Alli nodded and dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief, sneaking a peek across the room. “Thanks, Cass—you have no idea how much I needed this.”
Cassie grinned. “Sure I do—you did the same for me with Jamie, remember?”
An unladylike snort rolled from Alli’s lips. “Yes, but I sure didn’t want to. I wanted to slap him silly, but Bram said he was already slapping himself enough for the both of us.”
“Very true,” Cassie said with a mischievous smile. “I’m surprised you didn’t use a stick.”
“Don’t think he’s off the hook yet.” Alli pushed her chair out and rose with a stretch. “If that man gloats over trouncing me in chess one more time, I just may.”
A husky laugh escaped Cassie’s lips, confirming what they all knew—Alli might be a poor loser, but Jamie MacKenna was a poor winner, wearing his victories—which were considerable in boxing and pool—like a badge of honor. “Don’t worry, Al, after he wins upstairs, the boy will be in dire need of humility.” She wiggled her brows, obviously anticipating matching skills at pool with the love of her life. “And I’m just the woman to teach it.”
“Meg?” Alli peered out into the dark veranda of her mother’s study, relieved to find her sister huddled on the far end of the wrought-iron settee. “What are you doing out here by yourself, sweetie?” She eased the French door open. “Everybody’s looking for you.”
Her sister glanced up, and Alli’s stomach clenched when she saw her face glistening in the moonlight, slick with tears. A frail heave shuddered from Meg’s lips, and Alli rushed to her side, gathering her in a tight hug. “Oh, Meggie, what’s wrong?” she whispered.
“I . . . I’m so s-scared to go . . . ,” Meg said, her broken whisper wrenching Alli’s heart.
She pulled away to brace Meg’s swollen face in her hands. “But, why? You loved the Rousseaus when we stayed with them three years ago, and you and Lily were the best of friends.”
Meg sniffed and swiped her eyes with the side of her hand. “I . . . kn-know, but what if she’s changed? What if she turns on me like Ann and Eva, treating me like I have the plague?”
Alli caressed her sister’s face, aching at the way her sister’s so-called friends had turned on her after Devin Caldwell humiliated Meg at several social functions. “She won’t, Megs, I promise. You and Lily have too much in common—you’re both kind and gentle young women who are at the top of your class. Frankly, I think Ann and Eva might be a bit jealous because you always excel in school and they don’t.” She swept a stray curl from her sister’s face. “And you and I both know that’s the whole reason Devin Caldwell has always picked on you like he has. The little worm can’t stand you besting him over and over again.”
The faintest of smiles tipped Meg’s mouth. “He may be a worm, Al, but we both know he’s not so little anymore.” Her shoulders hunched in a cumbersome sigh. “He’s as tall as Uncle Logan and just as handsome . . . the little twerp.”
Alli chuckled, surprised her sweet little sister would utter a negative word about anybody. “Goodness, I never thought I’d see the day! Devin Caldwell has been a thorn in your side forever, Megs, so it’s about time you call a spade a spade and a worm a worm. I’d think you’d be thrilled to go to Paris and put an ocean between you and that little brat.”
Her smile faded all over again. “I am, Al, but I’m going to miss everyone so much.”
“Likewise,” Alli said with another quick hug. She buffed her sister’s arms. “But you know what? Something deep down inside tells me Paris is going to be good for you, Megs. A chance to put your childhood behind and blossom into the woman God intends for you to be.”
Tears welled in Meg’s eyes. “Oh, Al, do you really think so?”
Alli squeezed her hand. “I do,” she whispered, “and I have prayers to back it up.”
Meg’s full lips flickered into a shy smile. “That’s what Bram always says, that God has a plan and purpose for me that will take me by surprise.”
“He’s right, you know,” Alli said with a tender smile. “You should listen to him.”
Meg nodded, her watery gaze fixed on the moon-striped bay. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without him, Al,” she whispered. “Bram’s always been my best friend, making me feel pretty and feminine when other boys tore me down.” Her lower lip quivered. “How am I going to survive without him?”
Alli kissed her cheek. “By the grace of God, Meggie, the same God who’s loved you and shown you just how special you are through the kindness and favor of one Bram Hughes.”
