by Leger, Lori
Red shook Bill’s hand and hugged Gwen. “It’s about time you three got here. I was wondering if I’d have to send out a search party.”
Bill Broussard smiled and looked around at the place he’d sold to Red. “Does it feel like home yet?”
“Today it does, with the family all here. How about yours?”
“Just like you, any place I’m with my family feels like home.” Bill pulled Tiffany close for a hug. “And you are an unexpected surprise, little lady. It sure is good to see you here, Doc.”
“You too, Bill. How’ve you been?”
“Never better.” He smiled as his gaze followed Gwen and Alyssa. “I’ve got a new wife and step-daughter, and maybe one day we’ll add one or two. Life doesn’t get any better than this.”
The crowd inside the home suddenly got a lot louder with several different conversations going on at one time. Tiffany laughed as Jackson, once again, took the snapshot of the ultrasound out of his pocket to show it off to anyone who’d look. She felt her face flush with heat as Red lifted his gaze during another conversation to send her an encouraging smile.
The noise seemed to reach a crescendo, and she suddenly remembered Red’s statement from earlier. Something tells me you’re about to be overwhelmed.
The unaccustomed chaos of this many family members under one roof was a little overwhelming for someone with her upbringing. She headed for the patio doors, thinking she needed to catch her breath for a minute. Tiffany closed the door on the noise, and crossed her arms to ward off a chill. The humidity had dropped overnight, leaving brisk, dry air in its wake.
Closing her eyes, she lifted her face, inhaling the sweet, smoky scent of the oak logs burning in Red’s fireplace. She loved the smell, had yearned for a fireplace for years. Of course, Tanner didn’t care for them. It seemed to be a far more common occurrence for them to disagree than agree on any matter, whether it was his love life or preferences in apartment living.
Tiffany ran her hands through her straight blond hair. The act reminded her of one more reason to resent Tanner. She could still hear Red as he spoke about girls with brown eyes and curly hair. There’s no way he could know—could he? Surely, it was only wishful thinking on her part. Tiffany pushed the thought away as quickly as it came up. She was engaged to Tanner, and this infatuation with Red was curiosity—plain and simple—manifesting itself in the form of temporary physical attraction. She’d get over it.
She approached the large building lined with windows at the opposite end of the large patio. Tiffany peered through a window, but couldn’t see anything. She tested the doorknob, slightly surprised when it turned in her hand. She nudged the door open and peeked inside, gasping in appreciation at the huge indoor swimming pool. She walked over, squatting to dip her hand in the water.
“It’s heated, you know.”
Tiffany swiveled to see Vivienne McAllister standing at one of the windows. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” She stood, shaking off the water.
Vivienne smiled and handed her a towel. “I guess this is what people do when they have more money than they know what to do with. I’ve never had that particular affliction.” Vivienne smiled, not sounding particularly upset about it.
Tiffany shrugged. “I was raised with money.”
“You don’t seem all that pleased.”
“I don’t mind having money, but I’d rather work for what I have, not marry into it like my mother and grandmother did.”
“Red told me you have a brother. Is he a surgeon also?”
“No ma’am, an attorney.”
“A doctor and a lawyer—your parents must be proud.”
Tiffany gazed down at Vivienne McAllister, blinking several times at the sudden surfacing of tears. “Red said the same thing to me about three months ago.”
Vivienne placed a hand on her arm. “What’s wrong, dear?”
“Nothing.” Tiffany braced herself against the sudden urge to cry. She didn’t cry. She never cried. Who would she have cried to? She and Drake had only ever had Melinda, the Nanny and housekeeper who’d raised them. Something about Vivienne McAllister—some motherly nurturing quality—radiated trust. She brushed away the moisture at one corner of her eye. “Nothing. And everything.”
Vivienne led her to a comfy looking glider for two. “Sit.” She sat beside Tiffany and stroked her hair. “Now talk to me.”
Tiffany took one shaky breath before starting. “I’m engaged to a man I don’t love. My parents want me to marry him because his family has money.”
