As expected, there were several courses to the dinner, all expertly prepared and presented and discreetly served by the butler and a dark haired woman who was both the cook and the butler’s wife (Jackson had whispered this bit of information into Scarlett’s ear). Fortunately, everything was both delicious and recognizable, nothing too fancy or over the top, and Scarlett guessed that perhaps Barton was mostly a meat and potatoes kind of guy and eschewed anything too trendy or gourmet.
Hannah, who was seated directly across from Scarlett, seemed to have a hearty appetite which had to be a good sign as she continued to recover, though she was still almost waifishly slender. The teenager was in good spirits, chatting happily with Jackson and mostly ignoring her glum, sullen mother and stone faced father. Hannah also peppered Scarlett with questions about just about everything - where she’d grown up, what she’d been like as a child and then a teen, what she was majoring in at college, where did she live now.
Scarlett glossed over the questions about her childhood and high school years, much as she longed to divulge all the awful things she’d gone through and watch everyone squirm uncomfortably in reaction - particularly Neil. The old Scarlett - the willful, angry, and troublemaking version of herself - would have practically rubbed her hands together in glee as she calmly recounted the abuse and neglect she’d suffered at the hands of her grandmother, or how terrified she had been at some of the foster and group homes she’d lived in. She might have even been tempted to show everyone her scar just for the satisfaction of seeing them cringe in horror.
Even as little as a year ago, she could have seen herself doing all of those things and more. Before Jackson had entered her life she’d been carrying around a whole lot of baggage, repressed anger, and basic resentment at the world, and hadn’t particularly given a damn who she might offend with her words and actions. Before meeting him and falling in love with him, she would have felt a rather warped sense of satisfaction at the look of shock on everyone’s face while relating tales of her misbehaving. Even now, the devilish part of her that still rose to the surface every so often longed to share the story Jackson had just reminded her of upon their arrival - how she’d taken her revenge against that awful boy who’d broken her arm by destroying his bike. And, worse, how much enjoyment she had taken from that act of retaliation.
It was a story, perhaps, that she might share with Hannah privately one day, sensing that her half-sister had a rather wicked sense of humor not unlike her own. And that, of course, was assuming Hannah would ever be allowed to see her again under any circumstance.
In order to keep the peace, therefore, and not ruin the entire evening - and with it any chance she might have of keeping in touch with her younger sister - Scarlett sucked it up and continued to be on her best behavior as the meal and the evening dragged on. She smiled and laughed at the appropriate times, replied to any questions directed her way - mostly from Hannah and occasionally Candace - without any sort of dramatic effect.
She glanced over at Jackson quizzically as he slid his hand beneath the table to lightly squeeze her thigh. He was smiling at her warmly, his eyes tender.
“What?” she mouthed. “Do I have something stuck in my teeth?”
He grinned, shaking his head. “Just wanted to say thanks,” he mouthed in return. “I know this isn’t easy for you, but thanks for - well, you know.”
Scarlett winked at him conspiratorially. “I know. And you can make it up to me later.”
He gave her thigh another squeeze in affirmation before turning his attention back to dinner - the fourth or maybe fifth course, she’d lost count by now.
As Barton continued to refill his wine glass, he gradually became more talkative. Whether it was the result of the alcohol loosening his tongue or just his natural tendency to dominate the conversation taking over, Scarlett didn’t know for sure. But while his tongue was noticeably looser, he never seemed to direct a question to Scarlett or even make an attempt to include her in the conversation. At some point the discussion turned work related, about a new project the company had just begun, and it was only the three men who were talking. Scarlett longed to interject, since the discussion seemed to revolve around the building design itself - a subject she was obviously very familiar with since she was about to earn her degree in architecture - but forced herself to keep quiet. Instead, she began a side conversation with Hannah.
“Jackson is taking me to meet your - uh, our - grandparents tomorrow,” she told her, mindful to keep her voice low. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you could come with us?”
Hannah looked wistful and a little sad. “God, I wish I could!” she replied fervently. “And I think all of my aunts and uncles and cousins will be there, too. At least that’s what my Aunt Kim - she’s Dad’s sister, by the way - told me. We keep in pretty close touch by email and text, especially these last few months when I couldn’t leave the house much and had to restrict how many people I could be around. But even before that I never got to see all that much of Dad’s family. It’s - well, kind of complicated, if you know what I mean.”
Hannah grimaced as she gave her mother the side eye, silently communicating to Scarlett that Laura disliked her spending time with the other side of the family. Scarlett could have guessed as much, and that Laura more or less ignored the very existence of her in-laws. It was obvious just from this evening’s dinner that Laura remained very much under her parents’ thumbs, especially her father’s, never defying their wishes. That probably meant spending every holiday with the Gilmore side of the family, and rarely if ever socializing with Neil’s parents and siblings.
“I get it,” replied Scarlett softly. “And frankly that’s a bunch of bullshit. Sorry for the language - I actually promised Jackson I’d rein it in tonight since I usually swear like a sailor - but that sort of shit really pisses me off.”
Hannah’s blue eyes sparkled in mischievous agreement. “I don’t mind the swearing one bit,” she assured her older sister. “I already know you’re keeping all sorts of stories from me, that you aren’t telling us everything about you because you’re pretty sure they’d all freak out. Oh, not Uncle Jack, of course, he’s the best. But maybe someday you can be truthful with me, tell me what it was really like for you growing up, and not sugar coating it to be polite.”
Scarlett shrugged, pushing aside her half-full wine glass in favor of the water one. “The story of my life isn’t exactly exciting, you know,” she cautioned Hannah. “In fact, it’s pretty damned depressing. And haven’t you been through enough depressing crap in your life? Trust me, my life story is pretty much a downer. At least up until the last few months.”
Hannah grinned. “Uncle Jack does tend to have that affect on people. Most of the time he was the only one who could cheer me up when things were really awful, when I felt like giving up. And the only one who would be honest with me, who didn’t try to pretend things weren’t bad. And,” she added, giving Scarlett’s hand a little squeeze, “he was also the one who found you. My savior.”
Scarlett rolled her eyes. “Wow, did that sound corny.”