Steph straightened away from the railing. “It’s cold. Let’s go in.”
Chapter 6
Jack
The dining room alone was bigger than any apartment or house he’d ever lived in. Jack had visited Liam before, but he had never seen the room in all its regality. The table ran long enough to seat twenty without crowding, and tonight every chair was filled. It looked effortless, like something out of a magazine.
Liam’s family didn’t do things halfway. That was true in business and apparently true in centerpieces.
“More turkey?” Liam’s mother asked, nodding toward a woman standing by the sideboard. She stepped forward and served a portion onto Jack’s plate.
“Thank you,” Jack said.
The turkey was delicious. Everything was. It was the kind of meal that took days to prepare and a full staff to execute and serve. The woman who remained to offer seconds was one of three who helped with the original serving. Everyone around the table seemed completely comfortable being waited on and even knew how to nod just right to get exactly what they wanted.
They should. Other than Jack, they were all related in one way or another. Liam’s dad sat at one end, Liam’s mom next to him. At the other end was Liam’s uncle, his mom’s brother, with his wife at his side and two older teen daughters next to her. The rest of the group consisted of Liam’s sister and her husband, and various cousins and whatnot that Jack didn’t even bother to keep straight.
What stood out to him was how comfortable everyone was with the fancy surroundings and being served as if they were in a restaurant. Jack didn’t hate it, but he knew he’d never be used to it the way they were, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be.
After dinner, he and Liam ended up in the study with two glasses of something that had been aged longer than either of them had been alive. Someone had started a fire in the fireplace, and Jack instinctively knew it wasn’t Liam’s dad.
“I shouldn’t stay too late.” Jack sipped from his glass and tried not to make a face. He’d never really developed a taste for the hard stuff. A beer here and there, especially after an intense training session, often hit the spot, but this stuff burned and smelled like lighter fluid. He didn’t care how old it was or how much it cost.
“You can stay over, you know. Everyone else is.”
Jack shook his head. “I’ve got plans for early in the morning.”
“Going on a run?”
“That and practicing with the sled. I’ve been watching videos. I need to figure out how to work with it instead of against it.”
“Probably a good idea.”
Jack took another sip as he thought of his next words. Finally, he said, “One of the videos I found was an interview with Steph Pierce. They had footage of her with her sled. She was very graceful.”
Liam chuckled. “I have no doubt she was. You know, it’s not too late to decide to ski or bike instead of run. Bikers don’t pull a sled, and they finish earlier.”
“I’m not comfortable on one of those fat-tired bikes.” Jack rubbed his shoulder. “And skiing still aggravates my arm.”
Liam knew Jack would have preferred tackling The Frozen Divide on skis rather than running it, but running was what his body could handle, and it made the most sense professionally. After all, what kind of running club organizer skipped the chance to run when given it?
“We’ll need to finish getting your gear together. Did you update your list?”
“Updated and emailed to your secretary,” Jack agreed.
It was still odd to him that a business that had brought in absolutely zero income to date had a full staff backing it. Liam had a secretary, a marketing director, and a couple of gophers at their beck and call.
They would open up the registration for the endurance run on the first of January, then they’d see if the marketing director was earning his keep.
And they’d see if the name Jack Swisher carried any weight in the world of running. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer. If this flopped, he’d be leaving Elkridge with his tail between his legs and looking for a new opportunity.
“She’s going to be a problem.”
Liam settled back in his chair. “Well, that came out of nowhere.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know you are.” Liam swirled his glass. “Which Steph Pierce problem are we discussing tonight? The running club? The race? The fact that Sheriff Hepner thinks she hung the moon and thinks considerably less of my family name?”
