Page 20 of Hold My Heart

Evelyn sent her oldest daughter a stern look before taking a seat at the opposite end of the table. “You don’t need to air our dirty laundry right away, Bea. Let her get comfortable first before you bombard her with information. Now.” She laced her hands in front of her and trained that stern look on Olympia. “We’ve been expecting you for a few weeks, Oly. It’s taken you a long time to show.”

“It’s Olympia,” she corrected, squirming under the attention.

“Harlan has been telling us all about his new client and how she’s been putting him through the wringer.” She leaned closer. “Have you been hard on my boy?”

Olympia swallowed the bite of meatloaf, hoping to goodness she wouldn’t choke on it, as she considered her answer. “No harder than he deserves, ma’am.”

Harlan stared at her, his face frozen in disbelief. Then his lips twitched and before she knew what was happening, his head was tipped back and he was howling with laughter. The rest of the room took it as their cue and joined in, snorting and giggling. At her. Even Evelyn was laughing, wiping her eyes.

“You are a bad man,” Olympia grumbled to cover up her awkwardness, pulling her napkin off her lap to wipe her mouth.

He grinned. “It’s why you like me so much.”

A lesser person might have seen it as an insult when everyone in the room was having a laugh at her expense. Luckily, Olympia considered herself made of stronger stuff.

“Harlan tells me you work for an art gallery.” One of the aunts, whose name might be Hildie or Tildie, she couldn’t remember which, fixed her with a look. “What exactly do you do there?”

“I’m the coordinator. One step below owner and one step above glorified go-fer.”

“How do you manage it all?”

She saw Hildie—or maybe it was Millie?—point her crooked nose toward Renee. “What? Juggling a toddler and a job?” Olympia asked.

“You know what you need to do? You need to cut down on your working hours. Take a more direct approach to child rearing. Children benefit from having a strong maternal figure.”

“Yes, I’m sure they do, and I am doing my best.”

How had it turned into a conversation where she felt the need to defend herself?

“Don’t pay any attention,” Harlan interrupted, shooting a smile in her direction. “Aunt Philly has a definite opinion on how things should be done. And she will tell you whether you want to hear it or not.”

Philly held her hands up on either side of her head like flapping wrinkled ears. “I’m just trying to help,” she said in defense.

Uncomfortable, Olympia turned her attention back to Bea and Diane, who were making nearly identical funny faces at Renee. Conversation flowed around her, be it a good-natured squabble or a humorous retelling of a familiar anecdote. All foreign to her.

She twiddled her fingers on her lap and wished for her cell phone. Something to do with her hands to hide from the attention and regain some equilibrium. This was a far cry from the solitude of the last few years. She missed it!

“These mashed potatoes are delicious. So creamy.” Reggie raised a fork to his mouth, eyes closed, savoring the flavor.

“How is it, working with my brother?” Diane asked Olympia. She leaned closer. “Has he tried to put any moves on you yet?”

“Did you use half-and-half in the potatoes, dear?”

“You’re exactly his type, you know,” Beatrix added.

“She’s not my type,” Harlan argued, unsuccessfully.

“He always goes for short brunettes with dark eyes,” Diane continued.

Reggie still had his eyes closed, his fork now empty for wagging in the air. “Very creamy indeed.”

There were too many conversations going on at once. Her attention divided in a thousand directions, Olympia glanced between Diane, Beatrix, Reggie, and Harlan, trying to find a direction.

Diane took a dainty sip of her wine. “If he hasn’t put the moves on you yet, I’m sure he will.”

“Helovesbrunettes,” Bea asserted with a gleaming grin.

“I don’t really feel comfortable talking about this—” Olympia tried to interject.

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