Trouble in Tennessee

“Right. Sure.” Merry? Not the word Treble would have used to describe an evening with her stepfather, but rumor had it Keith actually enjoyed the man’s company.

It probably helped that when Keith spent time with Harrison, the conversation wasn’t laced with disapproval and derision over his dating life and career choice.

“I GOTTA SAY, Keith, I’m disappointed that you won’t find enough time in your schedule to at least go on a date.” Charity put her hands on her hips, but given her reclining position, it wasn’t as effective a stance as it could have been.

When he’d returned this evening, Keith had turned the sofa that served as a divider between the two rooms so that it faced the kitchen. It was a more comfortable choice than the four chairs at the small oval table—besides, the spindly-legged seats didn’t look sturdy enough for a woman in her final weeks of pregnancy. Tonight they’d eat in the dining room. For now, Treble was tearing and washing lettuce leaves while Keith sliced vegetables for the salad.

She was glad she wasn’t the one wielding the knife or her occasional glances at Keith, who was standing a foot away by the kitchen counter, could have been disastrous. He’d obviously showered before changing into a starched white button-down shirt and dark jeans, because the ends of his hair had still been damp when he’d arrived, filling the small room with the scent of soap and sandalwood cologne. And I thought the beef stew smelled delicious.

Keith could definitely make a girl’s mouth water. In fact, according to Charity, that’s exactly what he did. Girls throughout town were lusting after him, although Charity had put it more discreetly as the two sisters chatted over tea this afternoon.

“If I thought he was happy as a single bachelor, I wouldn’t nag him about finding someone,” Charity had said. “But, honestly, I’m not convinced he’s happy. We’re friends, but there’s a lot he still doesn’t tell me.”

“Not for a lack of your asking, I’m sure,” Treble had teased.

“I think he’s lonely.”

Since Keith had ignored Charity’s previous statement, his only response being a rhythmic chop chop chop, she pressed on. “I know your occupation is important to you, to the town, but do you really want your career to be the be-all and end-all of your existence?”

Treble stole another covert glance at the dark-haired doctor. He could have his pick of women in Joyous. Was he simply a loner by choice? The way he’d chatted with Charity earlier made that seem unlikely. Though he couldn’t discuss any medical cases, he still had lots of funny anecdotes about patients and their families, especially kids. His genuine smile when he spoke about them, compounded with his willingly coming here tonight to have dinner with a pregnant woman and her family, made him seem like a people person.

“Enough,” Keith warned his hostess, brandishing a carrot menacingly in her direction. “You have to at least feed me before interrogating me.”

“I thought I might be able to wear you down easier on an empty stomach,” Charity said. “You know, weaker state and all that. But now that you mention food…if Dad and Bill aren’t ready to eat soon, we’re digging in without them. I’m famished.”

Treble grinned at her sister’s newfound appetite, thinking about the snacks Charity had downed earlier. Healthy snacks granted, but plentiful.

Charity cocked her head, listening. “I don’t hear the water running anymore, so maybe Bill’s done with his shower. That just leaves Dad.” Bill had come through the kitchen door shortly after Keith arrived. He’d spared a nod for the doctor before smiling in Treble’s direction.

“I’d hug you, but I smell like cow.” Then he’d sent his wife a glance of such sheer adoration that it had almost been too intimate to watch. “Hey, gorgeous. How are you and that daughter of ours?”

Beaming back at him, Charity had assured him she and the baby were doing great. “But clean up fast,” she’d warned. “This kid is getting hungry again.”

By the time Treble was scooping all the salad ingredients into a large pottery bowl and Keith had his head stuck in the refrigerator to find Charity’s homemade dressing, Bill padded into the living room clean and nicely dressed, but barefoot beneath his khaki slacks. A man with calloused hands but a soft smile, he was solid, short and just the right height for Charity. He kissed his wife, giving her the greeting he’d postponed when he was gritty and malodorous. He rested his forehead against hers, his sandy hair a few shades darker than her blond. They were a well-matched couple.

Treble hoped that the listeners who periodically called her show, wistful for this kind of love, found what they were looking for, but she suspected it was more elusive than movie producers and greeting card companies would have the public believe.

As Bill entered the kitchen to see what he could do to help, Treble noticed his soapy, fresh scent was similar to the way Keith had smelled when he walked in the door. Recalling her visceral overreaction to the doctor, she mentally smacked herself in the forehead. So the man bathed—it took more than basic hygiene to impress her.

“Treble?” Keith’s voice directly behind her made her jump. “What are you doing?”

Trying not to imagine you in the shower. “Um, tossing salad?”

He peered over her shoulder at the nearly mangled lettuce. “Interesting technique you have there.”

Her face warmed. “Would you believe I learned it on one of those Food Network cooking shows?”

He laughed, the sound as rich as dark chocolate and just as addictive. “No, but you get points for creativity.”

