Husbandry (16 page)

When she didn’t say anything else, the tension built.

I was the first to break it. “So where’s Dad?”

“Your father is getting the luggage out of the car. He’ll be
here in a minute.”

“You should have told me. I’ll go help him with that.” Chuck
walked around my mother, who still stood just inside the doorway. He
disappeared outside, where I could hear him talking to my father.

“I’m not sure what I think of all this, Filomena.” My mom
didn’t mince words. “Going to a matchmaking service, living with three men,
lying about it. That isn’t how we did things in my day. Sometimes I regret
naming you after my mother. You seem intent on following her example.”

Only years of practice allowed me to swallow my sigh. I
loved and admired my mother for her strength of character, but there was a
reason I’d moved across the country from her.

“Well, you have the whole weekend to get to know us and
figure out how you feel.” I forced a note of optimism into my tone that I
wasn’t sure I felt. “As for Genetic Harmony, I couldn’t be happier with the
results. Chuck, Chad, and Charles are the best things to ever happen to me, and
I don’t regret a minute with them. What I do regret, very much, is lying about
them. I’m sorry about that, Mom. I knew it was going to be a shock for you, but
I should have told you from the start.”

Beside me, Chad rubbed my back in silent support. If I’d
left him with any lingering doubts about my commitment to him and my other
husbands, I knew I’d just removed them.

My direct approach appeared to catch my mother off guard.
“Well, it’s done now.” She glanced around. “This looks like a nice house.
Larger than I would have expected.”

“Would you like a tour?” Charles asked.

“Something to drink first?” Chad glanced at my other
husband. “Charles, I forgot the wine in the car. We picked up a few varieties
to stock the wine rack.” He rattled off the labels to my mother. “The whites
are on ice, so they’re already chilled. May I offer you a glass?”

“Thank you…uh…”

“Chad.” I supplied the name when I realized she was
struggling.

Mom gave me a quick nod. “Thank you, Chad. Whichever one you
decide to open will be fine.”

“I’ll go get it,” Charles offered. “You go ahead and start
dinner, Chad. I’ll take care of the drinks.”

“And I can give you the tour.” At the moment, I just wanted
out of the foyer. “You’re going to love the house, Mom. It still needs some
work, but Chuck is doing all the renovations himself, and so far he’s done a
beautiful job.”

“There she is!” My father filled the doorway, arms open for
me. “There’s my girl.”

“Dad!” I hurried over to accept his big bear hug.

My father wasn’t much taller than I was, which meant I could
rest my chin on his shoulder if I cocked my head back. His blond hair had
turned silver some years ago, but his blue eyes were as clear as ever. I got my
coloring from him. My mother was naturally brown-eyed and brunette, though she
currently sported dark blonde hair thanks to her last salon trip. Dad was a
beefy man, all muscle with a bit of an aging paunch, and his arms around me
were surprisingly strong for a man his age.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I told him.

He ended the embrace with a gruff pat on the back I’d come
to expect from him. “I feel like I’m at a hotel. Chuck insisted on carrying all
the bags.”

“No problem,” Chuck said behind him. “We’ve got one of the
guest rooms all ready for you, so I’ll run these up there, and then I’ll get
you that beer, Art.”

I watched as my husband, loaded with what had to be a dozen
small duffels and train cases, walked past us to climb the stairs. Eleven of
those bags no doubt belonged to my mother. Since she and my father didn’t
travel much, she refused to spend money on a larger piece of luggage.

“Whoa there.” My dad gaped at Charles and Chad. “They’re
like clones.”

“Except we’re original. Nice to meet you, Art. I’m Charles.”
My goateed husband offered his hand and waited until my father slowly took it.
“And this is Chad.”

“A pleasure.” Chad was next in line. “If you’ll excuse me, I
need to get dinner started.”

“Sure thing.” Dad continued to stare.

“Close your mouth,” my mom told him. “You knew they were
identical. I showed you their wedding photo and explained it to you in the
car.”

“Yes, dear, but it’s still a hell of a thing.” My father, by
far the more easygoing of the two of them, never seemed upset by my mother’s
picking.

