Page 36 of Relentless

Oakleigh couldn’t quite decipher the stern whispers, but it was clear from Maeve’s tone that she was establishing firm boundaries for the dinner table that evening. When Sawyer emerged from the kitchen, he took his spot at the table without so much as a sarcastic mumble.

Maeve found a place to sit, not seeming to care at all that her usual seat was taken.

“Let’s bless the food,” Maeve prompted, taking Sawyer’s hand and extending the other to Oakleigh.

“Oh, we’re holding hands? How quaint,” Harper observed. “Would you like me to say the prayer?”

“Thank you for the offer,” Maeve calmly replied, “but I think I’ve got this one handled.”

Bowing her head, she thanked God for the blessings he had bestowed on the family.

Oakleigh cracked an eye, observing her mother in the quiet, sacred moment. Her cheerful veneer momentarily cracked, leaving an unmistakable glare of disdain. By the time Maeve’s prayer came to a close, Harper’s forced smile quickly replaced the utter contempt she held for her younger sister.

“Wonderful prayer, Maeve,” Harper dripped. “Now that you’re a pastor’s wife, you’ll have much more practice.” Her compliment was loaded with a condescending tone that almost gave her away. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.”

Oakleigh pressed her lips shut, holding back the truth she wanted to hurl back in Maeve’s defense. Harper had led theircongregation of thousands in the most eloquent of prayers, but never once had she uttered them out of the public’s eye.

Maeve seemed entirely unaffected by Harper’s snide, underhanded comment. “Thank you, Harper,” she replied.

Harper’s jaw ticked with frustration at the mild response. It was a look that Oakleigh knew well.

“You think Dallas will get back in time before the roads close?” Crew inquired. Using the large serving spoon to pierce through the flaky crust of the pot pie, he piled up his plate with the delectable supper.

“Hoping so,” Maeve stated, smoothing the napkin across her lap. “In the meantime, we’ll work on getting a pen ready for our newest addition.”

“Well, there ain’t no room in the barn,” Sawyer interjected, scooping some pot pie onto his plate. “Did Oakleigh tell you about her latestviralidea?”

“She mentioned something about some new animals,” Maeve acknowledged.

“It’s just a few baby chickens,” Oakleigh rattled off quickly. “And goats.”

“Just a few—” Sawyer sputtered. “You just wait until morning, Mom. This rooster—” he trailed off. Putting his palms in the air to punctuate his frustration, he searched for just the right words. “Let’s just say there ain’t enough coffee in the world.”

Maeve tilted her head, biting her lip as she considered. “Baby animals in the winter,” she remarked. “What an ambitious venture.”

“Ambitious! More like—” Sawyer cut his words short, receiving a sharply raised eyebrow from Maeve. He quietly passed the dish to Harper, who barely scooped more than a bite onto her plate. Sawyer took his frustration out on a carrot, stabbing it aggressively with his fork while muttering under his breath. “Don’t you California people ever eat?”

Harper pushed a potato around on her plate. “I’m so grateful for your warm hospitality,” she announced. “But I’m afraid I’ll be flying out tomorrow morning.”

“I dunno about that,” Crew said, chomping down on a large bite of chicken. “I bet this snow shuts the airport down.”

“Well,” Maeve spoke up, “We’re all praying that’s not the case.”

Harper scrunched her nose, offering another syrupy smile.

“Of course you are.”

Chapter 11

Easy on the Mugs

Harper clenched her fists as she paced around what she considered adingylittle room. Even though she would never admit it, she knew full well that the sprawling ranch house was aesthetically beautiful, from the rich, rustic, rough-hewn woods all the way to the sturdy, custom-built furniture.

Running her fingers across her brow, she gave a voiceless scream.“What am I doing here!”

Her performance through dinner was a well-honed skill, perfected after decades in the public eye, but even that took every ounce of energy she possessed.

Now immersed in solitude, Harper’s curated composure was beginning to crack.

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