Caleb, who thinks he can whisper but hasn’t quite mastered the art, mutters, “No, I think he’s bringing a potential wife.”
Phil’s agog. “One we’re meeting for the first time?”
Rhoswen, as spirited as any of their spouses, drawls, “With this kind of welcoming, I wonder why?”
Both Keene and Phil laugh as they separate us to welcome her into the warmth. But as I follow along side Caleb, my lips curve.
They think I dragged some stranger into the house? Wait until they realize I’ve been keeping her a secret for a damn year.
CHAPTER THREE
PRESENT
I’m a professor.I studied. I made up flash cards to prepare myself to meet Charlie’s adopted family by choice. All of his family he’s embraced into his life since long before I knew him. I was certain I was ready.
Clearly, I was wrong.
Also, when Charlie Henderson said he had a “…few people he’d like for me to meet,” he neglected to inform me it was the entire populace of Collyer, Connecticut and part of the northeastern seaboard.
Fortunately, the farm—as Charlie said the family dubbed the multi-purpose gathering space—can hold the crowd. I take a moment to admire its beauty with thick beams, pitched ceilings, as well as a Christmas tree spanning two floors. Briefly, I wonder if there are more ornaments on it than people crammed around the many tables scattered around the room before my fears resume.
“He definitely skipped a few key details when he was preparing me,” I mutter to myself.
Just then, a gorgeous redhead I recognize from my flash card preparation approaches with a camera Charlie swears always hangs around her neck. She holds out a mug topped with an enormous dollop of whipped cream on top. But even without studying her, I’d likely have recognized the infamous photographer known for both her impassioned pieces and glorious wedding photos as I’m a fan of her work. She introduces herself confidently. “Hi. I’m Holly.”
I hold out a hand to shake her free one. “Rhoswen Campbell.”
“Can I interest you in some cider? Uncle Charlie brought some back from his trip to Scotland and when we ran out of it my sister—Corinna—spent a week in the kitchen recreating it.”
My taste buds flutter in remembrance as I recall the last time I had the very cider Holly’s offering. I accept it with an appreciative, “Thank you.”
Her lips curve. “You’re welcome.”
Sipping the cider brings back a flood of memories that have been locked inside of me. After that first sip, my mouth sets them free. “Charlie and I both bought this same drink when we toured the fishing village of Fife. I wasn’t sure I’d ever taste it again unlesswe went back.” Then I realize what I said and cringe internally, uncertain if this was something Charlie intended to share.
But I’m shocked when, instead of an interrogation, Holly’s lips curve. “It’s you.”
“What do you mean?” I try for nonchalance.
“Uncle Charlie came back from his trip to Scotland…different.” She lowers her gaze, fiddling with dials on a camera I used to wonder if companies slapped on to look good. But Holly? She knows what she’s doing. Lifting the camera to her face, she focuses on her subject even as she murmurs, “I see so much through a lens. Pain, sorrow, happiness. But nothing makes me more elated than when I have an up front seat to the people I love falling in love.” She lowers her lens and studies my face before she says oddly, “I think the garden would be best.”
Her words don’t make sense but then neither does the flush blooming over my face that has nothing to do with the warm drink I’ve been nursing. Her lips curve into a gentle smile. “Welcome to the insanity we call life, Rhoswen. I think you’ll be a beautiful addition to our daily chaos.”
Before I can stammer out a reply, she squeezes my arm and retreats to the kitchen to confer with a gaggle of people I recognize not just from my studying but from the reverent way Charlie spoke of them.
“Each of them pulled themselves out of horrors most people couldn’t fathom,” Charlie explained. “I’m honored they consider me to have been a pivotal part of their healing and growth and now, their family.”
As I sift through everything Charlie’s shared about his family, and everything the media’s plastered about them, one fear risesabove making a good first impression. What if they don’t think I’m worthy of the man they’ve always been able to rely on?
Just then, I meet and hold the ocean blue eyes of Cassidy Freeman Lockwood—CEO of Amaryllis Events—the worldwide wedding and event planning business—and the eldest niece of Charlie’s found family. She’s a brilliant and savvy woman who pulled her life out of the gutter to make dreams come true over and over again. Cassidy’s lips curve into a warm smile, before she nudges the woman next to her.
A woman wearing the most adorable red-framed glasses that make me almost wish I hadn’t got Lasik a few years ago. Curls spiraling everywhere, the blond flashes me a bright smile—almost as bright as the one she shows on the runways when her wedding dress designs are on display.
I’ve barely recovered from recognizing Emily Freeman-Madison when she checks a lithe blond with her hip. The woman’s head whips around and her cool, assessing gaze rakes over me. In the few seconds she holds my gaze, I can tell she’s already planned how she’s going to interrogate me and which jury I should be tried in front of. Charlie warned me Alison Freeman-Marshall is a cool customer on the surface but has a heart so warm, it’s almost been her undoing on several occasions.
Proving how well he knows his family, she tries to stealthily reach around a woman with short brown and caramel streaked hair to snag a brownie from a platter overloaded with them. The woman, Corinna Freeman Hunt, admonishes her sister without looking away from the pot she’s stirring, “Not in front of the guys, Ali. It will be a riot and then I’ll have to drag Brendan into the kitchen to help me bake more.” But since she’s been distracted, her eyes lift and by some magnetic force realizesthere’s someone new in the vicinity. Apologetically, she calls over, “That goes for new people as well. Sorry.”
I lift my drink and smile. “I’m good, but thanks.”