A gentle smile curved on Megan’s lips. “He has, hasn’t He?” She exhaled slowly, as if dispelling all doubt. “Somehow I’ve always felt God’s love through Bram’s friendship, and I just have to believe that when I’m in Paris, I’ll feel His strength through Bram’s prayers too.”
“And mine as well, don’t forget, and Mother’s and Cassie’s too.” She patted Meg’s arm and rose. “And speaking of prayers, we better pray there’s cake left, ’cause Rosie was just delivering your farewell chocolate cake to the parlour before I came looking for you. So we best hightail it before it’s all gone.” She extended her hand. “Ready?”
Meg stood, shoulders square and voice steady as she clasped her sister’s hand, her sweet face aglow with a shy innocence that was uniquely Meg. “You know what, Al?” she whispered, her impish smile so like a little girl on the verge of becoming a woman. “I think I am.”
14
There better be cake left or else . . .” Hunger rumbling in her stomach, Alli ushered Meg into the parlour, the laughter of family helping to dispel her melancholy over a sister who would soon be gone.
“Goodie! They’re back—can we have cake now, Mama, please?” Maddie whirled around on her mother’s lap, interrupting a focused game of cribbage with Uncle Logan.
“You bet, squirt,” Uncle Logan said, reaching to tug her pigtail while he slipped Alli’s mother a grin, deftly executing a move in the game. “Especially since I just skunked your mother again.”
Her mother’s smile tipped as she gave Maddie a hug. “Blake, darling,” she said with a glance over her shoulder to where her son was snitching a cherry off Meg’s cake. “Be a dear and move Rosie’s cutting knife to the far side of the table so I’m not tempted to use it.” She gave Logan a droll smile. “But hand me the cake server, please, the one with the very sharp point.”
Alli grinned along with Uncle Logan as he gave her mother a wink. “Ouch. Come on, Cait—you know you don’t mean that.”
“Actually, Logan, I don’t know that at all,” she said with a sweet smile. She kissed Maddie’s head and rose. “Guess what, sweetheart? You get to share cake with Uncle Logan.”
“Whoopee!” the little tyke shouted, bouncing up and down in her arms.
“Pardon me, Miss Caitlyn,” Hadley said at the door, “Mr. Andrew Turner to see you.”
Uncle Logan scowled. “Turner? What in tarnation is he doing here?”
“Thank you, Hadley,” her mother said with a warm smile before she flashed Uncle Logan a look of warning. “Andrew is here to drop off a report for the Vigilance Committee, Logan, so I’d appreciate you keeping your comments to yourself.”
Something Uncle Logan obviously didn’t consider an option. “You know how I feel about Turner, Cait,” he groused, “and yet here you are, entertaining an archenemy of mine.”
Releasing a weary sigh, she handed Maddie to Uncle Logan with a patient pat of his cheek. “It’s not entertaining, Logan, it’s business, and just because you had a falling out with your best friend in college is no reason for me not to treat him with the civility he deserves. Especially as a member of the Vigilance Committee assisting me on an important project.”
Logan grunted, ignoring Maddie as she attempted to crawl over his shoulder. “Monkey business if I know Turner, and I’d think you’d exercise extreme caution with a man who worshiped you from afar before you married Liam.”
“Honestly, Logan, sometimes I
don’t know who’s the bigger juvenile—you or Blake.”
“I vote for Blake,” Jamie volunteered from across the room.
Caitlyn ignored them to brush a kiss to Maddie’s cheek. “I’ll be back soon, honey, so you enjoy cake with Uncle Logan and don’t worry about getting it on your dress or on Uncle Logan’s clean white shirt because tonight is bath night, all right?”
“Really, Mama? Gee whiz, that’s swell!”
“No, not really,” Logan said with a pinch of Maddie’s waist, eyeing her mother with a mock scowl. “Your mother’s just being a sore loser.”
“So that’s where I get it!” Alli made a beeline for the cake, slapping Blake’s hand when he attempted to filch another cherry. “Thank heavens the vultures didn’t cut it yet.”
Cassie took a sip of her coffee, giving Alli a wink over the rim of her cup. “Well, it wasn’t easy reining them in because the natives were restless.”
“Restless, huh?” Alli directed Meg to the seat of honor on the sofa between Bram and Blake, where her farewell cake sat on the coffee table waiting to be cut and served.
