“Wow,” Brooke said, reaching for one. “So you’re a baker and a chef.” She popped the appetizer in her mouth, relishing the mix of toasted pastry, filled with a perfect combination of tang, salt, and sweet. She wished she could inhale all of them. She counted how many were left on the plate—six across and eight down, minus the one she’d eaten—and realized that being the guest who wolfed down forty-eight puff pastry bites was not the impression she wanted to leave with Natalie’s family. She looked at her sister. “These are really tasty. The perfect bite.”
Natalie smiled, clearly pleased. “Thank you. I like to dabble in the savory world. But my business is all about the sugar.”
Brooke stood up from her seat. “Can I help with anything? It smells so good.” Her stomach growled again, as though on cue.
“If you want to carry the potatoes to the table, that would be great,” Natalie said, nodding in the direction of the stove top, where a large, cast-iron pot with a shiny lid rested. “The salad’s already out there. I just need to slice the roast and we can eat.”
“You don’t want to wait for your husband?”
“No,” Natalie said, looking away from Brooke for a moment. “I don’t want the roast to get dry.”
“Okay.” Brooke walked to the other side of the kitchen and grabbed the potatoes, then made her way through a large, arched doorway to the dining room. Brooke set the pot down on a black iron trivet, and just as she was about to turn around, Hailey and Henry reappeared, each waving a white piece of paper in their small hands.
“Look at mine first!” Hailey said. “I’m the oldest!”
“No!” Henry protested. He shoved his sister, causing her to stumble, and then held his paper toward Brooke.
“Don’t push!” Hailey said, jockeying to stand in front of her brother.
“Hey, you two,” Natalie called out from the kitchen. “No fighting.”
“Whoa,” Brooke said. “How about I look at them at the same time? That seems fair, right?”
“Okay,” Hailey relented, and handed her the paper she carried.
Brooke held the two pictures next to each other and looked them over. Hailey had drawn two stick figures under a rainbow, one with long black curly hair and one with brown, and Henry had scribbled with black crayon in the shape of what she assumed was supposed to be a fireman next to a pink building that had red flames shooting from the windows. She was about to compliment them both when there was the sound of a key in the front door. Hailey called out the word “Daddy!” and both she and Henry raced into the living room. Brooke glanced back into the kitchen, where Natalie stood slicing the roast. Her sister didn’t look up at the sound of her husband’s arrival.
“Hey, bug,” Kyle said from the living room, and a moment later he came through the doorway, his daughter hitched on his left side with Henry trailing behind. Kyle had dark brown hair and wore a black suit with a white-and-blue pin-striped shirt and matching solid blue tie. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. He set Hailey down and took a couple of steps toward her, holding out his right hand. “I’m Kyle. And you must be Brooke.”
“That’s me,” she said, giving Natalie’s husband what she hoped was a warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Look at her eyes, Daddy!” Hailey said. “They’re just like mine!”
Brooke’s cheeks warmed as Kyle looked at her again. She held her body as steady as she could, maintaining a small, pleasant smile. If she’d had any doubt at all that Natalie was her baby sister, it had evaporated the moment she saw Hailey’s violet-blue eyes. She hoped the similarity would have the same effect on Natalie’s husband.
“You’re right, they are,” Kyle said. “Excuse me, for just a minute.” He walked into the kitchen, where Brooke saw him take off his jacket, then slide up behind Natalie, who didn’t turn to look at him. She’s pissed that he’s late, Brooke surmised. She looked away, then felt Hailey grab her hand.
“Come sit by me, Aunt Brooke,” Hailey said, leading her toward the opposite side of the table. She climbed into a chair and patted the one next to her. Brooke smiled at Hailey, her heart warmed by being called an aunt, then sat down and put her glass to the top right of her plate. A moment later, Natalie and Kyle joined them, with Kyle carrying a large platter, which he set in the middle of the table.
“Can you get the kids something to drink, please?” Natalie asked her husband. Her voice was a little stiff, but Brooke didn’t know her well enough yet to interpret to what degree her sister was irritated with her husband.
“Sure,” he said, jogging back into the kitchen. Natalie took a seat at the head of the table with her back facing a pair of French doors. As soon as Kyle returned with two cups filled with milk, he lowered himself into the chair next to his son, setting their drinks next to their plates. He quickly poured some wine into his own glass. “All right, then,” he said. “Let’s eat.”
“I’d like to make a toast first,” Natalie said, looking at Brooke. “To the happy surprises in life. And to family.”
Brooke raised her glass, but Kyle took an extra second or two to lift his. Does he not want me here? Brooke wondered.