As the first courses arrived—creamy seafood bisque followed by platters of blackened redfish with crawfish cream sauce—the table erupted into a symphony of appreciative murmurs. His mother, usually the most difficult critic in any room, leaned back after her third bite of the redfish and let out a soft sigh of contentment. “I have to admit,” Mariah looked around the table at her sons and their partners, “I want y’all to know how very proud of you I am. The town looks pretty enough on the TV show, but in person? This is absolutely amazing. All of you have done such a terrific job. I feel like I’ve been transported in time with all the conveniences of the modern world.” She dabbed at the corners of her mouth. “With the best food on the planet.”
Ryan reached under the table, his fingers finding Nicole’s and giving them a slow, grateful squeeze. She returned the pressure, her thumb brushing over his knuckles in a silent promise. For a few perfect minutes, it felt as though the ghosts of the past had finally been laid to rest.
Laughing at a story Paxton was telling about a misbehaving goat, Ryan didn’t look up when the front door chimed and a new group entered the restaurant. Folks had been coming and going all evening. Eloise’s establishment had people driving in from as close as Tucker’s Bluff to as far away as Midland.
Stabbing at another piece of fish, his mom’s gaze lifted toward the chiming door, her expression suddenly went flat. All warmth evaporated as if a freezer door had been flung open. Her fork hit the china with a sharp, metallic ring.
Ryan followed his mother’s gaze. Standing near the hostess station, Aunt Eileen and Uncle Sean stood with Uncle Brian and Aunt Anne, chatting with the hostess. They were dressed for a night out, their expressions relaxed and happy.
“Trouble at three o’clock,” Quinn muttered, his voice barely a breath.
Ryan felt the shift in the room like a drop in barometric pressure before a storm. His mother’s spine went rigid, her hands clenching the white linen of her napkin until her knuckles turned white. Across the room, Aunt Eileen stilled, her hand moving instinctively to Uncle Sean’s arm.
The two branches of the family stared at each other across the expanse of the dining room—a gap that suddenly felt far wider than the few yards of hardwood flooring between them. The good mood, the laughter, and the taste of the perfect meal were gone, replaced by a tension so thick it was almost hard to breathe.
“I think,” his father’s voice was low and weary as he leaned into his son’s side, “the peace just officially ended.”
“Did I mention that I noticed some inferior screws in the stall gates?”
All heads turned toward Nicole. “It won’t take much for Duke or Daisy to kick their way out of the stalls.” Tension still thick at the table, Nicole continued talking, praying for a better distraction. “As a matter of fact, earlier, Duke seemed to be acting weird.”
“Weird how?” Ryan asked.
“Well, he seemed restless, pawing at the ground. Sort of swaying a bit. He settled when I stroked him, but if he keeps itup, it wouldn’t take much for him to knock the gate right off its hinges.”
“Hmm,” one of the brothers huffed.
“I thought, after supper, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to stop by before we head home and take a look—at both Duke and the gate. I circled them in red; it should be easy to spot the problem.”
Ryan’s face went grim. “Jet or George?”
“George.”
“We’re going to have to do something about that man.” Quinn tossed his napkin on the table. “I know good help is hard to find, but this guy keeps cutting corners to save time that we haven’t asked him to save.”
“He must care more about breaking early at the end of day than about his workmanship.”
She wasn’t going to mention how condescending he was to her, but by the way Ryan’s gaze met and held hers, she was pretty sure he already had guessed that she was once again—not in so many words—told to stay in her lane.
His mom played with the food on her plate, but if Nicole had to place bets, she’d say the woman had lost her appetite. From what she’d heard from Ryan, this whole family feud was insane. Though she supposed if only one family was mad at the other and the other wasn’t mad at anyone, feud was probably the wrong word.
“Is anyone going to order dessert?” Valerie spoke up, obviously as interested in distracting her mother-in-law from whatever it was that had her so unhappy with the rest of the Farradays.
“Hello, Mariah. Patrick.” Aunt Eileen’s voice held more calm than anyone at the table felt. “It’s nice to see you again.”
All Ryan’s mom did was stare at her cousin-in-law and give a nod so slight, if you weren’t paying close attention, you’d have missed it.
Uncles Sean and Brian walked around the table, each one taking turns giving Patrick a back slapping hug.
Their Uncle Patrick held on to his brother Brian longer than was probably customary. Even though Nicole barely knew Ryan’s uncle and had only now met Brian and Patrick, it was pretty obvious to her, and probably everyone at the table, that the two brothers truly cared for each other. Probably missed each other too.
Neil was the first traitor. “Nora and I need to get back to the house. We left the dog inside.” The middle brother pulled out his wife’s chair and leaning over to kiss his mother on the cheek and hug his dad, looped his arm around his wife. “We’ll catch up some more tomorrow.”
Owen and Connie were next. “We need to get back. We promised the babysitter we wouldn’t be late.”
Right about now, Nicole wished she had a dog or child she could use as an excuse to leave early.
“Why don’t the four of you take our seats?” Owen waved toward the now empty chairs.