“Uh, not sure ‘restless’ is the right word, Cowgirl.” Jamie snatched a Hershey bar from a candy bowl and tore the wrapper off, crumpling it in a ball. He bounced it off Blake’s nose, then strolled over to hand a piece to Maddie.
“Oh, sure, give her more chocolate, why don’t you?” Logan muttered.
Jamie strolled to the love seat and offered Cassie a piece before tossing one in his mouth. “Humiliated might be a better word,” he continued, his smile edging toward cocky, “since I walloped several unlucky natives tonight.”
“Hey, I’m not unlucky,” Bram said. He draped a casual arm over Meg’s shoulder, blue eyes twinkling as he offered a lazy smile that lit up his handsome face. “I get to sit with the goodbye girl, and I’ll just bet she’ll give me the first piece, won’t you, Bug?”
Meg giggled, her full cheeks pink as she peeked up at Bram with adoration.
“And I get the second, right, Megs?” her brother chimed in, hooking Meg’s waist. “So you won the round of pool, MacKenna, but you’re clearly the loser here.”
“Loser?” Jamie polished off the Hershey bar with a quick brush of palms before settling in next to Cassie. “Could you define that please? I don’t believe that word’s in my vocabulary.”
Cassie patted his arm with a wry smile. “Neither is humility, darling, but I’ll educate you later in a private game of pool.”
“Mmm . . . ‘private,’ you say?” Jamie asked, attempting to steal a kiss before Cassie slapped him away.
The edge of Alli’s lips tipped as she cut the cake, handing the first piece to Meg. “Thank goodness you’re better in pool than he is, Cass, or he’d be impossible to live with.”
“Hey, can I help it if I’m good at everything I do?” Jamie tweaked the back of Cassie’s neck, grinning when she swatted him away.
“Not everything,” Alli said with a sly smile. She handed cake off to Maddie and Uncle Logan before turning to give Cassie a wink. “How much you wanna bet I can level you flat in a sport of my choosing, MacKenna?”
A pucker of disbelief wedged above Jamie’s nose. “You—Allison ‘Read ’em and Weep’ McClare—beat me at a sport?” He folded his arms with a dare of a smile. “That I’d like to see.”
“You know, I was hoping you’d say that.” She bent to cut more cake for Cassie and him, then handed his piece over with a waggle of brows. “Savor your dessert now, Jamie boy, because it’s gonna turn sour when you land on the floor—both you and your ego.” Alli gave Cassie a wink. “Right, Cass?”
A grin inched across Cassie’s lips. “You’re brilliant, Al, you know that? And since Jamie is our boxing champ—” she pinched his cheek, lowering her voice to mimic his favorite claim to fame—“tutored at the feet of Gentleman Jim Corbett himself, he’s the perfect volunteer.”
“Volunteer for what?” Jamie said, brows in a scrunch, bolting his cake.
“Oh my yes, he certainly is,” Alli said with a wicked chuckle. She perched on the edge of Uncle Logan’s cordovan easy chair with her dessert. “Aren’t you, Jamie?”
“Aren’t I what?” he repeated, delivering a cheeky grin to Bram and Blake as he set his empty plate on an end table. “The perfect volunteer to demonstrate skill in boxing or pool?”
“No, on how to alienate your friends,” Blake said with a dry smile.
Caitlyn reentered the parlour, brows raised in her son’s direction. “Blake Henry McClare—kindly remove those clodhoppers from my antique coffee table, young man. Must I remind you that you do not live in a pool hall?”
Jamie chuckled. “I’d say that’s pretty obvious from the way he plays.” Jamie squinted and sniffed in the air. “Hey, do I smell cookies?”
“You smell trouble, MacKenna,” Alli said with a cock of her brow, “if you think you’re gonna weasel out of my demonstration.” She tugged him up from the couch. “Come on, Mr. Cocky, I need somebody pretty big, strong, and dumb to demonstrate my jiu-jitsu on.”
Bram chuckled. “Well, we’ll give him ‘pretty’ and ‘dumb.’ ”
“Not to mention ‘pretty dumb,’ ” Blake said with a grin.
Logan laughed, a sleepy Maddie plastered against his white shirt, which now sported the same chocolate frosting that circled her mouth. “Sounds like you have a reputation to vindicate, Mac.”
