Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“Just some business,” Uncle Bryce says. “Nothing to concern your pretty head about.” He smiles, and for a moment I think he’s going to tousle my hair.
Brock, Uncle Bryce’s son David, and I are all about the same age. Uncle Bryce used to tousle heads all the time, and he still does it on occasion, though he does it less often now that my hair is pink. He also still resorts to infantilizing and chauvinistic remarks—like my pretty head. I’ve learned to ignore it—it’s part of Uncle Bryce’s charm.
Uncle Bryce and Uncle Joe walk toward the front door and talk in low tones, leaving Brock and me standing in the foyer.
“By the way,” I say to Brock, “congratulations on your engagement to Rory.”
Brock smiles. “Thanks.”
“So when’s the wedding?”
“We’re not sure yet. Have you heard the news, though? Rory and Jesse and the band are going on tour. A huge international tour beginning in January.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. Two guys from Emerald Phoenix—”
I drop my jaw. “What? Emerald Phoenix? Jett Draconis?”
“Yeah. You heard it right. It’s incredible. Jett and the keyboardist, Zane Michaels, were at one of the band’s gigs last weekend, and they asked Dragonlock to open for them on their tour.”
Happiness for Rory and the band flows through me. I’ve been a huge fan of Jesse Pike and his band for as long as I can remember.
“That’s unbelievable. And great! So no wedding yet, I suppose.”
“Probably not until after the tour. Besides…there’s so much else going on…”
“Yeah.”
I’ve heard the talk about some things coming to light regarding our family, but honestly, I don’t know a lot about it. I try to stay in my own space. I’ll be there for my family if they need me, but unless they require baked goods, I’m not sure what I can do for them.
But I am curious.
“You okay, Brock?” I touch his hard shoulder. “For someone who just got engaged to the most beautiful woman in Snow Creek, you don’t look all that…happy.” I can’t help a chuckle. “I never saw you settling down. Not anytime soon, anyway.”
Brock sighs. “I’m ecstatic about Rory and me, cuz, but…there’s just some shit going down that’s…well…bothersome.”
Bothersome? Interesting word.
“Anything you want to talk about?”
“Ava?” Aunt Marj’s voice nags me from the kitchen.
“Maybe some other time.” I roll my eyes. “I’ve got a party to plan.”
Brock nods. “Everything’s okay. Or it will be, anyway.”
Uncle Bryce and Uncle Joe are still standing by the door, engaged in low conversation. Are they waiting for Brock?
Must be, because when he joins them, they head outside. The Steel Boys Club. I hate to say it, but it’s true. The Steel men are good men, manly men…but they can be a little hard to take sometimes. They’re overprotective to a fault.
I walk into the kitchen where Aunt Marj is seated at her large oak table, notes and cookbooks strewn in front of her.
I gaze around her perfect creative space. She’s a trained chef, and her kitchen shows it from her six-burner Viking gas stove to her marble countertops, which are perfect for kneading bread. I spent many days here when I was a kid, learning to bake. It became my passion, and I had marble counters installed in my kitchen at the bakery because I swear nothing works better for hand kneading. With the right amount of flour, your dough never sticks to the surface.
Aunt Marj’s stainless-steel refrigerator looms tall in the corner, and her Italian espresso and cappuccino machine is the centerpiece on the opposite wall. She designed the kitchen herself, right down to the artwork—all vintage advertisements that she found in old cooking magazines.
“So what are you thinking?” I ask.
“Thanksgiving theme, of course,” she says. “Since they were married on Thanksgiving.”
“But this year their anniversary falls on a Saturday evening.”
“Right, but that’s only two days after Thanksgiving, so the theme is still relevant.” She flips through a couple of pages of the cookbook in front of her. Another one is open to a full-color photo of a turkey next to a cornucopia of fall vegetables. “Plus, gratitude is always a good thing, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, of course it is. But I was wondering…”
“What?”
“What about a wine theme? Dad is retiring as master winemaker, and Mom loves his wines.”
“Wine isn’t really a theme, Ava.”
“Why can’t it be?” I take a seat at the table and grab one of the cookbooks. “It’s our party. We can make it however we want.”
“I suppose so.” She wrinkles her forehead. “Maybe a Greek theme. Celebrating Dionysus, the god of wine.”
“Dionysus was also the god of fertility and ritual madness,” I say dryly.
Aunt Marj laughs. “Sounds like a Steel party to me.”
“I do like the idea of a Greek theme,” I say. “My mom has always said she’s half Greek, but she says nothing about her father other than that.”