‘Okay. But you must come, Tam. We’d all miss you if you didn’t.’
For the first time in her long friendship with the gang, Tammy didn’t want to attend this get-together. Making arrangements to go would necessitate speaking to Fletcher about it, bringing up a painful reminder of the rift between them—the cause of it on her side. Not that it would make any difference to what had become entrenched alienation on his part, she told herself, yet she still shied from taking another step away from him.
It threw her into confusion when he brought up the subject. She’d come home from an eight-hour shift at the hospital. Fletcher had cooked a very tasty spaghetti marinara for dinner and she’d gratefully complimented him on it.
‘Your monthly luncheon must be coming up,’ he remarked matter-of-factly. ‘Where’s the venue this time?’
‘I don’t think I’ll go,’ she muttered, dropping her gaze to the glass of Chardonnay he’d poured for her, picking it up and idly swirling the wine around.
‘Why not?’
She grimaced at what had to be perverse curiosity in something that didn’t interest him. ‘Jennifer wants to make it a weekend affair,’ she answered reluctantly.
‘Not just a luncheon for the six of you?’
‘No.’ She recited the whole plan to get the issue over and done with, then concentrated on sipping the Chardonnay to remove the dryness from her mouth.
‘Have they all agreed to it?’ Fletcher asked, as though he was assessing the situation.
Tammy looked directly at him, not understanding why he was persisting with these questions. ‘Yes. They’re making the long lunch at Adam’s a joint effort. Tony is taking a case of fine wines. Kirsty and Paul are providing a platter of King Island cheeses. Hannah and Grant will be bringing an esky of fresh prawns from Terrigal. Celine and Andrew are doing salads. Adam and Jennifer will have the meat for the barbecue. They’re all looking forward to it.’
‘What are we marked down to provide?’
We?
A wild hope kicked into Tammy’s heart as she stared at him, seeing no hint of mockery in his eyes, more a steady flame of purpose which was not about to be derailed.
‘I didn’t hear any sweets in that list of food,’ he ran on musingly. ‘Something light with fruit would probably be best…caramelised pears…maybe simply oranges and kiwi fruit soaked in cointreau…a palate-cleanser….’
Tammy was supposed to take fancy breads. She had thought of paying to have them delivered by a bakery, but the possibility that Fletcher was actually thinking of contributing…of accompanying her…kept her mouth firmly shut. If cooking something—preparing something—made it easier for him to join in with her friends, no way was she going to mention anything that might put him off.
Having rambled through several choices for sweets, Fletcher asked, ‘What do you think they’d like? What would be most welcome?’
She’d barely listened, could barely catch enough breath to speak. ‘You, Fletcher,’ she blurted out. ‘You would be most welcome.’
Her heart caromed around her chest.
Had that sounded too much like a demand?
Her eyes begged him to take this step towards her. She needed him with her, needed to know he cared about their relationship, needed him to know she wanted him in her life.
‘Oh, I doubt that,’ he drawled sardonically. ‘I expect they’ll all want to cut me down to size.’
‘Not if you focus on them,’ she pressed. ‘Ask Adam about his books. Bring up money markets for Paul and Andrew to get their teeth into. You like wine. Get Tony’s advice on the best vintages. And Grant is into physical challenges. Chat to him about diving, climbing…. It’s just a matter of moving onto ground that they’re comfortable with. If you show you want to enjoy their company, they’ll enjoy yours. They’re good people, Fletcher. If you’ll just give them a chance….’
He nodded, a wry little smile lurking on his lips, a strange, unreadable glitter in his eyes. ‘Call Jennifer and tell her we’re both coming.’ He rose from his chair. ‘I’ll go and look up sweets recipes on the Internet, find something special. It will be our contribution to the party.’
‘Thank you,’ she breathed, too overwhelmed with relief and gratitude to make any move herself.
She sat at the dining-table, watching him walk away, every nerve in her body buzzing with the thrill of realisation that he was giving them a chance to make a future together. He’d decided to fight her rejection, attack the reasons behind it, and a huge swell of love for him rolled through her. She resolved not to be critical of how he behaved with her friends, to help him as much as she could, to do everything in her power to draw him out of his sense of isolation.
Jennifer was delighted with the news.
She obviously spread it to the gang very quickly because not half an hour later Celine called Tammy, sounding smugly pleased with herself. ‘So, he’s not going to let you out to party alone again.’
‘It’s not like that, Celine,’ she quickly insisted.
‘Oh, come on, Tam. He needed a shake-up. Sending those photos did the trick.’
‘No. It damaged us, Celine,’ she said seriously, needing her friend to revise her attitude towards her brother. ‘I know you meant well, but…I don’t think you understand Fletcher. His life has been very different to yours, not so easy in any social sense. Even in your family he felt like a cuckoo in your nest, not belonging. What you see as arrogance…it’s shutting off the rejection he feels coming from most people because he’s not like them. He was born different. Have you ever thought about how it was for him…being different…envying you because you were normal?’
‘Envying me?’ She sounded so incredulous, it had obviously never occurred to her that her super-brain brother could feel anything but superior, floating loftily over everyone else.
‘Please don’t take any snide cracks at him when we meet up at Jennifer’s party,’ Tammy pleaded. ‘If you’d try to make him feel welcome, I’d really appreciate it, Celine.’
‘Okay,’ she agreed without much conviction. ‘If that will help. I didn’t mean to cause damage, Tam. I thought…I’m sorry…I promise to stay right out of your relationship in future. You clearly know my brother better than I do.’ She hesitated a moment then anxiously asked, ‘Should I apologise to him over the photos?’