“Surely, you’re intelligent enough to know that money can’t replace happiness, Tiffany.”
“I do know that, Ms. Vivienne. My mother wants me to stop practicing medicine—just get married, pop out a couple of children and stay home, while my cheating husband does whatever he wants. I don’t think I can live like that.”
“And you shouldn’t have to,” Vivienne agreed.
“I know all men cheat, but—”
“Whoa!” Vivienne held up one hand. “Hold on a minute, honey. Not all men. If your fiancé cheats, maybe it’s time to cut him loose. Or at least let him know you won’t put up with it anymore. Why should he stop if you won’t make him?”
“You obviously don’t know Tanner.”
Vivienne nodded. “I’ve heard of him. And as for your mother—hasn’t she heard of maternity leave? I was a stay at home mother and I loved it, but my husband and I are very proud of our daughters who handle their careers and families beautifully. You’re too talented a surgeon to walk away from your career. People need you.”
Tiffany shook her head. “You make it sound so simple, but I have a difficult time standing up to my parents.”
Vivienne chuckled. “I’ve seen the handprint you left on my son’s face. You’re obviously stronger than you think.”
Tiffany looked mortified. “You know about that?”
“Yes, but I’d love to hear your version of the story.”
Tiffany filled Vivienne in on how Red had taken his sweet time to tell her about Tanner’s broken nose. “Red just wanted him to suffer. Of course, if he’d told me that Tanner had come on to Annie, I wouldn’t have slapped him.” Tiffany clenched both her hands into fists. “The thing is, I have all this pent up resentment for Tanner, you know?”
“I’ll know if you tell me.”
She looked at Vivienne. “For one thing, I’m so angry about my hair.”
“What about your hair, Tiffany? You have lovely hair. It’s very—polished—and—sophisticated.”
Tiffany shook her head. “It’s not me. I do this for Tanner. He’s got this idea that any woman who doesn’t have straight, blonde hair is beneath him. So, I go every two weeks to have my roots done, and I waste an hour every morning straightening my hair. An hour I could be doing other things that I want to do. I resent it. And I resent him the entire time I’m doing it. It makes me so sad that the man I’m supposed to marry doesn’t think I’m good enough the way I am.”
Vivienne stared at her, her mouth gaped open in obvious shock. “Are you telling me you have naturally, curly hair?”
“Yes ma’am—I do. Mousy brown, naturally curly hair.” She pointed with both hands to her hair. “This is not me.”
Vivienne shook her head. “Why would you go to so much trouble for a man who shows so little respect for you?”
Tiffany shrugged. “I thought if I tried my hardest, one day we could find a way to be happy with each other. You know, he even tried to convince me to wear blue tinted contacts once to change the color of my eyes. I don’t even need contacts.”
Vivienne’s voice rose in obvious anger. “Blonde hair and blue eyes—Who does he think he is, Adolf Hitler?” She leaned forward. “Find yourself, Tiffany. Not who anyone else wants you to be, but the person you’re meant to be. If the people who supposedly love you can’t accept that, then c’est la vie—that’s life.”
“So, you think I should call off my engagement?”
Vivi
enne lifted one hand. “I can’t tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. I don’t know Tanner. Do you think he’d change for you if you asked him to?”
Tiffany sighed. “I think even if he could, it’s too late. I’d never be able to trust him.”
“Well, I’m old enough to know that time is precious, dear. It’s foolish to waste it on something that can’t be.”
Tiffany shook her head. “My parents would have a fit.”
“They’ll accept it, eventually. I know this because my mother tried to marry me off to another man. Her ‘good catch’ was Marshall Baker. Good looking, conceited, and a perfectly awful dancer. But worse by far, was the fact that he loved flaunting his wealth. I’ve never been impressed by money.”
“I’m not either, Mrs. Vivienne.”
