The Game of Denial (3 page)

"Megan Carmichael," she said as she lightly touched his hand before going back to changing the selection on her iPod.

"How about I give you a personal tour after you get settled?" he asked. He leaned closer, a gesture not unnoticed by Joan who had already seen him ogle Meg. "A very personal tour."

"I'll let you know," Meg said.

Tully frowned and returned to the back of the Suburban.

Joan walked casually toward Meg and placed an arm around her shoulders. "Everything all right?" she asked.

"No sweat, Mom," Meg said, placing her earbuds in her ears.

Joan looked toward the barn and watched a woman and two men walk out of the dark interior. The woman, whom she assumed was Brad's mother, leaned against the fence enclosing one side of the barn and rested her hands on her knees. She turned her head and squinted up as one of the men spoke. She nodded as one of the men patted her on the back before walking to a truck and climbing in. After standing and waving at the departing vehicle, she said something to the second man before slowly making her way up the small rise toward the main house.

"Please be nice when Brad's mom gets here," Fran said when she joined Joan and Meg.

"I'm almost always nice, Fran. Don't confuse me with your grandmother," Joan said. She tilted her head toward Tully. "I can't say as much about the young man invading your sister's personal space, however."

"That's Brad's brother, Tully," Fran said, rolling her eyes. "He thinks he's irresistible to women. You want me to tell him to leave Meg alone?"

"She knows I'll help her if she needs it," Joan said.

EVEY KEPT HER head down as she trudged up the rise. She brought her eyes up and glanced at her houseguests. Frannie had described them, but Evey hadn't seen any family pictures. She looked down at her clothes and frowned. Well, they started out clean and pressed. She sighed. Dirty smudges and stains on the knees from kneeling in the stall hay had made her clothes a mini disaster. Oh well, that was life on the farm.

As she topped the rise, Brad trotted down to meet her. "How's Sheba?" he asked as he fell in beside her.

"False alarm," she said softly. "I should never have tried to breed her. We've tried so many times and it never took."

"She's not that old, Mom. The first one's always the hardest."

"That's true. After you, Beth and Tully were a snap," she kidded, side-stepping a poke in the ribs from her oldest child.

She was still chuckling when she stopped next to Frannie. She wiped her hands quickly on her already dirty slacks and offered a hand to the tall, attractive woman next to Fran. "Evelyn Chase," she said. Her hazel eyes squinted against the bright sunlight. "Sorry I wasn't here to greet you when you arrived, but life doesn't always come to a convenient halt when we want it to. I apologize for my appearance."

The woman looked at Evelyn as she firmly grasped her hand.

A mild pulse of energy traveled up Evey's arm. Amazing eyes, she thought as their eyes met.

"No, it never seems to. Joan Carmichael. It's a pleasure to meet you at last. I can see where Brad gets his good looks." Evey's face felt suddenly warm and she hoped she wasn't blushing. She flexed her hand when Joan released it. "Let me introduce my daughters," Joan said. "My son and his family should be here soon." Joan took Charmaine lightly by the elbow. The pulse was still there. "This is our oldest daughter, Charmaine." Charmaine leaned forward and shook Evey's hand.

Evey turned her attention back to Joan who was continuing to introduce the members of her party. Fran's mother was soft spoken and attractive in an understated way. Evey couldn't identify the subtle scent Joan wore, but found it quite alluring. "And this is our youngest, Megan. She's obviously an individualist."

"Individuality can be a good thing." Evey smiled as she took Meg's hand. She looked at Joan and said, "I'd be willing to bet you were pretty individualistic yourself when you were younger."

The corners of Meg's mouth twitched up slightly and she looked at her mother. "I'da liked to have seen that."

Joan's retort was interrupted by the arrival of a gray sedan, which stopped next to Evey's Suburban. Without waiting for an introduction, Evey walked to the car's back passenger door and opened it, releasing two squealing children. The passenger in the front seat stepped from the vehicle, sun glinting off her auburn hair. Evey detected a slight accent when the woman said the children's names.

"Welcome to Meadowbrook Farm," Evey said as she extended her hand to the new arrivals. "I'm Evey Chase, the proud mother of the groom."

Giselle Carmichael accepted Evey's hand, but pulled her into a hug as well. "I am Giselle Carmichael." She glanced toward the children and smiled. "And those little monkeys are my children, Mitchell and Morgana."

