“So far I’m right on target,” I said as evenly as I could manage.
She arched a perfectly feathered blond brow. “And your doctor agrees?”
I had hoped to postpone the lying part of the program a little longer, but we were off and running. “So far.”
She linked arms with me. “How’s your appetite?”
“Terrific.”
“You’re a good eater?”
I started to laugh. “Five veg and three fruit every day.” Not to mention Chips Ahoy, Ben & Jerry’s, and a side of grilled cheese, but there was no need for full disclosure.
“We’re a nosy tribe,” she said. “Give it a few years. You’ll get used to us.”
She talked about the future like it was a sure thing, like she could see down the years straight through to the happy ending no Hobbs woman had ever managed.
But I didn’t have time to dwell on that. Bunny MacKenzie was a human question machine. She lobbed them at me the way the pitching machine lobbed softballs at the Sugar Maple Driving Range and Batting Cage.
“So who was that you were talking to by your truck?”
I stared at her like English was my second language. “What?”
She gave me a patient smile. “That woman you were talking to near the truck. Was she a friend of yours?”
Crap. Had she actually seen us talking to Elspeth? There was no way I could explain the existence of a three-foot-tall troll with hair the color of a yellow cab.
“A business acquaintance owns the inn,” I said, stumbling all over my words. It wasn’t an answer, but maybe Bunny wouldn’t notice.
Fat chance of that.
“So she’s the owner?”
“One of the workers.”
“I feel like I’ve seen her before.”
I shot Bunny a look. “Have you been to the inn before?”
“Never, but there was something very familiar about her. I actually thought she looked a bit like Betty White.” She gave a little laugh. “Oh, well. That’s what happens when you get to be my age, honey. Sooner or later everyone looks familiar.”
Luke and I were surrounded by a mob of people the second we stepped into the dining room, most of whom bore at least a fleeting resemblance to the father of my baby. Tall. Good-looking. Gregarious. And did I mention loud?
They were also the huggingest bunch I’d ever met. I was passed from one pair of arms to the next like a giant stuffed toy as faces and names flew past at the speed of light.
Ten seconds and already I was in family overload. All of the prep work I’d done on Facebook flew right out the window. They could have been the Trapp Family Singers or the Brady Bunch for all I could comprehend. Score another one for pregnancy brain.
I looked toward Luke for support but he was equally surrounded by MacKenzies of varying ages and sizes, most of whom were reading him the riot act for staying away for so long. He caught my eye and gave me one of those I told you so looks that would have made me laugh if I hadn’t been drowning in questions.
I started throwing answers out there like Frisbees, hoping against hope the right MacKenzie would catch them.
“I’m in my ninth month ... a girl ... no, we don’t have a name yet ... we’re not married ... no, we’re not engaged ... yes, we’re totally committed ... I don’t know ... I don’t know ... Help!”
I didn’t actually scream “help,” but I came close. I’d chaired contentious town hall meetings with ghosts, vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters, witches, and a sleep-deprived mountain giant that were easier.
Not to mention a whole lot quieter.
A pregnant woman around my age put her arm around me and leaned close. “I don’t know about you, Chloe, but if I don’t eat something in the next thirty seconds I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”
“I don’t know who you are,” I said, “but if you lead me to the Belgian waffles, I’ll send your kid to Harvard.” Even if the waffles did smell an awful lot like Elspeth.
“I’m Kim Davenport, Luke’s older sister and I just might take you up on your offer.”
I looked down at her moderate bump. “April?” I asked.
“Tax Day.” She rolled her eyes. “How’s that for timing?”
“I can beat that,” I said. “Try January first.”
She burst into laughter. “I love it! Little brother misses out on a big deduction.”
“You’re the financial analyst, right?”
“Guilty.”
She led me toward a table groaning with waffles, pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and every baked good you could possibly imagine. An omelet station occupied the far corner of the room, right near an open bar serving delicious-looking mimosas.