“Marshall asked me to go to a dance in town and I accepted because no one else asked me. I was seventeen years old, and I’ll never forget that night. Marshall had been stepping on my feet all night long. So I was glad to see him go outside with his buddies. I sat on a bench with my shoes off. When Pete McAllister walked up and asked me to dance, I nearly turned him down. I honestly didn’t think my toes could take anymore punishment.”
Vivienne smiled, as though reliving the moment. “Pete was four years older than I was, but we were both raised in the same small town. I knew who he was, but I’d never been that close to him before. I looked up into those blue eyes as he held his hand out to me. He said, ‘Come on, Vivi, give me a chance. I won’t hurt you, and I promise not to step on your toes.’ It turned out he was a wonderful dancer, and by the end of the song, I was head over heels.”
“What song was it?”
“All I Have to Do is Dream by the Everly Brothers. He told me later that he’d waited all night long for Marshall to leave me alone. As soon as he did, Pete went to the guy playing the records and paid him two dollars to play that song. Two bucks was a pretty good tip back then.”
Tiffany’s hand flew to her heart. “That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“It is, isn’t it? You see, Pete used to come to our farm to help my dad, because I didn’t have any brothers. One day dad asked him his opinion of Marshall Baker and Pete said he didn’t like him much. Dad told him he’d hate to see me end up with Marshall because Pete was too scared to do anything about it. Up until then Pete thought my father wanted me with Marshall.”
“How did your mother take the news?”
“Oh, she fussed awhile then let it go. She knew the McAllister’s were good people. She just didn’t want to see me struggle as a farmer’s wife like she had. The first time I ever went to Pete’s house, and I saw how his parents treated each other, I knew he’d be a wonderful husband. Those old people were crazy about each other. That’s just how Pete and I feel. I’ve told all my children never to settle for less, and so far, they’ve chosen well.” She smiled and placed her hand over Tiffany’s. “Are you feeling better now?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m okay,” Tiffany answered.
“Good, I’m getting hungry and it’s time to eat.”
They were talking amiably as they re-entered the kitchen. Tiffany met Red’s gaze as he walked over to meet them.
“Where’d you two go off to?”
“We had to check out that pool of yours, son. It’s impressive, I must say,” Vivienne said.
“It is.” He shrugged. “It came with the house. But, I love it. I swim every day now, when my other pool only got used half the year.”
“It seems like I remember someone saying you built your own pool. Is that true?”
“It is. I like to relieve stress by working with my hands.”
“I like to garden and run,” Tiffany said.
Red’s brow lifted, as though he were shocked at her admission. “You’re a jogger?”
“I don’t jog, I run. I have a lot of stress in my life.”
“So, you run away from it?” he asked.
She eyed him warily. “I wouldn’t say that.”
Vivienne cleared her throat. “I’m starving! Is it time to eat?” She took Tiffany’s arm and whisked her away from Red, but not before she aimed a glare in her son’s direction.
Within seconds, everyone broke into action, setting the massive dining room table Red had purchased for family gatherings such as this one. Between the table, breakfast table, and island, he had seating for thirty people. Red waited for his sisters to serve and seat the children first, before asking his dad to give the blessing.
He watched Tiffany bow her head in silent prayer, slightly surprised when she crossed herself afterwards. He had no idea she was Catholic.
As the formal dining table filled with adults, Red realized he was lacking one chair. He grabbed one from the breakfast table and placed it between his mom and Tiffany, winking at her curious look. “It’s kind of funny—this table looked plenty big enough in that furniture showroom.”
Tiffany gave a low chuckle. “My parents throw dinner parties all the time and I think their table only seats sixteen.”
“What if someone shows up unexpectedly?” Red asked.
She plastered an appalled look on her face. “That doesn’t happen at those kinds of dinner parties.”
Red laughed. “I guess not. Did you go to many of them?”
“My brother and I were forced to attend many as we got older. They weren’t much fun, I assure you.”
He leaned close to her. “And, are you having fun today?”
She gave him a shy smile. “I’m beginning to.”
“Good.”
Tiffany served herself a portion of turkey and took a bite. “Who baked the bird, Red? It’s perfect.”
