Even worse, if she told her father what had happened—about Link confronting the jerk who’d taunted Portia—it would only give him ammunition against Link. And Lord knew he already had a full clip.
9
Hey, if you can’t get a sitter, I understand.”
“I’m sorry. I tried.” It was true, but maybe she could have tried harder.
“Hey,” Link’s voice brightened. “Any chance you can get away next Tuesday evening instead?”
“Tuesday?” She switched her cell phone to her other ear and lowered her voice. Daddy was already in bed for the night. “I can’t. Daddy has his prayer meeting, so there would be no one to watch Portia.”
“Bring Portia too. My nieces will love having a new playmate.”
An alarm went off in the back of her head. “Your . . . nieces?”
“I’m not on the schedule for late shift that night, so come have supper with us.”
“Us?”
“My family. At the inn. We get together every other Tuesday night for supper. Remember?”
“Yes, but I thought you ended up going last week.”
“Oh, I did. We’re switching weeks because of Thanksgiving, so that makes two in a row.”
“Link?” Her palms were sweating just thinking about the prospect. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”
“Sure you are. They won’t bite. I promise. I’d love for them to meet you. Well . . . get to know you I mean. I know you’ve already met some of them because of the bakery.”
She blew out a calming breath that didn’t do much to calm her. “I guess I could do that.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up at six and give you the lowdown on the way out there.”
“Lowdown?” Why would dinner at his parents’ involve a lowdown? What had she gotten herself into?
He laughed. “I’m just kidding. Well, sort of. Just come. It’s totally casual. Nothing fancy. Oh, and hey, I told Mom I’d bring the bread, so maybe you can pick out a couple of nice loaves from the bakery and I’ll pay you for it.”
“Oh, I get it. You’re just trying to get out of having to take care of the bread.”
He laughed. “Well, there is that. But hey, I said I’d pay for it.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m happy to bring the bread.”
They hung up a few minutes later and Shayla realized her hands were shaking.
Part of her was ecstatic at the invitation. Not only had she always wanted to see the inside of the Chicory Inn, but to think that Link wanted his family to meet her? She was beyond flattered. And a little bit surprised.
But another part of her was terrified. Link’s family was close—and big. Huge. And she didn’t know how they did things, what they would expect of her. Mama had taught her and Jerry good manners, but they didn’t often have the opportunity to eat at nice restaurants. What if she didn’t know which fork to use? Or what if they talked about things she knew nothing about?
A horrible thought struck her: What if they asked about her family? She wasn’t even ready to explain everything to Link yet, let alone his family.
And what if Link’s idea of “casual” was totally different than hers? His sister and sister-in-law had been pretty dressed up that day they’d come to the bakery to arrange the catering for Bree’s reception. Maybe they were so dressed up because they had other errands that day, but she sure wouldn’t have called their attire casual.
Remembering her conversation with Landyn, she smiled. She’d emptied two burlap coffee sacks since that day—never mind that she’d transferred a half-full bag into plastic bins in order to free up another sack. She could take them to Landyn Tuesday night. That would give them at least a little something to talk about. For the first five minutes anyway.
***
There were already three cars in the driveway at the inn when Link rounded the curve. It looked like everyone but Bree and Drew was here, and they might have ridden along with Danae and Dallas from Cape as they sometimes did.
“Here we are.” He gave Shayla what he hoped was a reassuring smile as they wound up the long driveway.
She’d hardly spoken all the way here, although with Portia chattering, it wasn’t surprising Shayla couldn’t get a word in.
She twisted in her seat to speak to Portia in the booster seat. “Now you behave, young lady. Use your manners, you hear me?”
“I didn’t do nothin’ wrong!”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Shayla corrected.
“That’s what I said.”
Link and Shayla laughed. “I’m just reminding you, baby. Manners. And good grammar, please.”
He patted Shay’s arm. “She’ll be fine. Things already get pretty wild with my eight nieces and nephews. One more isn’t going to make it any rowdier.”