Charles looked much more at ease with my male parent. “I
believe Fila was about to give you the tour. If you want to go with her and do
that first, we’ll have the drinks ready for you by the time you’re through.”

“Uh-huh.” My father didn’t take his gaze off Charles until I
stepped forward.

“Come on.” I waved my parents forward. “Wait until you see
this place, Dad. I was just telling Mom that Chuck has been doing the work to
whip this house into a real showpiece. When we first bought it…”

I continued my spiel as I finally got them moving. We
started downstairs and worked our way up. Whatever else they might have thought
about my living arrangements, they were definitely impressed with the
house—score one for Chuck, though neither of them commented on the lawn. My
father did enough fixer-upper projects at home that I knew he’d enjoy talking
to my handy husband about tools and craftsmanship and the like.

By the time we finished the tour and returned downstairs,
Charles had a glass of red wine ready for my mom, and Chuck tossed Dad a beer.
I decided I could use a drink myself and was grateful when my husband handed me
a full wineglass.

Chad was busy in the kitchen, and the aromas wafting out of
there were already amazing.

“That smells delicious,” my mom announced. “I’ll go see if
he needs a hand.”

“I’m sure he’s got it under—”

Too late. She’d already disappeared toward the kitchen,
where I knew she’d backseat cook. I hoped Chad could handle her.

The rest of us sat down in the living room. For all that he
was more laid-back, my father was protective of me. I could tell he was sizing
Charles up in his own subtle way.

“So, what is it you do, Charles?” Dad asked. “It is Charles,
right?”

“That’s right.” My husband returned an easy grin. “I work at
the home office of the HG&S Corporation, which deals in national and
international manufacturing and trade.”

I listened as my husband launched into a description of his
job with the same passion Chad reserved for art or literature. The truth was I
didn’t fully understand what Charles did. He wasn’t involved in the production
end of the business, but he had something to do with contracts, finance, and
distribution.

My father, a retired businessman himself, seemed to have a
better grasp of my hubby’s profession. He asked some intelligent questions,
which Charles answered with ease before throwing in some anecdotes that had my
dad chuckling in no time. Charles was in full schmooze mode now, and he was
good at it. He radiated charm and control—something I was sure he did when he
was in the zone at work.

“I hope you won’t be offended,” Charles finished, “but I
have an appointment tomorrow morning. I’m playing golf with one of our big
distributors, and I’m hoping to win him over.”

“You play golf?” My dad’s whole face lit up.

“Yes. You?”

“You bet I do.”

“Golf is one of Dad’s favorite sports,” I explained. “He’d
be out there on the green every day if Mom let him.”

Charles stretched his arms out along the back of the couch.
“Why don’t you come with me tomorrow, Art? Maybe you can help me sweet-talk
this guy. His partner will be there, plus a couple of guys from the office, so
I’m sure I can talk them into adding another player.”

I was surprised Charles made the offer. He’d never even
asked me or Chuck or Chad to join him out on the golf course. Then again, none
of us actually played golf.

“I don’t have my clubs with me,” Dad pointed out, but I
could tell he wanted to say yes.

Charles waved away his concern. “We can find you some. That
is, if you’re interested. All I ask is you don’t beat our distributor too
badly. It wouldn’t be good for business.”

My father threw back his head and laughed before reaching
out to shake Charles’s hand. “You got it. I’ll treat it more like a fishing
trip. Got to reel in the big one.”

“Exactly.”

“So whom do you like for the PGA Championship this year?”
Chuck asked, turning the conversation to sports.

I took that as my cue to slip away. Since my mother hadn’t
returned from the kitchen yet, I figured I’d better get in there to rescue
Chad.

Sure enough, she’d taken over, though not as badly as I’d
feared. Somehow my husband had relegated her to salad duty while he stuffed the
manicotti shells. He looked happy, not browbeaten.

“Your mother just gave me a recipe for homemade ricotta,” he
announced. “I’ll have to try it. The ricotta you picked up is fresh, but you
can’t beat homemade.”

“Sounds complicated.” I hadn’t realized you could make
cheese at home without a cow.

“Not as complicated as you might think,” he assured me.
“Ricotta isn’t technically a cheese. It’s a dairy product made from whey. All
you need is some whole milk and something for acid, like vinegar or
buttermilk.”