He smiled. “That would be me.”
“You cook?” she asked.
Red gazed at her over his fork. “You seem surprised. What, I’m not the Neanderthal you thought I was, Tiffy?”
Her words belied her sugary sweet tone. “If you call me that again I might have to hurt you.”
He gave her a sly smile. “I’d like to see you try.”
“You know, someone just told me I’m a lot tougher than I look.” She sent his mother a secretive smile.
“I don’t doubt that for one bit, but I’d still like to see you try.” Red forced his gaze from her before she’d see just how serious he was.
Red and his guests spent the next forty-five minutes dining on the delicious array of foods as laughter and discussions about everything from politics to sports filled the air.
“Do you watch football?” Red asked her.
“Of course I watch football,” she replied.
“But when the Saints play the Texans or the Cowboys—who do you pull for?” Conversation came to a dead stop as all heads turned toward her.
Tiffany’s jaw dropped as she faced off with him. “That was low, Red—even for you.”
“Hey, you being from Texas and all, I thought maybe you have allegiances to teams from your home state.” He smothered a grin as she balled her napkin in one hand.
“You know,” she said, her tone hard and serious, “I’ve got roots in this state, too. My father was born and raised in Louisiana, and I’ve been a resident for half my life. That was totally uncalled for.”
He grinned smugly. “Just answer the question … Tiffy.”
She wiped her mouth on the cloth napkin then threw it deliberately on the table as though challenging him. “Of course I pull for the Saints, and when I’m not pulling for the Saints I bleed LSU purple and gold.” Everyone broke into applause.
“She must have roots in Louisiana, because we’re seeing a little of that Ragin’ Cajun right now,” Pete commented.
“It’s Red’s rudeness that brought it out,” Bailey added.
Red met the glares of his family members and raised a hand in self-defense. “I had to ask!” He was met with a chorus of boos and hisses.
Tiffany leaned closer to speak lowly into his ear. “They don’t like you much right now.”
“Easy
fix.” He stood and addressed the rowdy gang. “Who wants dessert?” He sent her a wink as the jeers turned to cheers. Hands flew up around the table. “You see? All you have to do is satisfy their sweet tooth and they’re your best friend.” Everyone got up to check out the array of pies, cookies, candies, and other desserts that were set out on the huge buffet.
“Oh, where’s that pudding?” Giselle asked, reminding Red to get it out of the fridge. “My babies want pudding!”
“What kind of pudding is this?” Kathleen asked, as she eyed the luscious looking concoction covered with whipped cream.
“Ba-na-na…Our favorite, isn’t it twins?” Giselle patted her belly.
Jackson came back with a dessert bowl filled with it and handed it to her. She took a bite and her eyes widened. “This isn’t pudding from a box is it?” She licked her spoon. “It’s fantastic.”
Tiffany shook her head. “No, it’s homemade. I got the recipe from one of the nurses I work with. I made a double recipe, but I clearly underestimated the guest list. I should have quadrupled it.”
After a few minutes of everyone scrambling to get pudding, Red began to worry. “Now, look here. This is my house, and I don’t mind having to squeeze a chair in from the kid’s table, but I’m telling y’all now, I want some of that pudding.”
“Here, pass this to him.” Annie handed down the casserole dish and it eventually made its way to Red.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about,” he said, reaching for the now empty dish. “Oh, come on.” He turned to his mother. “Mom, remind these people. What do I ask for every year instead of birthday cake?”
“You ask for banana pudding,” she said.
“You see? Y’all know it’s my favorite.”
“Here—you big baby.” Bailey passed him a dessert bowl containing some pudding. “We dished it out so everyone would have some.”
“Thank you.” He took a bite and closed his eyes to savor it. “Doc, this is excellent.”
“Tiffany, anytime you come to our house for a meal, you’re designated to bring this for dessert,” Giselle added.
“I can do that.” Tiffany sat down with a saucer laden with homemade fudge, divinity and pralines.