by Eryn Scott
I almost got mad at her for being so friendly with the new guy in our mother’s life, but then I remembered I wanted my mom to be happy. I liked Duncan, and I didn’t care he was moving into my childhood home.
“Oh, Peps.” Maggie’s eyes lit up as she noticed me. “Duncan was just telling me some of the craziest stories about the favors his actors used to ask him.”
Up until last summer, Duncan had been a manager to some pretty big-name stars in Hollywood.
I smiled and said, “Fun!” instead of jabbing her with an elbow and reminding her we were supposed to be mad at him together.
“I have to say,” Maggie sighed and glanced around. “I had a little bit of trouble with it at first, but…” Maggie nodded approvingly. “Your stuff looks really good in here.”
Wrinkling my nose, I popped some undefined puff pastry into my mouth and pretended to be too invested in chewing to add my two cents. At twenty-eight, Maggie was five years older than me, so I supposed it made sense for her to have a more mature take on the situation. But still, I hated being alone in my discomfort.
Duncan beamed at Maggie and then me, but then my mother entered the room and the man practically glowed. He wrapped an arm around Mom’s waist, handed her a glass, and then raised his own.
“Well, now we’re all here, I’d love to make a toast.”
Alex showed up next to me, handing over a glass of sparkling wine.
“While I would love to thank you, Lilly, and your beautiful family for accepting me so generously into their lives, I would be completely remiss to leave out the most important person in this equation. So this evening, I propose the most hearty of toasts to the unforgettable Jackson Brooks.”
Hearing Duncan say my father’s name felt like a slap to the face. And from the way the rest of the people in the room were blinking and gripping their drinks tight, I would say I wasn’t the only one. As if he could read my thoughts and knew I needed a little more support, Alex slid his arm around my shoulders, pulling me tight to him.
“I’ve seen a lot of families in my day, a lot of heartache, too.” Duncan stopped and smiled sadly at my mother.
And it hit me. Other than the nature of his previous job, I knew very little about Duncan’s life. I had no idea what he’d gone through before meeting my mother.
Taking a deep breath, Duncan continued. “But never have I encountered a family hold so fiercely to the memory of one man while, at the same time, moving on with their lives so gracefully. He must’ve been a special man to illicit such a perfect legacy.”
A hot tear dripped onto my arm and I realized I was crying.
Duncan raised his glass higher. “So this is for you, Jackson. This family of yours needs no looking after in your wake. But I sure am glad they decided to look after me.”
We all raised our glasses, clinking them together while saying either, “To Dad” or “To Jackson.” Tears glinted in the corners of Mom’s eyes and I noticed Maggie had a few tears running down her face just like me. Once I’d touched everyone else’s glass with my own, I took a long sip, letting the bubbles fizz and run down my throat.
In that moment, I was reminded once again of Thoreau’s saying, “Things do not change; we change.” And I could… would. Just because I’d had a hard time accepting Duncan into my family at first didn’t mean it always had to be that way, and just because Dad was gone didn’t mean we were doing anything wrong by letting someone else into our lives.
Glancing over at the family room where the kids were still playing, unaware of the sniffly-emotion-fest happening in the kitchen, my attention fell on a beautiful, carved-wood end table.
“Maggie’s right, Duncan. You have some beautiful pieces. They really do look good in here.” I motioned to the table.
Duncan said thank you, but was quickly interrupted by Josh who sighed and said, “Okay, but now can we finally talk about the most important thing in the room?”
We all blinked, everyone seeming just as unsure as I was about what Josh was referring to.
“The elephant?” Josh looked to me. “Pepper being held at gunpoint by someone in the very fraternity which your dad helped create thirty years ago.” He glanced around the kitchen. “Am I the only one who finds this crazy?”
“Technically, the killer wasn’t part of the fraternity,” I said, holding up a finger to correct Josh. But then I exhaled loudly. “You’re right that it was crazy, though. I have to say, I thought I was stressed out with grad classes and the bookstore, but I think my mini vacation from both made me miss my normal life, as hectic as it can be at times. I’m just glad everything worked out relatively well in the end.”
Not only had the paramedics been able to get the fraternity members to the hospital in time to save them from the copious amounts of hard alcohol Liam had dumped down their throats, but Matt had finally woken up and was headed out of intensive care. He’d been able to identify Liam as his attacker, not that the police needed him to; they’d found one of Liam’s prints on the knife Sheriff Langley had finally turned in, after a little pressing from a fellow TriAlpha. I sent a silent thank you to Mr. Wilford.
“Did you see Gregory Wilford put out a press release about the fraternity, calling all alumni to cease and desist any special treatment for other members or they would be answering to the police?” Mom asked, of course latching onto the legal aspect of the case.
I nodded, smiling at the article he’d gotten Chloe to write up for him. “Yeah, I can’t believe he’s stepping down as dean of students, but I’m happy he made an example of Sheriff Langley by calling him out on his obstruction of justice.”
“I’m just grateful he didn’t include Dad’s name in any of it. That was a pretty big deal for him to take credit for the whole idea,” Maggie said.
“I don’t think your father or Gregory could’ve ever foreseen it growing into what it did,” Mom added.
“It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see,” I said with a shrug. Everyone turned to me. “Dad looked at Thoreau’s work and saw empowerment, a call to action, a chance to better our lives and others’. Liam saw an excuse to eschew the law and take a situation into his own hands.” I looked down at my glass. “I’m just sorry I ever questioned Dad, that I ever thought he could have any part in the darkness which overcame the fraternity.”
Mom placed a supportive hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. I glanced over at Alex, expecting him to chastise me for yet another Thoreau quote.
Instead, he said, “It’s not until we are lost that we begin to find ourselves.”
A big smile spread across my face. “I thought you hated Thoreau.”
He shrugged. “He’s growing on me. Plus, I paraphrased that quote.”
“Oh, I know,” I said with a wink. “But I love you for it anyway.”
Previous books in this series…
Literally Dead
Literally Murder
Literally Gone
Also by Eryn Scott
Next in the Pepper Brooks Cozy Mystery series!
And don’t miss Eryn Scott’s new series… Farmers Market Mysteries.
Sign up for Eryn’s newsletter for information on sales and releases.
About the Author
Eryn Scott lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and their quirky animals. She loves classic literature, musicals, knitting, and hiking. She writes women’s fiction and cozy mysteries.
Join her mailing list to learn about new releases and sales!
www.erynwrites.com
[email protected]
" class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share