Oliver hopped down from the diesel truck, leaving his door ajar as he extended his hand to me. "Parker, good to see you again."
"Likewise," our greeting felt so formal. Not at all the way a family should be. "Thanks for picking me up."
"Anytime. You should visit more often."
My reply was vague. "Well, you know how it is."
Oliver nodded and gestured to the taller gentleman. He had climbed out of the truck to join us on the sidewalk. "Parker, this my brother, Bryce."
Bryce and I exchanged pleasantries. He looked a few years younger than Oliver. Twenty-seven to Oliver's thirty. The dirty black V-neck shirt he was wearing made it very clear that he was in better shape than his brother. His shoulders were broader with a well-defined upper torso that narrowed into his belt. His grease-covered jeans had large holes in both knees. They were tight around his thighs, which was a clear sign of the muscle beneath the stretched denim. He walked like a man who spent a lot of time on horseback -- leading with his hips, his legs bowed. His brown cowboy boots had traces of dried mud on them. Which proved that, unlike the guys I'd seen wear them in the city, his boots were not only a fashion accessory. No one could deny that he and Oliver were brothers. They had similar familiar features. The same hazel eyes and square jawline, but Bryce's nose was less bulbous and a little crooked. His cheekbones were higher and more prominent. Their hair was the same shade, but Bryce's was shaggier, all one length and pushed back off his face. The most noticeable difference was a small, but deep scar that intersected Bryce's top lip.
He smiled at me, "Did you come from church?"
The odd question surprised me, and my face must have shown my confusion. "We don't see many folks in suits. Outside of church, that is."
I looked down at my ensemble. Sure, I was wearing a blazer, but I was also wearing jeans - albeit mine were dressier than the ones he had on. And yes, I was wearing a pale pink dress-shirt, but I had chosen not to wear a tie. Instead, I had left the top two buttons undone. It was hardly a suit. I was wearing loafers without socks for Christ’s sake!
"Well, let's get back before Lauren burns our dinner out of spite," said Oliver. "The woman doesn't like to be kept waiting."
The three of us climbed into the cab of the truck. I had expected it to be much larger, considering the sheer size of the vehicle. Oliver and Bryce sandwiched me between them. My feet were resting on a large hump on the floor, which almost brought my knees to my chest. I cradled my bag on my lap and folded my hands over the top.
Bryce looked at it inquisitively. He asked, "Is that a purse?" The question caused Oliver to turn his eyes from the road and examine it as well. He stared at me in hazel-eyed confusion, but Bryce wore a different expression. He looked almost smug.
"No, it's a satchel," I said matter-of-factly, but neither men appeared to understand. "It's a messenger bag," I explained further.
Oliver nodded and turned his eyes back to the road. "You mean like the ones mailmen use?"
"Sort of," I half agreed. "Except I keep things like my phone, wallet, keys and my sunglasses in here."
Bryce's scarred lip twitched in a half-smile. "So, it's a purse." It wasn't a question this time.
It was ridiculous to argue, so I sunk in my seat, defeated. "Yes, it's a purse."
Oliver made a left. "I don't see many men with purses," he admitted. "Must be a city thing. 'Round here, we keep all that stuff in our pockets."
"These are skinny jeans." Again I said it matter-of-factly. Still, they shot me confused expressions, so I pressed onward. "You can't put anything in these pockets."
Bryce cocked his head and pushed his hair back. "Then why do they have pockets at all?"
It was my turn to be confused. I looked back and forth between the two men in utter disbelief. I realized River Bluff wasn't the fashion capital of the world, but skinny jeans weren't new. Then I saw a glimmer of something in Oliver's eyes, and it struck me. "You guys are teasing me, aren't you?"
Bryce chuckled as we turned down a long driveway. "Only a little. Although if you ask me, jeans that tight are indecent. Everything is on display. They also look downright painful."
When we got out of the truck, Lauren was on the front porch to greet us. It was a lovely home. Small. A single-story, but it had beautiful twin bay windows that framed the front door. One must have looked out from the living room, the other from the kitchen. It was an older home but had been renovated to keep up with design trends. The outside was grey-blue brick with white trim and a large wrap around deck. I pictured her and Oliver sitting on the front porch, holding hands and discussing their days. It made me smile.
Lauren ran over to me and hugged me. Then rested one hand on either side of my face, "It's been too long," she said, then proceeded to hug me once more. Like our mother, Lauren had a welcoming manner. I appreciated it but couldn't quite master it myself.
"I only wish it was under happier circumstances."
"I know. But you're here now. That's all that matters." She wrapped her arm around mine and led me into the house. "I still haven't told him you decided to come, by the way."
I shook my head, "Lauren, you have to tell him beforehand. He'll be even more upset if I show up unannounced. It's not like I can tell him myself, the man won't take my calls."
"I know. I'll tell him tomorrow, I promise." She squeezed me, trying to be reassuring. "The service isn't until Friday. That will give him almost a whole week to get comfortable with it."
Lauren brought me to the kitchen and gestured to several chairs around the dining table. Oliver took a seat at the head while Bryce grabbed a beer from the refrigerator then pulled out a chair to Oliver's left. I hung my blazer on the back of the chair opposite of Bryce. "Can I help with anything?" I asked.
Lauren placed a large bowl of potato salad in the center of the table. Then she turned back to pull a baking tray of meat from the oven. "No need, everything's done. I hope you like pork."
I raised an eyebrow, "Actually, I haven't eaten meat for several years." Lauren looked as if I had stabbed her. There was no sense making an issue of it. So I added, "But when in Rome," then settled myself into my chair and added the smallest slab of meat to my plate.
"Smart man," Oliver chuckled. "Otherwise, you'd starve to death around here."
Bryce was the first to begin a conversation as he scooped himself some salad. "So Parker, how long are you in town for?"
"Long enough. I'm playing it by ear."
"Be sure to say goodbye in person this time," Lauren said playfully. I sensed something darker underneath her comment, sadness.
"Of course," I assured her. "I have two weeks leave from the show, but to be honest, I don't know if I'll be here that long. I should get back to work sooner rather than later. Summer is a busy time for us." I must have sounded so serious and dull.
Oliver loaded a scoop of salad on his plate and looked to Bryce, "Parker works for the news. He's a big deal where he's from."
I was from here. "Actually, I don't work for the news anymore," I corrected. "I mean, it's not technically news. Unless you consider Christina's ongoing battle with weight newsworthy." I didn't, but it was my job to comment on it.