“I’d kill for one of those,” Kim said.
“I’m a wine-in-the-box kind of girl myself, but I could definitely use one or three of them.”
“Tell me about it.”
I arched a brow in her direction. “At least you don’t need name tags to keep everyone straight.”
“Want to bet?” she tossed back. “This is maybe half the clan. Just wait until you experience a MacKenzie Thanksgiving.”
“I’ll be happy if I survive this MacKenzie brunch.”
“We’re loud, pushy, and opinionated, but we mean well.”
“If you’re trying to calm me down, it’s not working.”
“Seriously,” Kim said. “We all know you’re the only reason Luke’s here today.”
Dangerous territory. I wasn’t about to risk stepping on a familial land mine. “I’m glad we came,” I said carefully.
She grinned and a look passed between us. I sensed I might have made a friend. Then again, I couldn’t be sure. I was the outsider here, in ways she couldn’t imagine. Still, we were setting up the boundaries, writing the guidebook on the fly. My loyalties belonged first and foremost to Luke and to our baby, but it was good to know I might have an ally in the family.
Not that I was thinking in terms of alliances, but, like I told you before, I watch a lot of television and from what I’d observed, families were as much about conflict as they were about coming together. And big families even more so.
Luke and I were never going to fit into the fabric of the MacKenzie tapestry the way his brothers and sisters and their families did. Sooner or later we were going to disappoint Bunny and Jack and that was when we’d need someone in-house to plead our case and I was pretty sure Kim would be the one.
Actually I had expected the baby of the family, Meghan, to be our advocate. I knew she was Luke’s favorite, but she’d phoned Bunny and claimed they were delayed by the snow but would try to make it.
And we all know what that means.
“Probably that boyfriend of hers,” Bunny said with a sharp look of disapproval. “I wish she would meet a nice young man and settle down. Is that too much to ask?”
“Leave her alone, Ma,” Luke said. “Keep pushing and she’ll end up living with a rock star in Vegas.”
“Maybe you know somebody she could go out with,” Bunny said to me. “Some handsome, unattached boy in your charming little village.”
I choked on a bite of waffle and had to wash it down with a gulp of juice. The thought of Luke’s sister hooking up with any of Sugar Maple’s unattached males made me break out in hives. Our secrets would be on the Internet before we knew what hit us.
“So where is this little village of yours?” big brother Ronnie asked as we settled down at the huge table.
“You know where it is,” Luke jumped in. “You’ve been on my ass about it since I took the job.”
“I’m making conversation,” Ronnie said with a wink in my direction. “I’ve been told I’m very good at it.”
Clearly Luke wasn’t in the mood for fraternal banter. “Let her eat first,” he all but growled. “We’ve been on the road since eight this morning.”
“You can talk with your mouth full,” Ronnie said to me with a wicked grin very much like Luke’s. “I don’t mind.”
“Northern Vermont,” I said, forking a piece of ham and a wedge of golden waffle dripping with syrup. “A really tiny village called Sugar Maple.”
“You should see the town,” Bunny enthused. “It’s a quintessential New England hamlet.”
“Quintessential! Listen to her.” Luke’s sister-in-law Tiffany elbowed the man next to her. I assumed he was her husband Kevin. “Breaking out the multisyllables for Luke’s—” She stopped dead, clearly uncertain what to call me.
“Lover,” Jen said, raising her mimosa in a toast. “I think that’s pretty evident.”
An uncomfortable silence fell across the table. I felt heat moving its way up my throat and spreading across my cheeks. I looked over at Luke and noted that one of those little muscles in the side of his jaw had begun to twitch. Yes, we were lovers, but there was something else in that statement that neither of us liked.
“I prefer partner,” Kim said, reaching for her glass of orange juice sans champagne.
“I don’t go for that partner stuff,” patriarch Jack said with a disapproving glance our way. “You have a husband. You have a wife. That’s the way it should be.”
