Page 47 of Thick and Thin

Vivian asked, “Do any of the dishes have peanuts?”

Sinclair said, “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot to warn Lise about that.” He shot a glance at me.

“The twins are allergic.”

I scoured my brain, trying to remember ingredients, and found it easier to walk down the table, visually assessing each dish. When I got to the end of the table, I said, “Nothing here has any nuts.”

“Pecan pie?”

“No.”

“Perfect. Thank you.” Vivian glanced at Sinclair. “You dodged a bullet.”

“I did.” Once again, he winked at me—and then the doorbell rang. “I’m betting that’s Warren…just in time to be fashionably late.”

His brother said, “I wonder what statement he’s trying to make now.”

Madeline and the eldest Augustus entered and Madeline won my heart when she said, “It smells wonderful in here.”

“Thank you.”

As she took in the table full of various dishes, she added, “And it looks even better.”

Her husband didn’t say a word, but I hadn’t expected him to. Unfortunately, I felt like I knew him better than anyone else in the family, save Sinclair—but it was mostly information I shouldn’t have been privy to. But between my father’s well-founded opinion of the eldest Whittier intermingled with Constance’s account, I didn’t care for the man, especially when I added in Sinclair’s recollections of his childhood.

He was a bad person, which was more than I could say for most people. The kids who had bullied me growing up were mostly reacting to what their parents had told them about my family, and their parents were angry and afraid. Although I wouldn’t necessarily befriend any of them, because they allowed their baser selves to rule their lives and, in the process, treated me horribly, I could at least understand their point of view.

Sinclair had helped with that…helped soften my edges—and I suspected it was because of how we’d grown to know and then love each other.

But his father…what motivated him? Was it greed? Lust for power? And out of everything I knew about him, I couldn’t pinpoint one good or selfless thing about him. In my book, he was a lost cause.

So I really didn’t care if he didn’t like the food today.

Just as Augie, Vivian, and their kids were heading to the dining room, the noise swelled in the rear hall as Warren and a woman entered the kitchen in front of Sinclair. Unlike his father and older brother, Warren’s attire was more casual, consisting of a pale green long-sleeved cotton pullover shirt. His date wore jeans and a red V-neck sweater with furry black high-heeled boots and big hoop earrings. Her short blonde hair was almost platinum, juxtaposed against dark eye makeup and metallic silver lipstick. She was gorgeous, but I got the vibe that her background was more like mine, mostly based on the way she spoke.

But she was loud.

“Oh, my god! This smells just like my mom’s kitchen.” Grabbing Warren’s arm, she said, “Did you tell them, by the way?”

Sinclair’s eyebrows shot up as if he dreaded what they were going to say—but it turned out to be fairly tame. Warren said, “No, I forgot. We’ll be leaving here kind of early so we can catch dinner with her family later.”

Although his face was calm, Sinclair’s shoulders relaxed, but I was the only one who noticed. Vivian and her husband came back into the kitchen to fill up their plates. Warren said, “Augie! Viv! Good to see you guys!”

“You too.”

“Oh, yeah. Everybody, this is Mariah.” And then he went through everyone else to introduce them, but he paused when he got to me. “What was your name again?”

“Lise.”

Smiling, he nodded his head. “Lise, Sinclair’s girlfriend.”

Although I could practically feel the blood draining from my face, it was interesting to hear someone give me that title. Sinclair had only ever referred to me as his employee or date. But perhaps girlfriend was how I was perceived…and somehow that warmed my heart. But what would Sinclair think? When I looked at him for his reaction, his warm smile told me he too was okay with that.

Warren asked, “You guys brought the kids, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Vivian answered. “They’re in the dining room.”

Looking at Sinclair, Warren asked, “Who catered?”

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