soup, thinking about another bite. But I realize it’s cold and push my bowl away instead.