She laughed, but Link thought it came off a little nervous sounding. He was nervous too. It had seemed like such a good idea to skip the movie and bring her and Portia to Tuesday night dinner instead, but suddenly he worried about how everyone would react. He hadn’t told anyone he was bringing Shay and Portia. It had been a very long time since he’d had a girlfriend—not that Shayla would consider herself that. But still, that was where this was headed, and he hadn’t wanted to make it too “official” by announcing that he was bringing guests. His family would make a big deal of it as it was. Especially his mom. And his sisters. And probably their kids.
He took in a short breath. He hadn’t thought about his nieces and nephews until now. And it struck a tiny bit of terror in him. Some of them were old enough now that they might say something embarrassing. Tease Shayla or ask questions about why her skin—and Portia’s—was different from theirs. He figured his sisters had taught them better than that, but they were just kids, after all, and he’d heard them say some pretty embarrassing things.
Then there was CeeCee. And who was he kidding? A small part of him worried what his family might think about him bringing home a biracial woman. It wasn’t that they were racist. They weren’t. But maybe they’d feel a bit differently when they realized it was more than a friendship—and especially given that Shayla had a child, to boot. Because regardless of how Portia was related to Shay, the girl was part of the package. And then there was the brother. In jail.
If Link tried to view things through his parents’ eyes, there was a lot to object to.
With a hand on the door handle, he turned to Shayla now. “I did tell you about my grandmother, didn’t I?”
“Yes, Link.” She mimicked him. “Heaven only knows what CeeCee might say!”
He laughed. “Well, it’s true. I’m just warning you. Some days she’s fine, but if it doesn’t seem like she’s making sense, just smile and nod. She won’t know the difference.” He wasn’t giving CeeCee quite enough credit. She was actually getting along wonderfully at the assisted living center, but the family didn’t even pretend any more that his grandmother would ever move into the cottage Dad and Bree’s fiancé, Drew, had built on the property for her.
Currently Mom and Dad planned to rent it out as a suite, but they hadn’t put CeeCee’s house on the market yet, so Dad was understandably a little antsy about the finances.
Though CeeCee had days when she was still her old self, Link saw the slow decline in her too. Made him sad. And he couldn’t even begin to imagine a day when he might possibly see his own parents have to walk that same path.
He parked beside Chase and Landyn’s minivan, turned off the ignition, and pocketed his keys.
“Is this your house, Mr. Link?”
Link looked at Portia over the back of his seat. “It’s not my house now, but this is where I lived when I was a little boy about your age.”
Portia giggled. “You ain’t my age, silly.”
“Aren’t my age,” Shayla corrected.
“No, I aren’t”—he winked at Shayla—“but I used to be your age. A long time ago.”
Portia wrinkled her nose as if she wasn’t sure whether to believe him.
Shayla got out and helped Portia unbuckle. “We’re going to meet Link’s parents and a whole bunch of his family. So you be on your best behavior, okay?”
“You already told me.”
“I know. I’m just reminding you.”
“Is Link going to be on his best ’havior?”
Link laughed. “Probably not. You know how you sometimes act goofy when you’re only with Shayla and Big Daddy?” Portia had corrected him enough times, he’d learned to refer to Mike Michaels by the “right” name when he was talking to her.
Portia nodded.
“Well, sometimes I act goofy when I’m with my family.” He climbed out of the truck and shut the door behind him.
“Oh brother.” Shayla rolled her eyes. “Am I going to be sorry I came?”
He winked at her over the hood of the truck. “Time will tell.”
“Do you have the bread?”
He held up the three bags she’d brought from the bakery.
Huckleberry chose that moment to come flying around the house, the chocolate Lab’s tail wagging wildly. Portia screamed and climbed Shayla like a tree.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” With his free hand, Link grabbed Huck by the collar and knelt down to hold him close. “It’s just Huckleberry. Remember I told you about our dog? He’s a friendly dog. In fact, Huck loves kids.”
