“Mom?” she said quietly, tentatively, as she entered the opulent salon. High-backed chairs and scroll-armed couches formed a conversational area to one side while a six-foot curved cherry-wood bar, complete with backbar, stood out as the room’s centerpiece to the other side. The family had gathered on the leather stools, Dad playing bartender even though James had likely prepared the drinks beforehand. A combination of wine glasses, beers, and highballs sat in front of the adults. None of her nieces and nephews were present.
“Calli!” squealed her sister, flying from one of the stools and grabbing her fluted glass before she rushed over and slung an arm around her mirror image. Twins, Calli felt an immediate rush of energy as she squeezed her sister in return—the other half of her fitting right back into place.
Calli’s mom made similar movements but went straight past her hugging daughters to Jax. Over Isabelle’s shoulder, Jax looked at his mom with questioning eyes and hugged his grandmother.
“How are you, Cat? How’s Trey? And the kids?” Calli pulled back to get a good look at her sister. Outside of the icy-blonde highlights, looking at Cattleya was like sliding into her own skin. She thought about their shared middle name—Linnea, meaning twinflower. One thing of their mother’s tastes that Calli absolutely adored. “You look fabulous.”
Her sister lowered her voice, “Cal, I wish I could say the same. You look tired.” Cat pouted as she touched Calli’s cheek under her eye but the mood lightened as she added, “Good thing we’re scheduled for facials tomorrow.” Cat hooked her arm around her sister’s and pulled toward the bar. “Trey’s great; kids too. Growing like crazy. They’re all out back. You’ll see them soon.”
Calli stopped to give her other brother, Jon, a kiss on the cheek as she passed. Jon smiled and proudly pulled his wife into his arms. “We’ve already told everyone else, but Meg’s expecting.” He rubbed her stomach through a loose shirt. She didn’t show yet that Calli could tell, but she held up a goblet full of ice water as if to emphasize Jon’s point.
“Congratulations to you both!” Calli kissed her sister-in-law on the cheek too.
They had been trying for their first child for years, so the news was welcome, even before Calli had the chance to introduce Jordan. She smiled across the bar at her dad. Richard Lindley was the descendent of the Charles Lindley who’d discovered the Dendrobium lindleyi species of orchids for which the family was now famous. After marrying Isabelle, the resulting naming of everything in their lives had been quite predictable.
Calli introduced Jordan to her family who welcomed her with open arms—a little too open and falsely hospitable for Calli’s taste but that was what it meant to be a Lindley. Her mother sashayed primly over and ensnared Jordan in a hug as well, asking immediately about the men in her life. Calli only shrugged as Jordan gracefully said that she had recently started dating someone who seemed promising.
Richard asked, “What can I pour for the ladies?”
“I’ll take a red, Dad.”
“The same, please,” Jordan said.
He pulled the stemware from the carved overhead racks and poured two glasses. After handing Calli’s over, he offered the second to Jordan. As she accepted, Richard Lindley told her to sit and started on his introductory speeches that Calli knew would lead well into the history of the Lindley family.
Isabelle preened. She, especially, loved the fact that she had married into such a prestigious family in the history of botany. She’d embraced the culture whole-heartedly with private greenhouses, a penchant for floral décor, and in the names of each of her four children. Callista and Cattleya were varieties of orchids. Their younger brothers sported names as masculine as their mother’s creativity could come up with while keeping with the theme . . . Jon Quill and Alder Berry Lindley.
While Jordan humored her father, Calli leaned over to her mom. “How are you?”
“I’m good, Callista. How are you since the . . . you know.” She couldn’t even utter the word divorce.
“It’s an adjustment.”
“I don’t know how you manage without a husband, dear.”
“It’ll be okay, Mom.” She looked over at her dad as he glanced toward Isabelle with an admiring smile. Then she went on, “It had been a long time since we were a couple anyway.”
“That is so sad, darling,” said Isabelle, placing a hand over Calli’s.
Calli turned her hand to take hold of her mother’s. She fought the urge to ask for her acceptance. Instead, she just said, “It’s hard but it’ll be all right, eventually.”
“I will keep praying for you and the boys.”
“Thanks, Mom.” She changed the subject. “How is dinner coming along? Are we having Mama’s dressing?”
“Yes, we found a wonderful new chef. I gave Garvey the recipe, and he said he’d be happy to whip it up for our Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Garvey?”
Isabelle shook her head. “I forget, it’s been a long time since you visited. We have all new staff. The stress of hiring was horrible but we’ve lucked out with Garvey and James. You met him, right?” Isabelle pointed toward the foyer with a questioning look.
Calli nodded with lips pursed and brow crinkled.
Isabelle smiled widely, then added. “It’s a little awkward though.” She lowered her voice as if she were discussing something truly scandalous. “They’re a couple, you know?”
“Really, Mom?” Calli chuckled. “That’s common these days. But I absolutely cannot believe you gave your mother’s recipe to someone outside the family.”
“Oh dear.” Isabelle flipped her hand nonchalantly in the air. “I’m beyond cooking and Cattleya wasn’t here early enough to get started.”
“I could have come down early to help if you had let me know.”
“Nonsense. You’re not really a chef either, darling. Garvey will do a fabulous job.” The fingers of her crow’s feet stretched as she smiled—small evidence for her sixty-eight years.
“Did they move into the servant’s house?”
“Of course.”
Jordan appeared at Calli’s end of the bar. “Hey, lady”—she hesitated—“and Mrs. Lindley.”
Calli’s mom said, “How are you finding our home, dear?”
Jordan gave her decorating a few quick compliments and they were quickly on to a first name basis. Jordan said, “Isabelle, is there a . . . um . . . powder room I might use? The drive was long, and I had a good deal of coffee along the way.”
Isabelle pointed down the hall and explained while Calli took a sip of her wine to stifle her amusement. She’d prewarned Jordan that her mother was proper to an extreme, but she’d never expected to hear the words powder room come from Jordan’s lips.
“Darling,” said Isabelle, placing a hand on Calli’s forearm. “I’ll be back shortly. I should check on Garvey and how dinner is coming.” Her mom slid from the stool with her iced sweet tea and walked gracefully from the room.
Calli’s father grabbed the remote from the backbar and flipped on the TV, finding the first football game of the day. Green Bay was at Detroit, something that was important for most of the locals, but the first game always just served as background noise at the Lindley home. The important game, and the one they’d go to the theater downstairs to watch was the Cowboys. Who were they playing today? Calli couldn’t remember. At one time, Calli had been a number-one-Dallas fan and had religiously played fantasy football. She could recite the NFL rules with the best of football fans. But in recent years, work, the boys, and her strained relationship with Bennett had taken that from her. Maybe today would help her find that part herself all over again.