Page 49 of Thick and Thin

“What do you think, baby bro?” Warren said after polishing off another glass of wine—far too quickly. “Will there be wedding bells in the future?”

The eldest Augustus said, “It’s time to switch to water, Warren.”

“I’m fine, dad. I haven’t had that much. Besides, Mariah’s driving.” Warren again zeroed in on his youngest brother. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Are you two getting serious?”

Sinclair looked at me and, for the first time in a long time, I had no idea what he was thinking. “I can’t speak for Lise…but I’m pretty serious about her. Enough that I’ve decided I need to tell you all everything.”

Warren’s face lit up as he formed his mouth in an O but said nothing further. I barely caught anyone else’s expression as I focused on Sinclair. His words were going to shatter my heart to pieces, because if he felt the same way about me that I did about him, then our story was going to be a tragedy the likes of Romeo and Juliet.

Or Swan Lake.

His father said, “We’re listening.”

Sinclair said, “Do you all remember what happened last summer at Winchester Community College?”

Augie asked, “Didn’t you say it was vandalized?”

“It was. And I accused Lise of being behind it.” No sooner had he said that than recognition spread over his father’s face, no doubt remembering that phone call the morning after I’d arrived at the mansion—but Sinclair continued. “Everything pointed at her…because she is the daughter of Rowan Miller.”

By now, Augustus’s face was red and Augie looked confused. Warren, though, sipping yet another glass of wine, asked, “Is that the guy who made dad’s life hell in Winchester?”

“Yes. But—”

“I’ve heard enough!” Augustus said, standing up. “Your whole life, you’ve done nothing but rebel and disobey, and this little act of mutiny convinces me that you will never be a good seed.” To Madeline, he said, “It’s time to go.”

Augie nodded at Vivian and they stood as well. Witnessing the family united—save Warren and his date—simply reinforced my belief that Sinclair and I could never be together. And as they began heading toward the doorway of the dining room, Augustus added, “I knew we should have gone to Vail.”

But Sinclair stepped in the doorway. “You’re wrong, dad. You’re wrong about everything—about me, about the Millers. But you know what? If you want to write me out of your will, fine. I’m tired of trying to be the son you want me to be, because I’ll never live up to your ridiculous standards.”

Warren, standing but still at the table, lifted his glass. “Hear, hear!”

“You were a disappointment long before you started trying.”

“Only because you wanted to believe I wasn’t your son.” Vivian gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth, but Sinclair continued focusing his eyes on his father. “You are my father, and you know it would only take a simple blood test to prove it. Why don’t you want to believe it?”

“I never said you weren’t my son.”

“But you treat me like I’m not. You like to write history to fit whatever reality you want to believe—not just about me but about the Millers. I know the whole story now, not just your side of it.”

“I don’t have to listen to any of this, you ungrateful—”

“You’re right. You don’t have to listen to anything I have to say—but I’d really like your attention. Just five minutes.”

His father crossed his arms over his chest, but Vivian and Augie sat back down…which gave me hope. Mariah grabbed my arm, and when I turned to look at her, her expression was one of excitement.

I didn’t even want to know what that was all about.

Finally, Augustus tilted up his right arm where a wristwatch peeked out from the jacket. “Five minutes,” he said, repeating Sinclair.

“I have a proposal. Thank you.” When it became obvious his father wasn’t going to sit down, Sinclair continued. “I don’t want us to fight—among ourselves or with any of the people we work with. I think you all know I’ve grown to love Winchester over the past few years…and what we did there was dirty.”

Although Augustus raised an eyebrow, he didn’t argue—and I wondered if it was because Sinclair had used the word we, indicating that the whole family, not just his father, was complicit. I knew Sinclair couldn’t have been involved directly, but he was going to take the blame just the same.

“Rowan Miller didn’t ask us to leave. He asked us to mine in a different way. And I’ve been working on a plan since October. If my numbers are right, we can mine in a safer, more ecological way there and it will be profitable and sustainable. And the way I plan to do it will restore the good graces we had from the citizens of Winchester so long ago.”

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