“I don’t like him.” She buried her face in the crook of Shayla’s neck, peeking out at the dog.
“You don’t even know him yet,” Shayla chided.
Link wondered if there was a subliminal message there, but she set Portia on the ground without meeting his gaze. She took the little girl’s hand. “He won’t hurt you.”
Link looped the bread sacks over one wrist and wiped his hands on his khakis. “Okay, let’s do this.”
Shayla studied him. “If I didn’t know better, Mr. Link, I’d think you were nervous.”
He had a feeling she was only saying that to make herself feel better. But he just grinned and put a hand at the small of her back, steering her toward the wide front porch of the inn.
Shayla looked up at the gabled roofline. “This has always been my dream house. Don’t forget you promised me a tour.”
“Don’t worry. If I don’t give you one, I guarantee my mom will. It’s her pride and joy.”
“I can see why.”
The inn did look beautiful, dressed for fall. It struck him that he might invite Shayla and Portia for Thanksgiving.
The three of them climbed the steps, but before Link could reach for the front door, it flew open, and Corinne’s three oldest girls plowed into him.
Portia squealed and jumped back three feet.
Link caught her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Hey, hey, careful there, ladies. I brought some friends with me tonight. Don’t knock them over before they even get inside.”
Sari and Sadie stopped short and stared up at Shayla, then Portia, and back again. Three-year-old Simone went straight to Portia and reached up to finger the beads dangling from her hair.
“Ouch!” Portia yelled.
Simone let loose and stumbled backward.
Shayla knelt between her niece and his. “Cut it out, Portia. You’re okay.” She turned to Simone. “Do you like her beads?”
Simone nodded solemnly, suddenly shy.
“I like ’em too,” Sari said. “Mama did her hair like that once when they was in Jamaica. But we didn’t get to go.” She pouted like the slight had been yesterday.
“That was two years ago,” Link told Shayla, laughing.
His mother appeared in the doorway just then. “Well, hi there.” She gave Link a look that asked if he knew why the girl from the bakery was there.
“Mom, you know Shayla Michaels . . . from the bakery in Langhorne?”
“Of course.” Her knit brow said she still hadn’t caught on.
“This is Shay’s niece, Portia. Oh, and”—he held up the bread—“tonight’s bread is brought to you by Coffee’s On, compliments of Shayla.”
“Why thank you, Shayla.” His mother beamed. “But you didn’t drive all the way out here just to deliver that, did you?” His mother looked past them to the driveway, and Link could almost read her mind. She was looking for the delivery truck from the bakery. She didn’t realize Shay and Portia had come with him—which was his own fault.
“Mom, Shayla is actually my—”
“Link!” His mom gave him a playful smack. “Didn’t I tell you to write it down?” She turned to Shayla. “I’m so sorry if you made a special trip. This guy would seriously forget to eat if somebody didn’t remind him. Hang on a minute and let me get you a little something for the delivery.”
“Mom . . . ”
She looked at him.
If his eyes had been lasers, she would have been toast. He put an arm around Shayla’s waist. “Shayla is with me.”
Slowly, painfully so, a light dawned in her eyes—a dim light, but better that than the blank stare she’d been wearing seconds earlier. Her hands fluttered in front of her face and she sputtered, “Oh! Of course. And supper is almost ready, so you all come on in.” She hurried to open the front door, and as Shayla ushered Portia in, Mom asked, “Now what did you say your little girl’s name is?”
Link pounced on the question. “Portia is Shay’s niece, Mom. It’s spelled P-O-R-T-I-A.”
“Yes.” Shayla shot him a look over her shoulder. “Not like the car.”
Mom laughed as if she were in on the joke, and Link shot up a prayer of sheer desperation. If he survived this night, it would be a flat-out miracle.