“So, what do I have to do?” Jamie asked, rising when Cassie prodded him from behind.
“Just stand there and look pretty.” Alli snatched a pillow from the loveseat.
“Which you do so well, darling,” Cassie said with a sweet smile.
Alli tugged him to the middle of the room where there was plenty of empty space and tossed the pillow behind him. “This will be easy, Jamie. All you have to do is try and attack me.”
“Allison, this isn’t dangerous, I hope?” her mother asked, a crease in her brow.
“No, Mother,” Alli fluttered her lashes at Jamie. “At least not for me.” Mouth pursed in thought, she positioned him just so. “There, now all I need is for you to try and choke me from behind.”
Grinning, he shot Cassie a wink. “This is sounding better all the time.”
Alli chewed the edge of her lip, eyes fixed on the single pillow behind him. “Hey, Bram, throw me those pillows beside you, will you?” she said, snatching them in the air when he tossed them her way. She laid them behind Jamie, grateful her flared dress wouldn’t impede her kick.
Hands perched on his hips, Jamie eyed the mountain of pillows on the floor. “You don’t really think you’re going to knock me down, do you?” he asked with a dubious smile.
“Well, that’s the plan.” Alli gave him a saucy look while she slipped off her shoes.
“Oh, this I gotta see.” Uncle Logan carefully shifted a sleeping Maddie to his shoulder before swiveling to face the action. “It’s time to assess whether our investment has paid off.”
“Goodness, you’re not going to hurt him, I hope?” Her mother angled her chair forward.
Jamie laughed. “I seriously doubt that, Mrs. McClare. I am the Oly boxing champ four years running, you know, and considerably bigger than your daughter.”
“Well, your mouth is anyway,” Alli quipped, eliciting chuckles from around the room. “I will now demonstrate the defense for a rear chokehold with our ‘boxing champ, Mr. MacKenna.’ Ready, Jamie?”
“Have at it, Miss McClare.” He looped a loose arm to her throat. “And don’t hold back.”
“Harder, please,” she instructed, adrenaline coursing when she felt his arm tighten against her neck. “You’re absolutely certain you want me to give it my all?”
He laughed, his breath warm against her ear. “Yes, Al, I think I can han—”
His voice trailed off when Ali spun into a blur. “Tug . . . jabs . . . stomp . . . turn . . . right . . . left . . . forearm . . .” She finished with a hike of her leg, catapulting Jamie onto the cushions with a swift kick. “Kick,�
�� she finished with a lift of her chin, cheeks flushed as she bowed to her family.
Logan bounded to his feet with a cheer that never even fazed the little girl asleep on his shoulder, the pride in his tone as jubilant as if Alli were his daughter instead of his niece. “That’s my girl!”
“Good heavens, darling, are you hurt?” Cassie bent over Jamie with a squirm of a smile.
“Only my pride,” he said with a groan, lumbering to his feet with a sheepish grin. “Gotta hand it to you, Al, you could knock the wind out of anybody with a kick like that.”
“I’ll say.” Cassie hooked an arm to Jamie’s waist. “Not to mention if somebody gets fresh.” She kissed his cheek before giving Alli a wink. “I may need lessons.”
“I think I need to see that again,” Blake said with a chuckle. “Mac toppled so fast, I missed it.”
Jamie ushered Cassie back to the sofa. “Yeah? Well, I’d like to see it again too, McClare, only with somebody more experienced at picking himself up off the floor. Let’s see her toss you on your sorry rump.”
“If you’re talking ‘sorry rumps,’ I vote Mr. Beware.” Rosie stood at the door with a tray of fresh-baked cookies, her volume raised to cue in Miss Behave, no doubt.
“Awk, pain in the rump, pain in the rump . . .”
Alli grinned and shook her head over the pet phrase Rosie had taught Miss B. in honor of “Mr. Beware,” her snide distortion of Uncle Logan’s last name.
Rosie passed out cookies—Meg’s favorite, to take along on the train—to everyone but Uncle Logan before depositing the cookie plate on the coffee table. She loaded the half-eaten cake onto her tray while Uncle Logan rose to pluck several cookies for himself, searing Rosie with a nasty glare. “Surprised you didn’t make a separate batch for me,” he muttered, “with hemlock.”
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