"They're mine, too," a man in his early thirties announced as he joined Giselle. He held his hand out to Evey. "Tucker Carmichael."

Evey liked Tucker and his family immediately. When Morgana came near Evey, she rubbed her eyes and yawned. Evey squatted down and smiled. "Tired?" When the girl nodded, Evey picked her up and began walking toward the house, holding the child on her hip. Speaking over her shoulder, she said, "I hope you won't mind, but I'm giving you and your family the little house out back. It will give you some privacy and might make it easier for these little guys to get some rest." She turned and walked backward while she spoke to the others, hoisting an already sleeping Morgana higher in her arms. "Tully! Escort the others into the main house. Beth, you know where everyone's supposed to be."

Evey had contracted to have a small two bedroom cabin constructed behind the main house not long after Brad graduated from high school. Over the years it had served as a place for him to stay when he came home from college and acted as a guesthouse whenever she needed it. It was perfect for Tucker and his family.

While her guests unpacked and got settled in their temporary new home, Evey showered and changed into her normal attire. She felt much more comfortable as she strode into the kitchen and pushed the sleeves of her long-sleeved t-shirt up. She rubbed a hand up and down her right arm. She wondered if Fran's mother had felt that tingle in her arm when they shook hands. Evey hadn't felt the same thing when she shook hands with the other members of Fran's family, but shrugged it off.

Fran had helped her plan the menu for the first night. It wouldn't take long to finish preparing the simple meal. The meat was marinating in the refrigerator, the beans were soaking, and the homemade bread dough would be ready for the oven in about an hour. Evey checked the sun tea, absorbing the last rays of sunlight on the front porch, and carried the large container into the house. So far Fran's family had seemed friendly and Evey hoped they would like the meals she prepared.

Evey was surprised to find Joan standing in the kitchen when she carried in the tea. Joan turned and smiled briefly. She approached Evey and said, "Let me take that for you. Sun tea?" she asked.

Evey nodded. "You can set it on the counter," she said. "Were you looking for something?"

"May I make a pot of coffee?" Joan asked.

Evey opened a cabinet below the sink. "I could use a cup myself. Have a seat. You're a guest."

"That doesn't mean you have to wait on me or the members of my family. I'm sure you have other more important things to do."

Evey looked over her shoulder at Joan. "We've tried to get ahead with everything. Fran has been extremely helpful."

"Really?" Joan said.

"She's become quite proficient at canning over the summer and seems to enjoy it," Evey said as she turned on the coffeemaker and joined Joan at the table.

"Must be a genetic throwback," Joan said with a slight smile. "I grew up on a farm in Nebraska and helped my mother can."

"Fran didn't tell me that," Evey said.

"We've never discussed my youth much. My family moved away from the farm when I was quite young, barely a teenager."

Evey fidgeted while she waited for the coffeemaker to burble out the last of the coffee. She breathed a sigh of relief when, chattering away in French, Fran and Giselle entered the kitchen. Both young women greeted Joan warmly.

"Where are the children?" Joan asked.

"Admiring the horses," Fran answered.

"It is a chance for them to spend some time with their father," Giselle added. She turned toward Evey. "Fran tells me you are preparing homemade bread."

"It's almost finished rising," Evey said as she pointed to the bowl on the counter.

"My grandfather owned a small bakery in Avignon. As a child I loved awakening to the scent of fresh bread coming from his ovens. I hope you will allow me to assist you," Giselle said.

Evey laughed. "I never turn down an offer of help in the kitchen. Are your rooms all right?"

"Ours are delightful," Giselle said.

"They are all lovely," Joan agreed. "The fresh flowers give them a welcoming touch."

"Those were Fran's idea," Evey said.

Fran glanced at Joan. "Mama placed fresh flowers in our rooms every other day. I thought they would let a piece of her be with us in a small way."

"Yes, she did," Joan said.

Evey saw the brief look of sorrow in Joan's eyes and turned away from the personal moment.

"What can I do to help?" Joan asked as she carried her cup to the sink.

"You know what they say about too many cooks in the kitchen," Evey said. "I've got plenty of help in here. Why don't you join your son and grandchildren? Or wander around and relax? Believe me, I've seen Fran's agenda and this may be the last relaxing moment you get until after the ceremony," Evey said.