“Fila was never interested in cooking.” My mother made this
announcement as she finished dicing some tomato and threw it into the salad
bowl. “I had to drag her into the kitchen when she was a girl to teach her how
to make a proper meal.”

I reached for the wine bottle to top off my glass. “That’s
because I wanted to go out and play with my friends instead. You insisted I get
all my homework done first, which usually took me until just before
dinnertime.”

“Well, those lessons must have paid off, Minnie. Your
daughter is a terrific cook now.” Chad paused long enough to kiss my cheek.
“What about your other children?”

I answered for her. “Oh, my brothers and sister were
expected to learn too. Mom believes in equal opportunity.”

“All my children were taught to be self-sufficient,” my
mother announced with pride. “No adult should wander around like a helpless pet
waiting to be fed. They know how to make a meal for themselves.”

I almost gushed red wine through my nose. Helpless pet? Not
a flattering description, especially since, by her definition, that label could
apply to Charles, Chuck, and my father. Charles could only reheat or order in,
and Chuck was the same except he could grill and barbecue. As for my dad, he
was so lost in the kitchen he could barely find the milk in the refrigerator.
It was a good thing the three men were out of earshot in the other room.

Chad spooned chunky tomato sauce and cheese over the stuffed
manicotti he now had lined up in a baking pan. “I was hoping Fila’s siblings
might come with you. I’d really like to meet them too.”

Knowing my mother, I suspected she’d given my sister, Nikki,
an earful after I’d sent my unedited wedding photo. Nikki had already
complained to me that since my marriage, our mother had turned the pressure up
on her to follow suit. Despite my mom’s reservations about my having three
husbands, she’d probably thrown it in Nikki’s face: if I could land three men,
she should be able to land one. Minnie Leonard was a master at manipulating her
children—for their own good, of course.

“Nikki started a new job, and Frank is off gallivanting
around the world as usual.” My mom turned to address me. “Sometimes I think
your brother will never settle down. He’s still renting that little
efficiency.”

“An efficiency apartment makes sense for him.” Defending him
was automatic, though I knew she wouldn’t listen. “And he’s not ‘gallivanting.’
Frank is working. He’s a journalist.”

My mother pursed her lips and returned a skeptical hum. “As
for Josef, he’s doing very well at the bank. He’s looking at a possible
promotion to regional manager, so he couldn’t afford to take the time off.”

“Joe is up for a promotion?” I smiled, genuinely happy for
my older brother. “I hope he gets it. He deserves it, and if I know him, he’ll
sock away any extra earnings in a college fund for the kids. I think he has
dreams of Ivy League for my nieces.”

Mom looked pleased.

“Okay.” Chad slid the dish of manicotti into the oven and
set the timer. “While that bakes, I just need to get the garlic bread done. It
looks like you’ve got the salad almost ready, so we’re looking good. More wine,
Minnie?”

“Yes, please.” My mother held out her glass. Although she
kept her lips in a straight line, I thought I caught a glimmer of appreciation
when she looked at Chad.

It would take more than a good meal and good hosting to win
her approval, but my charming husband was making headway.

When everything was done, I helped get all the dishes and
condiments on the table and returned to the living room to call the men in to
dinner. Charles, Chuck, and my dad were laughing about something, and they
carried their good mood all the way to the table. The usual murmur of voices
and clatter of serving dishes went around the room until everyone had dished
out.

My father was the first to take a bite. His face lit up.
“You made this, Chad? From scratch?”

“Yes, sir. Well, except for the pasta shells.”

“You a chef?”

Chad beamed at the implied compliment. “No, I work at a
recording studio. Fila takes care of most of our dinners, but I enjoy jumping
in and cooking sometimes.”

“Delicious.” When it came to food, that was the highest form
of praise from my dad. He usually didn’t say anything at all—something my
mother made sure to point out to him.

The rest of us echoed his sentiment.

Later, I received the praise for the lemon cake we had for dessert.
It was the perfect ending to the meal, and I finally started to relax, though
that might have been due to the wine. Charles volunteered himself and Chuck for
cleanup duty, and Chad and I spent another forty minutes visiting with my
parents before we showed them up to the guest room.