A quick peek inside confirms it’s a lost cause. My hunk of raw beef sulks in a bath of cold red wine and carrots. There’s no way that’s getting cooked in under an hour.
Squash gives a plaintive meow from her luxury cat tower.
“I know,” I mutter. “You’d probably eat it like this, but I can’t serve it to guests.”
She blurts her agreement and starts cleaning her ears with her paw.
“Now what?” I ask.
Squash curls herself into a soft tabby donut and drifts off to sleep.
“Thanks for the help.” I contemplate calling in a takeout order from Cal’s pub or even Mason’s brewery, but both guys are out in my dining room. The last thing they want is a meal from the place they work every day.
“Dammit,” I mutter, poking the hunk of raw beef. “I wanted this to be special.”
“What’s that?”
I whirl and see Noah, who’s still here in Oregon for some reason. This is the longest anyone’s seen my black sheep cousin in years.
“Nothing,” I say quickly. “Just working on dinner.”
“Smells good,” he says kindly, though there’s no trace of scent in the air. “Just looking for more of that sparkling cider. Guess who just made a big pregnancy announcement?”
“It’s so great for Callie and Parker, isn’t it?”
“No, I meant Jake and Cass.” Noah unearths two bottles of non-boozy cider from my fridge. “After you got up, Parker kept pestering everyone to produce cousins. Jake finally snapped and said—and I quote—‘Fuck off, you little prick. We’re having a baby in May.’”
I laugh. “That is the most Jake pregnancy announcement I’ve ever heard.”
“Right?” Noah chuckles as he uncorks the cider. “Cassidy tried to be mad, but you can tell she’s thrilled.”
“Good for them.” Now I really feel weird about dropping my bomb over dinner tonight. “Does it make you want to stick around and put down roots? Settle down, start a family, that sort of thing?”
Noah regards me like I’ve asked if he’d like to snort hot sauce off my granite counter. “I’m good, thanks.”
“Well, maybe you’ll change your mind someday.”
“Unlikely.” He studies me oddly. “You okay?”
“I’m great, thanks.”
He looks like he’s not sure he buys that. “Heard you’re looking to set up a child-based charity in Eastern Europe.”
“Romania.” I’m glad to be back on safe conversational ground. “It started as one of Spencer Holdings’ charitable endeavors, but it’s grown into a much bigger project. We have two-dozen donors and visions of founding a child-focused foster care center.”
“That’s great,” Noah muses. “An alternative to the sort of state-run orphanages that used to be common there?”
I almost forgot he’s worked in Eastern Europe. “That’s the idea. As countries have moved away from large-scale institutionalization, there’s a growing need for group homes, family foster care, that sort of thing. That’s where our center would fit in.”
“Sounds like a lot of work.”
“Yes, but rewarding. The project is still in its infancy, and we’re looking for in-country contacts. Project managers, people with experience.”
Noah looks thoughtful. “I’ve got ties to the area. I’ll rattle some cages, see if I can find you any useful contacts.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
He wanders back out to the dining room, and I can’t help wondering if it’s strange for him to be back in the family fold. Noah’s always been a bit of a loner. He got into some trouble in high school and racked up a criminal record. I don’t know the details, except that it’s one thing we never discuss as a family.