“Or you can have two husbands or two wives,” Kim said with a wink.
“What’s wrong with you, Kimberly Marie? You know better than to get him started on that,” Bunny chided her oldest daughter, to applause from the rest of the family. “Let’s all just agree to disagree with your father and be done with it.”
Personally I was all for a rousing discussion of gay marriage and civil unions. Anything to take the spotlight off the subject of Sugar Maple, but the MacKenzies were back on topic.
Me.
“So you were saying you were born in Sugar Maple,” Bunny prodded me while I prodded my waffle with the tines of my fork.
I gave her my best smile. “Almost thirty years ago.”
“Where are your people from?”
My people? Now things were about to get tricky. I didn’t have any people.
“My mother was born in Sugar Maple also.”
“How about your father?”
“C’mon, Ma,” Luke broke in. “You sound like a prosecuting attorney I used to know.”
“Not that awful David Devaney,” Jen said with a shake of her head. “I dated him before I met Paul. The man had a comb-over you could hide Donald Trump under.” She shuddered and everyone laughed.
“You’re being rude,” Bunny snapped. “All of you. We’re getting to know Chloe, not talking about old boyfriends.” She shot her daughter a meaningful look, the kind meant to bring a grown woman to her knees.
I didn’t know about Jen, but it definitely worked on me. I was moving swiftly into a state of high anxiety and I knew what that meant. My fingertips were starting to tingle and I hoped I wasn’t about to spontaneously flambé Jack’s omelet.
I’d managed to explain away the flamethrowing incident during the Black Friday sale at Sticks & Strings, but there was no way Bunny would buy it a second time.
“And your father?” Bunny persisted. “So where was Mr. Hobbs from?”
Mr. Hobbs? There was no Mr. Hobbs. Why hadn’t I thought this through? I had been so busy memorizing MacKenzie photos and mini bios that I had totally forgotten to get my own highly edited bio in order.
“He . . . uh . . . my father wasn’t Mr. Hobbs.” I told myself there was no reason to be embarrassed, but I felt exactly the way I had during my brief enrollment at BU. A half human, half sorceress with a size nine foot firmly planted in both worlds and unable to explain my position in either one.
“Your mother married twice?” Bunny kept her eye on the ball.
“Only once,” I said. “Guinevere kept her own name when they married.”
“Guinevere,” Kim said with a theatrical sigh. “That’s a beautiful name.”
I flashed a grateful smile.
“So what’s your father’s name?” Jen asked, spooning oatmeal into the mouth of the very small child who had suddenly appeared on her lap. “I’m guessing Arthur.”
“Ted Aubry,” I said, maybe a tad more harshly than intended, but the stress was definitely getting to me. I wasn’t sure if I had imagined the note of snark beneath her playful words.
“Where was he from?” Bunny asked, leaning forward.
“Maine.”
“Are his people still up there?”
I could feel the air leave my lungs on a whoosh of surprise. “What?”
“His people,” she repeated. “Brothers, sisters, cousins. You must have relatives up there, right?”
Suddenly English was no longer my first language and I struggled to make sense of her question. All the planning, all the years of parroting the same story over and over again, and here was the one question nobody had ever asked me.
I could feel myself coming apart like a poorly knit sweater, loose ends flying everywhere. I was a Hobbs woman through and through. My memories of my father were sweetly fading shadows compared to the vibrant light cast by my magick heritage. No Aubry had ever shown up in Sugar Maple searching for Ted or the little girl he left behind.
Years of longing rose up in me like some monster wave and brought with them memories I thought I’d managed to bury with newer, better ones. I was the one who was different. The girl who never quite fit in anywhere she went. The angry teenager with a chip on her all-too-human shoulder.
They were all there, all gathered inside my heart and mind, and probably always would be.
“My mother was a spinner. My father was a carpenter from Maine. They met, they fell in love, they married, and when I was six they died in a car crash. I have no one left.” I took a deep breath and tried to quell the tingling in my fingertips. “Any more questions?”