"It's not that bad," Fran said, pretending to sulk.

As Joan started to leave the room, Evey said, "If you go to the barn, would you tell Ralph, my farm manager, that dinner will be ready in about...," she paused to look at the kitchen clock, "two hours?"

A FEW MINUTES later Joan walked onto the front porch and gazed at the lush greenery surrounding the house. The flowerbeds around the house looked as if they had been recently worked and the scent of fresh soil wafted up to greet her. She could hear the sound of horses nickering in the distance as she strolled down the front steps toward the barn and stable area. When she got closer, she heard the sound of children's laughter and followed it until she reached a large enclosure on the far side of the stables. The young man Fran had told her was Brad's brother, Tully, was on a beautiful chestnut horse, sitting calmly in the saddle as the animal went through a series of movements within the enclosure. Tucker stood near the fence, Morgana seated on his shoulders with her arms folded in front of her and resting on her father's head. Mitchell sat on the top rail, asking a hundred questions of the older man seated next to him.

Joan had seen the man briefly when they arrived, but hadn't been introduced. She walked up next to Tucker, letting her hand rub over his back.

"Hi, Mom," Tucker said. "They run you out of the house too?" He looked up at the man sitting next to Mitchell. "I don't think you've met Mrs. Chase's farm manager. This is Ralph Tannenbaum. Ralph, my mother, Joan Carmichael."

Ralph nodded and extended a callused hand. "Miz Carmichael."

Joan returned his smile. "I'm supposed to let you know that dinner will be ready in a couple of hours, Mr. Tannenbaum. From the smell of it so far, it should be delicious."

Ralph readjusted his cap. "Always is. Miz Evey's a good cook." Then he leaned closer to Mitchell, pointed at the horse, and said something Joan couldn't hear. Mitchell nodded furiously.

Tucker reached out and wrapped his arm around Joan's shoulders and gave her a gentle hug. "You doing all right?" he asked.

"Of course, dear. It's beautiful here."

"So where are all the womenfolk?" Tucker asked in a twangy voice.

Joan chuckled. "Well, Giselle is happily making bread," she said holding up one finger. "Frannie is learning to cook beans and mashed potatoes, I think. As for the other two, Charmaine is probably taking her afternoon beauty nap or whispering sweet nothings on her cell to Giancarlo, and Meg is possibly dead after blowing her brains out with heavy metal music."

Tucker laughed. "So everything is pretty much status quo?"

"What's states go?" Morgana asked.

"It means nothing has changed, sweet cheeks," Joan answered, patting the girl's chubby thigh. "I haven't seen Brad or his sister."

"They're in the barn, uh, cleanin' up," Ralph said.

"What's that Tully's doing?" Joan asked.

"All the horses have a training session every day. This one usually performs in dressage competitions, so Tully's going through a stage one exercise with him, just so he don't forget what he's supposed to be doing. On account of the wedding Miz Evey cancelled most of her training sessions and their riders won't be running in and out until after the ceremony." Ralph paused before saying, "Tully's not too happy about having to put other people's horses through their paces when he could be working with his own, but that's just the breaks in the training business."

"Mrs. Chase is a trainer?" Joan asked.

Ralph nodded. "A riding teacher and performance trainer. The farm used to breed and sell horses until Miz Evey's husband took over the business. He was a professional rider hisself like Miz Evey. Les wasn't interested in breeding so much. Miz Evey still does some though."

Joan continued to watch what was going on inside the enclosure for a while, but soon felt the need to stretch her legs. She patted Tucker on the back. "I'm going for a walk," she said. "I didn't have a chance to run before we left New York."

"If you're not back in an hour or so at least we have horses so we can send out a posse to look for you," Tucker said.

Chapter Four

BY THE TIME dinner was ready, everyone was awake and hungry. Joan couldn't help but look around the table and take in the smiling faces of her children and grandchildren all together, perhaps for the last time in a long while. In a few days her family would be joined with an almost equally large family and she prayed they would always be as close as they now seemed to be. Even Meg had found someone who also seemed to enjoy the music she had only recently begun to embrace. Beth Chase was only two or three years older than Meg and offered up the names of legendary heavy metal groups from a few years earlier. Joan noticed the sullen look on Tully's face and gathered he was unaccustomed to being ignored by young women. He devoured his meal quickly and excused himself, presumably to finish some work at the stables.