Page 25 of Combust
Okay, that’s enough, she told herself, and drew breath to protest.
Before she could speak, Mom leaned around Dad. She stage-whispered, “Cade, if you’re done serving yourself, could you please pass the dishes along?”
“Oh! Sorry!” Cade looked startled.
He regained a tiny bit of credit in Maggie’s eyes when he immediately handed Dad the platter of meat.
He commenced shoving the remaining serving dishes clustered around his plate with higgledy-piggledy haste at everyone sitting within arm’s reach.
Uncle Evan chuckled, but not in a mean way, as he, Dad, and Uncle Mark sorted out the chaos and got the food moving smoothly again.
Cade’s unshaven face flushed with either anger or embarrassment. He scowled ferociously down at his overflowing plate, looking mad rather than repentant.
Sheesh, Maggie thought.He really is feral.
He’s hungry, her bear corrected her.He’s been hungry for a long time.
Maggie eyed him skeptically.Looks pretty well-fed to me. You don’t build muscles like that if you’re starving.
Grandma Elle’s meals were always delicious, but she had outdone herself this week. In addition to the elk, there was a bowl of wild morel mushrooms gathered at the site of last year’s wildfire, sautéed with onions and garlic, then topped with locally-made blue cheese from the Ornelas Dairy. There were also oven-roasted potatoes, and a mix of herbed vegetables from Elle’s kitchen garden. As usual, Mom had baked several large, crusty loaves of sourdough bread, and there was a large ceramic crock of fresh butter.
When everyone had been served, and Justin had led them in giving thanks for the food, they began to eat.
After that, there wasn’t much conversation until everyone had finished their second helpings and the kids began to clear the table in preparation for coffee and dessert.
Mom and Maggie were in charge of the clan dinner desserts. This week, they had baked a couple of extra-large apple pies. Maggie had also brought a chocolate tart decorated with brandied pear slices. It was a new recipe she wanted to run by the family before they began selling it at Cinnamon + Sugar.
As the pies and tart were brought and placed on the table, Dad cleared his throat.
“So, Cade,” he began. “As you may have heard, I’m the chief of our local volunteer fire department. We’re always looking for new blood. Interested in joining up?”
Chapter Eight - Stormy Weather
Cade appeared horrified at the suggestion.
“Fuckno, I’m not interested,” he snapped.
Maggie stared at him in shock. So did everyone else seated around the table.
His brusque tone was a startling departure from the soft-spoken, polite demeanor he had cultivated since turning up at the bakery yesterday morning.
And his expression was almost as fierce as when he confronted Andrew on Friday night. Making a visible effort, he glanced around at everyone, took a deep breath and muttered, “Sorry.”
To Grandma Elle, he said, “Ma’am, I apologize for my language just now.”
Thin-lipped, she gave him a tight nod.
Instead of commenting on Cade’s rude response, Maggie saw Dad’s hazel eyes studying his foreman’s scarred hands with a compassionate expression.
She’d noticed Cade’s scars earlier, but hadn’t paid them much attention. Now, she examined them more closely, and realized that the taut, shiny pale skin looked like old burn scars.
The extent of the damage made her feel queasy. From experience, she knew how badly even minor burns hurt. And these burns hadn’t been minor.What happened to him?
Dad nodded. “If you change your mind, let me know,” he said, his tone gentle. “We could always use a helping hand.”
Cade shook his head. “No,” he said in a stony voice. “My mind’s made up.”
Maggie couldn’t believe him. This dinner was turning into a disaster, and he was a terrible guest.