Sister Jen aimed her electric blue eyes in my direction. “So are you Catholic?”
I was out of there.
11
LUKE
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I exploded the moment Chloe cleared the doorway. “Couldn’t you see she was upset?” I was surprised they hadn’t noticed the smoke beginning to pour from her fingertips. We were lucky she hadn’t activated the sprinkler system.
“All we did was ask about her family,” my mother said, spreading her hands wide. “I ask everyone about their family. What’s so terrible about that?”
Where do I start?
“You could have at least warned us,” my brother Ronnie said as he crunched into a cream-cheesed bagel. “How were we supposed to know her parents died in a car crash?”
“Ronnie’s right.” Now my brother Kevin was adding his two cents to the discussion. “If you weren’t holed up in fucking Ben & Jerry land all these months, maybe we’d know what the hell was going on with you.”
Was he right? Yeah, in a way he was.
Was I going to cop to it? Hell, no.
“Leave him alone, Kev.” His wife, Tiffany, placed a hand on his forearm, but he shook it off. “It’s your brother’s life.”
“He’s a selfish asshole,” Kevin said and dared me to contradict him.
“Hey, little brother, you’re the one who went off to Rome for three years,” I shot back.
“That was work.”
“So was this.”
Kevin mumbled something under his breath and I felt like knocking him on his ass.
“You got something to say to me, say it.” I sounded like an outtake from an old Clint Eastwood movie.
He shot me the same look he used to aim at me when we were in high school and competing for a spot on the football team. I liked it even less today than I did then.
“Still an asshole,” I said, shaking my head. “Good to know some things never change.”
“Put a sock in it,” my father said, not missing a bite, “or you idiots won’t have anything left to fight about on Christmas.”
Everyone but me laughed.
“This was supposed to be a friendly family get-together,” I said, still steaming, “not an inquisition. Lay off the questi
ons when Chloe comes back, okay? If you want to know something, ask me.”
“In-qui-si-tion,” Ronnie said dryly. “Four syllables. The boy must be pissed.”
“Pissed? Yeah, I’m pissed. She’s nine months pregnant and we drive down here in a friggin’ snowstorm so you can grill her like a slab of bacon? I told her this wasn’t a good idea. Thanks for proving me right.”
“She didn’t look that upset to me,” my father said, stuffing his face with blueberry pancakes dripping with maple syrup.
“She was,” I said. “Trust me on that one.”
“She got up and went to the bathroom. What’s the big deal?”
“Not every woman’s a yeller, Dad,” Ronnie’s wife, Denise, jumped in. “She looked the way I felt the first time I ran the MacKenzie gauntlet.”
“Tell me about it,” Tiffany said with an eye roll. “I still have nightmares.”
“A couple MacKenzie family outings should get her up to speed.” This from Jenny’s husband, Paul, who still had his own set of scars.
Not only didn’t they get it, they weren’t even close to getting it. I had seen her deal with her very human customers and their nosy questions and she never once tripped over the dividing line between the public story and the truth.
But those times her emotions hadn’t been involved.
Pregnancy and magick were a dangerous combination. Spend nine months living with a pregnant sorceress and you would know what I’m talking about. I’d seen the telltale signs of imminent flamethrowing and figured she was soaking her hands in a basin of cold water to keep it under control. Either that or she was burning down the outbuildings in the back.
I pushed back my chair and stood. “I’m going to see how she is.”
“Oh, no, you’re not.” My mother fixed me with a steely glance. “You’ll get in that truck of yours and we won’t see you for another two years.”
“I’m not looking to sneak out,” I lied.
The laughter wasn’t pretty.
“You haven’t seen your family in a very long time,” she said over the catcalls. “Stay put. I’ll check on Chloe.”
“You stay put, too, Mom,” Kim ordered. “You grill Luke about why they aren’t married while I handle reconnaissance.”
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