10
Shayla’s eyes adjusted to the dimmer indoor lights, and a strange sensation went through her. This house! She’d barely stepped past the foyer and already it was everything she’d imagined and more.
And it wasn’t only the cream-colored woodwork and golden hardwood floors, or the colorful textiles and paintings on every wall, although all of that was stunning. There was a warmth about it that filled her up. And made her remember a time when their humble home above the bakery had felt the same way.
“I’m sorry,” she told Link’s mother, putting a hand to her throat. “I’m gawking. But your home is just so beautiful, Mrs. Whitman.”
“Well, thank you, honey. That makes my day. And please, call me Audrey.”
Shayla gave a nod, hoping she’d remember.
“We’ve certainly enjoyed the house.” Link’s mother led the way through the foyer. “Link may have told you it belonged to my parents. We raised our five kids here, and then when Landyn went off to college, we completely remodeled it and opened the inn.”
“I’ve been telling Shayla you’d give her a tour of the whole place,” Link said.
“Of course. I’d love to.” Audrey beamed.
“I remember when it opened.” Shayla made herself smile. She remembered because the open house had fallen on the one-year anniversary of Mama’s death. But of course she didn’t tell Audrey that. She’d wanted to come and see the house even back then, but it had seemed somehow an inappropriate and selfish way to spend such a somber anniversary. So she’d stayed home with Daddy. In silence. Grieving in their separate ways, in separate rooms above the bakery.
“I’ll give you the full tour after supper,” Link’s mom said. “Unless Link wants to do the honors.” She turned to him.
He shrugged. “Either way.”
“Well, let’s eat first, while the food is still hot.”
“It smells heavenly in here.” Shayla took an appreciative whiff.
“Come on to the kitchen, Shayla.” Audrey’s heels clicked on the hardwood floor. “We’ll introduce you to the rest of the family.”
Seeing the house, she’d forgotten about being nervous, but the nerves kicked in big-time now. She wiped damp palms on her jeans. Then worried she shouldn’t have worn jeans. Link had said casual, but if Link’s sisters were all in dressy pants or skirts, she was going to feel stupid.
“Come on, Portia.�
�� She took her niece’s hand and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Remember your manners.”
Portia wriggled her hand away, but gave a quick nod. Shayla prayed for the best. She looked around for Link, but he seemed to have disappeared.
Audrey led them through a dining room and into a large family room connected to a kitchen that was bigger than the bakery’s. And a million times more elegant. The children were playing with Legos on the floor of the family room, and the rest of Link’s family were scattered around the room in noisy clusters.
Shayla spotted Link’s grandmother sitting in an overstuffed chair in a corner of the room, hands on the arms of the chair. She was more petite than Shayla had imagined, but her white hair and queenly demeanor fit the image the name “CeeCee” conjured for her. Shayla halfway hoped Audrey would introduce her to CeeCee first, but instead she went over to Link’s father and sisters and another guy she didn’t recognize, who were deep in discussion.
“Grant? Girls?” She finally patted her husband’s arm to get his attention. They all turned and stared, looking as perplexed as Audrey had when she’d first seen Shayla. She was starting to get the impression that Link hadn’t told his family she was coming. She looked furtively around the room. Where was Link anyway?
Audrey steered Shayla beside her. “Do you girls know Shayla Michaels from Langhorne? And this is her niece, Portia.”
They all murmured hellos.
“Shayla, this is my daughter Corinne, and that’s Landyn and her husband, Chase. And you know Grant, I think.”
“Yes. Hi.” She gave an awkward wave, then turned to Landyn. “Nice to see you again.”
Landyn looked momentarily confused, and then recognition lit her eyes. “Oh! Of course. You’re from the bakery. You’re catering Bree and Drew’s wedding.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Audrey said. “I didn’t realize you girls had already met with Shayla.”
Landyn motioned toward Shayla’s head. “I didn’t recognize you with your hair down. Um, I think Bree’s upstairs with the babies if you need to talk to her.”
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