“Yeah, I always did have an imagination.” She turned slightly as she said it, and their gazes collided. It wouldn’t have mattered except that he was just so close. Not crowding her or being overly familiar, just there, his body near enough for her to melt with its heat, his indigo eyes—

“I take it Harrison hasn’t called?” Bill’s voice broke the spell, and Treble seized the opportunity to scoot away from Keith while she had the good sense to do so. Her brother-in-law was staring down at the wristwatch Treble knew had been an engraved anniversary present from Charity. “He said he’d be here by six thirty.”

“It’s just that now,” Charity said. “Let’s set the table, and the timing will probably work out perfectly.”

They did, but it didn’t.

Bill sat on the edge of the couch. “We should go ahead and get you fed, sweetheart. Treble, you wouldn’t recognize her when she gets hungry. The woman turns mean.”

Keith scoffed. “Mean? Charity? You must have her confused with some other tiny blonde who has a Napoleon complex.”

“I do not,” Charity protested, glaring up at him with twinkling eyes.

“You’re a bossy nag,” Keith retorted with a grin. “If I’d known the dinner invitation was just another excuse to needle me about dating…”

Treble took a seat at the kitchen table, a safe distance from the doctor, and smirked at her sister. “He’s right, you know. She used to play ‘school’ with all her adorable stuffed animals and collectible dolls, and she was very strict. She’s the only person I know who’s ever given detention to a teddy bear.”

The men laughed, but Charity sniffed daintily. “Well, I wanted the best for Mr. Snuggles and he was never going to get anywhere in life if he didn’t do his homework.” She wagged her finger at Keith. “I only want what’s best for you, too.”

“So, what did we decide about waiting for Harrison?” Treble interjected. Funny how much she wanted to help Keith avoid the subject of his love life. Normally, she made a living off of commenting on people’s love lives or asking them to do so.

Charity frowned. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind us starting without him, but…this is a special occasion. Bill, if you’ll please freshen up my tea, I can wait a few more minutes to eat.” She extended her empty glass.

As Bill pressed the automatic ice maker, the refrigerator performed noisy variations of a churning grind, the sounds mirroring Treble’s stomach. She knew why Charity was so intent on this dinner, it would be the first time since the weekend Charity was married that the two sisters and Harrison had sat down for a meal together. But the night hadn’t truly started and already the déjà vu had her insides in knots. After her mother’s car accident, Harrison dove into work. In retrospect, she understood that had probably been his coping mechanism, but that didn’t excuse him for being late to meals or letting the girls eat with the housekeeper, Joan, while he had a sandwich in his study. Treble couldn’t truly say whether her initial stunts—shoplifting cosmetics, stealing Harrison’s car—were because she was trying to get his attention or because she was just so angry.

Charity, living up to her name, had always been more understanding, the family peacemaker. She’d been content with the moments of absent affection her father managed to give, the pats on the head in passing even if he wasn’t sitting down and asking about their day the way their mother had. Maybe if he’d looked at Treble the way he did his own daughter, she would have been content, too. What she usually got, though, were reminders not to talk back to her teachers and admonishments to change into shirts that weren’t so revealing.

Not that I’m bitter, Treble thought with a wry smile. Well, she was, but at least she had a sense of humor about it.

Charity sipped her sweet tea. “Oh, I almost forgot! Treble, I had Bill pick up a bottle of wine for you at the store. Could I get one of you strapping men to open it for us?” She glanced to Treble, her expression apologetic. “You usually drink white, don’t you? The selection in Joyous isn’t all that sophisticated, but—”

“I’m sure whatever Bill found will be fine,” Treble said. She would have been okay without a glass, but refusing seemed inhospitable. Bill was more a beer man than wine drinker, and it was a sure bet Charity didn’t plan to have any; Treble couldn’t let it go to waste. Of course, she didn’t intend to drink a whole bottle, either, so hopefully her stepfather and Keith would have some. Bill disappeared into the dining room, hunting through the china cabinet while Charity called out likely locations for the corkscrew they obviously never used.

Treble caught Keith’s gaze. “Join me for a drink?”

He took longer than necessary to answer, and she wondered what he’d been thinking. “Sure.” Turning, he opened a cabinet and reached for the wineglasses on the top shelf. It wasn’t the first time he’d known without asking where something was kept. He seemed at home here.

Home. During the afternoon, Treble had had ample opportunity to study her surroundings, not so much the floor plan and the furniture as the personal touches that made the place uniquely Bill and Charity’s. This was what Treble wanted for herself, this…sanctuary.

Because Bill was out of the room and Keith was wiping the infrequently used wineglasses with a paper towel, Treble was the only one whose hands were free when a quick knock sounded against the kitchen door.

“That must be Dad!” Charity looked giddy. “Treb, will you answer the door?”

“Of course.” Taking a deep breath and reminding herself this night was important to her little sister, Treble twisted the knob.

In the glow of the back porch light, Harrison Breckfield looked down on her. “Hello, Treble.”

“Harrison.” She swung the door wide and stepped out of the way.