Page 19 of Hold My Heart

She shot him a brave smile when he braked to a halt. Her stomach decided to do a half flip with a twist at the end. “I’m ready.”

“Funny. You saying that tells me you are definitelynotready. I promise you’ll enjoy yourself. You won’t have to do a thing tonight, just let us take care of everything. And there’s a pool in the backyard—”

“No.” Olympia bent to remove Renee from her car seat. Her stomach did a second half gainer at the thought of leaving her four-year-old anywhere near water. Renee clutched at her, still singing. “Whatever it is you’re going to say, don’t say it. I do not want her going anywhere near the pool. I don’t even know if she knows how to swim.”

Which was why she refused to leave Renee alone even in the bathtub.

Harlan gestured toward the front door. “I will be happy to change your mind. Have I told you how lovely you look tonight?”

“Your compliments do nothing to sway me, mister. You can keep them to yourself.”

She didn’t get a chance to reprimand him further. Her arm wrapped around Renee and the baby balanced on her hip, she plastered a smile on her face when the door opened.

“You’re late.” A dark-haired woman Olympia could only assume was Harlan’s mother stood with her hands on either side of the door frame, one eyebrow raised, and more attitude in human form than physically possible. A loose braid hung down past her chest, standing out against her golden complexion.

Instead of looking chastised, Harlan stepped forward to loop his arms over her shoulders. “Didn’t you know?” he said as he lifted her off her feet. “Whenever I arrive is the right time. That’s the way it’s always been.”

She slapped at his back to be put down, her gaze falling on Olympia. “You brought a girlfriend?”

“Client,” Olympia and Harlan said at the same time. The scrutinizing glance his mother shot her sent a flash of color rising to her cheeks. She refused to give in to any kind of awkwardness or embarrassment. She could handle Carl on his worst days. Which meant she was primed for this kind of outing. Despite noticing the sweat on her palms.

“Olympia Trumbald,” she said by way of introduction, “and this is Renee.”

“Evelyn.” The squat beauty holding the spoon, Olympia now saw, took them both in with a quick and calculating head to toe sweep before stepping aside. “Well, come on in. This one might not think he’s late, but the meatloaf is done and everyone is starving waiting for him. You know how your father gets when his dinner is late. He is mad at you.”

Harlan gestured for Olympia to follow him, not in the least bothered by his mother’s smack talk. “He’ll be fine. It will give him a little break from filling up so quickly and making himself sick.”

The second they stepped through the door into the interior of the home, they were met with a blast of sound. It was similar to a crowded restaurant, she thought. Averycrowded restaurant, one where everyone was yelling over each other to be heard.

Evelyn shot her a curious look when she tried to slip into the dining room unannounced, as though hoping no one would notice her presence.

Not quite.

The conversation didn’t exactly halt when the group saw a new face. More like the volume went down a few notches. The scrutiny she’d seen on Evelyn’s face was a shared trait, apparently.

“Hello.” Olympia went for polite if reserved, wondering again why she’d agreed to come.

There were too many names to remember. Too many faces to try to keep straight and too many relationships and backstories and hugs. So. Many. Hugs.

She lost sight of Renee almost instantly, the child swept away into the eager and caring arms of Harlan’s sisters, Beatrix and Diane. They looked similar enough that she wondered if she’d have a hard time keeping them straight. Both were dressed in black blouses with cutouts on the sleeves and little silver embellishments near the shoulders, their sandy-colored hair pulled behind their ears in matching loose buns.

Unconsciously, her attention pulled in a thousand directions at once, Olympia reached out to take Harlan’s hand, her life preserver in an unfamiliar sea. He laced his fingers through hers and continued through the introductions. There were siblings and cousins, his father—a thin and slightly balding man with a small beer belly and a permanent impish smile—and even a few neighbors thrown in for good measure. Maybe she should have brought Mama Nunez over after all. What was one more person in an already packed house?

Olympia tried to count heads and found she came up with a different number each time.

It was party madness. It was more people packed into one room than sardines in a can.

She took a seat at the head of the table and was instantly presented with a glass of wine and a plate heaped with more food than she’d eaten in the last three weeks combined. Glancing over at Harlan for confirmation, he shrugged and mouthed for her to just go with it. None of the others were intimidated by the portions or the people. For them, this was normal. For her, it was a different game entirely. She was used to being alone or at most a small family gathering where there were two to four people around a table.

“Mr. Anderson,” Olympia said during a lull. Which, she’d come to find out, was a rarity in this family. “How long have you been interested in collecting decoys?” She gestured with her fork to the impressive display of brightly painted wooden mallards in the nearby cupboard.

“Thank you for noticing! All my life.” Reginald—AKA Reggie, AKA Pop—let his fist fall to the table with an excited bang, his woolly-worm eyebrows waggling in excitement. “It was my father who got me into the mallards. We used to go duck hunting together. Real family bonding.”

“No one wants to hear about your ducks.” Evelyn brought a steaming heap of corn from the kitchen and set it down in the middle of the table, jerking her hands out of the way moments before the horde lunged for a share. “They’re the bane of my existence.”

“Well, she did ask,” he replied grandly.

“Daddy is a bit of a hoarder, you could say,” Beatrix offered, looking pleased with herself. A miniature version of Evelyn without the spoon. “You think the mallards are bad? You should see the garage. It’s the one little area Mom lets him hoard to his heart’s content. There aren’t any available spaces anymore. There are stacks of old newspapers, glass bottles...”

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