“The weather is so frightful I don’t know how anyone is staying on the roads,” Eileen said as she stood in line for the next hug.
“The snow is fun to drive in,” Spence said. “You just have to have a nice big truck.” He kissed each woman on the cheek in turn.
“Well, I suppose for a younger crowd . . . We just got here a few minutes ago. Your father was kind enough to invite us over for supper,” Eileen told him.
Spence looked at Eileen’s flushed cheeks, the glow in her eyes, and the little squirm as she bounced on her feet, and the lights went on in his head.
“Well then, I shouldn’t interrupt,” he said, intending on backing away so his father could enjoy his meal and court Eileen at the same time.
“What a great surprise, son,” Martin boomed from the top of the staircase as he began his descent.
“Hello, Dad. I was coming to chat, but it can wait. I didn’t realize you had company,” Spence said, giving his dad a hug when he reached him.
“Nonsense. There’s plenty of food, and the ladies wouldn’t mind if my handsome son joined us,” Martin said as he threw an arm around Spence’s shoulders.
“I suppose . . .” Spence replied, but he didn’t have a lot of time and he really wanted to speak to his father alone.
“We’re going to go into the kitchen,” Bethel said, “and see if the cook would like any help.” She took Eileen’s arm and led her away.
Spence would have to send her some thank-you flowers.
“Let’s have a drink while we wait for supper,” Martin said, and led Spence into the sitting room. This room was his favorite in the house—the first room he’d entered that day Martin had brought him and his brothers to their new home.
He’d been served the best hot chocolate he’d ever had, and in the fanciest cup he’d ever seen. There was also a tray of tiny sandwiches—with the crusts cut off, which was great since he hated crusts. Martin had laughed and said he’d make sure to have lots of kid-appropriate snacks ready to go. He’d kept his promise, always having chocolate in his secret drawer and fresh-baked cookies daily. This had been a wonderful home to be raised in.
“What has you driving all the way out here in such weather? I can see something’s on your mind,” Martin said as they both sat down.
“Yes. I needed to talk to you about some personal stuff, and I guess I’d best be kind of quick because I don’t want it to be taken the wrong way by Bethel and Eileen.” He was hesitating, though he knew he should just spit it out.
“There’s nothing you couldn’t say in front of those women. They are loyal,” Martin said. But suddenly the man’s cheeks turned pink. “What have you heard about me?”
For the first time in his life, Spence saw his father squirm before him. “It’s about me, Dad,” he said quickly. He hardly wanted to force his dad to admit to something he might not be ready to talk about yet.
Martin recovered instantly. “Well, of course it is, Spence. What else could it be about?” He put two fingers of scotch in a glass and drank it down.
“I . . . well, I’ve been around Sage a lot . . .”
“That’s my boy! I knew if I could just get the two of you together, it would all work out.” Martin stopped suddenly, and his cheeks colored again, this time for an entirely different reason.
“What?” Spence was dumbfounded. What was his dad talking about?
Martin coughed. “Uh . . . nothing. You go on.”
“You have some explaining to do, Father,” Spence said, knowing he should sound more firm, but oddly he was only curious.
“Well, you know, my friends and I were just thinking that you boys aren’t getting any younger. We weren’t trying to meddle or anything. We were just . . . putting two available adults together.” His words came out stronger, even huffily, at the end of his small speech, almost as if he felt he was the victim here.
“You’re matchmaking?” Spence said, his voice rising sharply.
“I’ve done nothing of the sort. So what if we kind of pushed for Sage to accept the offer for this hospital? And I was feeling mighty ill when you decided to take the ER position here.”
Martin kept speaking, but Spence wasn’t listening anymore. This had all been a setup—a setup that he’d fallen into quite nicely. So why wasn’t he angry? Why wasn’t he storming from the house? Why wasn’t he reading his father the riot act?
Because the setup had worked—at least for him.
Though the meddlesome five were the ones who’d started everything, the feelings Spence was developing for Sage had nothing to do with his father or her grandmother. They were all-male feelings, and he wanted Sage to know exactly how much he liked her.
“Oh, if Sage knew about this, you would all be toast,” Spence said, realizing that he’d better never, ever tell her. She’d skin them all alive, and especially him for going along with the scheme.
“I’ve known little Sage since she was a small child. I’m sure she would be thrilled to be a part of our family,” Martin replied.
“Whoa! Slow down there, Dad. Don’t start planning the wedding just yet. I can’t even get the girl to go out on a date with me.” How he hated to admit that.
“Well then, you have to try harder.”
Spence turned to find Eileen and Bethel in the doorway, both with identical expressions of frustration on their faces.
“What?” He’d been saying that a lot lately.