Page 45 of Thick and Thin

“Not at all. You’ve outdone yourself.”

“It’s all thanks to Edna.”

“Not all. She’s not here to put on the finishing touches. Do you think it’ll all be ready by one?”

“Yes. I just need to start putting everything into serving dishes.” Edna had tried talking me into setting up a more formal buffet using Sterno burners, much like the caterers had at Sinclair’s dinner party months ago, but I didn’t want to be reminded of that night. Even though it had ultimately been the impetus that had brought Sinclair and me together, I had felt humiliated and ashamed. Today I was choosing to serve a meal, but I wanted to feel like an equal, rather than a servant. When my father and I had a Thanksgiving meal, we let the food set out for a few hours before putting it away—and I probably wouldn’t do that here, but it wouldn’t hurt to let it be out during the meal without a flame underneath.

“How can I help?”

I marveled at this wonderful man, believing that earlier in the year when I’d first arrived, he wouldn’t have lifted a finger to help me. But now he was willingly, taking platters to the place on the table where I instructed—and I felt a pang of longing, knowing that this would be the only Thanksgiving he and I would spend together.

To myself, I said, Better enjoy it.

But Sinclair’s family was about to make that all but impossible.

Chapter 17

Less than fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rang. I had only heard it once or twice before, and I hadn’t realized how loud it would sound in the kitchen—but it made sense when I thought about it. Edna spent much of her time in here. Although the mansion didn’t seem to get many unannounced visitors, she would have to be able to hear the doorbell when they did and I wondered where else that sound was amplified throughout the mansion.

Sinclair said, “Would you like to come with me to greet the family or—”

“As much as I’d like to, I need to finish a few things.”

“Of course.”

But I’d been lying. I could have dropped what I was doing to go to the door with him, but I was feeling nervous. Even though I’d already met these people before, I hadn’t seen them in private—and knowing that there had been a few contentious moments in public in a restaurant, I suspected tempers could flare much more in the open air of the mansion.

Besides, I knew I didn’t belong here. Even though I’d grown far more accustomed to Sinclair and his wealth, I was a square peg. I could pretend, of course, by wearing diamond earrings and keeping my mouth shut for the most part, but I knew…and I’d soon be returning home.

It wasn’t long before I heard several voices wafting in from the antechamber, but they didn’t grow clearer until they were moving down the main hallway and getting closer to the west rear hall. As I heard them approaching, I busied myself as I finished carving a few more slices off the turkey, hoping I appeared natural.

I heard what I thought was the voice of one of Sinclair’s brothers as they rounded the corner. “It looks fantastic, Sin.”

“I can’t take any credit. That’s all thanks to Lise and Edna.”

Then I heard another cacophony of voices, but I couldn’t distinguish them. Soon, they stood in the west rear hallway getting ready to enter the dining room. Sinclair peeked his head in the doorway. “Lise, would you come here for a second?”

I looked up, hoping my appearance was satisfactory, and I put on the sweetest smile I could as I crossed over to the doorway. “Hi. So good to see you.” It was Augustus, who I was going to call Augie in my head, and Vivian—and three children I assumed belonged to them, but I didn’t want to say so.

As I approached, Sinclair’s oldest brother gave me a nod, but Vivan actually gave me a hug. She said, “These are our children, Augustus, Olivia, and Evelyn.”

Although I wasn’t certain, the youngest Augustus appeared to be twelve or thirteen while the girls looked to be in elementary school. All three children looked like the perfect mix between the Whittiers’s strong jawline and dark brown hair and Vivian’s fine, thin appearance. “Are they twins?” I asked, marveling at how the two girls looked so much alike.

“They are,” said Vivian, obviously in love with her children.

“And that’s why we decided they would be the last,” her husband said.

The children all nodded, polite but unnaturally quiet. Vivian said, “And this is Lise, Uncle Sinclair’s…friend.”

That label sounded good to me—and, fortunately, Sinclair changed the conversation’s focus. “They brought a Riesling, so I’m going to add it to the bucket.” He held up a bottle of wine to show me what he was referencing. He’d already chosen a pinot noir for dinner—but I suspected this family might make short work of both bottles.

I would not be drinking.

“Where should we sit?” Augustus asked, following Sinclair into the dining room.

“Can I help with anything?” Vivian asked me, immediately endearing her to me. For a brief second, I thought she might make a nice ally or possibly a good friend in this intimidating family—but I wouldn’t be here much longer, so there was no sense trying to make it happen.

“Oh, thank you so much. I’m just about done here.”

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