“You’ll always have a room here, baby. You know that.” Her mom dipped her head and shook it at the same time.
Now would be a good time to inform Mom about her unemployed state, but that news could wait. Maybe after the wedding, when everyone returned to their regular schedules. “Is everyone coming to dinner?”
“Of course. Noel will be here straight from work. He said he invited a friend.”
“A girlfriend?”
Her mother rolled her eyes. “I wish. He’s in his thirties, for goodness’ sake. How much longer is he going to make me wait for grandchildren?”
“He’s married to his work.”
“Don’t I know it. But ledgers don’t produce living, breathing babies.” Her mother turned a burner off as she checked on another pot. “Eve is already here. Her condo got flooded from an upstairs neighbor, so she’s staying in her old room until the repairs are done.”
“That’s awful.” Guess I’m not the only one dealing with stuff.
“It was just terrible. She lost everything.”
Poor Eve. Starr straightened, then put on her calm façade. “And Angel?”
“Angel and Ashton will be joining us too.”
Her stomach dropped. “He—they will?”
“Of course.” Her mom gave her an odd look. “Wedding preparations are in full swing, and those two are never out of each other’s sight.”
Disgusting. What had she subjected herself to? Maybe she should’ve looked harder for a job in the city. Anything to avoid seeing her ex and sister fall all over each other.
Her mother stilled, her brow furrowing. “You aren’t jealous . . . are you?”
“Of course not.” Starr put her practiced as if expression on. She’d perfected the look in the Amtrak bathroom because she knew someone would ask at some point. “We’re old history.”
“Well, not that old. It was only two years ago you two were together.”
Way to rub the salt in, Mom. “We weren’t serious.” Well, he hadn’t been. She hadn’t known how serious she’d been until he’d willingly parted ways to go after Angel.
“I didn’t think so. You never introduced us to him.”
“We lived in different states!” She stared at her mom, shock running through her.
“Oh, sweetie, that won’t matter when you meet the right guy. You’ll see.”
If her mom was going to ignore how Angel and Ashton got together, Starr wouldn’t be expecting any sympathy this holiday season. Welcome home, Starr. “I think I’ll go up to my room.”
“Be sure to change into something presentable.”
Because her slacks and silk blouse were abhorrent? “Yes, Mother.”
“Don’t you ‘Mother’ me. We’ll have company. Dress your best.”
Of course. That was her mother’s motto.
two
Waylon Emmerson adjusted the Windsor knot in the red tie above the V of his black sweater. Mrs. Lewis always required her guests to dress up for dinner, and he was scared enough of her that he’d follow her wishes even though he’d rather throw on a football jersey and sit in front of the TV.
But then he’d be alone for Thanksgiving.
With his sister living overseas in Japan and his mother’s recent passing, Waylon found himself adrift. Thankfully, Noel had invited him over to the Lewis household for Thanksgiving dinner. A little time with their crew should take his mind off the red that had begun to creep into his mom’s store’s—no, his store’s—ledger. He needed to think of ways to propel the shop to success, but not tonight.
He slid his wallet into his back pocket and grabbed his cell and car keys. Since he lived in Alexandria, it would take him a little while to drive to DC. The metro traffic always annoyed, but holiday traffic was more painful than a tooth in need of a root canal. Maybe everyone would be off the streets and around the dinner table by now, allowing him to get there more quickly than usual.
Traffic, indeed, moved slowly, but it did move. Finally, he turned onto the Lewises’ street. Every house in the neighborhood shone with white lights outlining the homes. They looked classy and full of holiday cheer. He pulled into the half-circle driveway and parked behind Noel’s car.
Waylon adjusted the hem of his sweater as he went up the walkway, then rang the doorbell.
The door swung open, and his breath caught. Noel’s youngest sister stood in the entry, an inviting smile gracing her face. Where was the awkward pipsqueak who used to hide around the house? In her place stood a beautiful woman. Her light brown hair fell down her back in big curls, and her black floral dress hugged curves he’d never seen before. Her light brown skin practically glowed. Then again, the shine could be from the foyer lighting. “Starr?”
“Hey, Waylon.” She motioned him to enter. “How’ve you been?”
“Um, good.” He cleared his throat and stepped over the threshold. When had Starr become so . . . so . . . stunning?
His pulse beat erratically. Since when did his friend’s little sister’s looks wreak havoc to his insides? “Uh, how are you? Haven’t seen you in forever.”
“I’m good.” She flashed a smile, but something about it seemed forced.
“Are you sure?” he asked softly.
Noel had told him Angel was marrying Starr’s ex. Maybe she was hung up on what’s-his-face. For some reason, the thought twisted his insides.
“Yes.” She nodded, bobbing her head too quickly to be taken seriously. “It’s good to be back home.”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
Surprise danced across her features.
“I mean, Noel is. He couldn’t stop talking about it.”
“Really? I didn’t think he’d noticed I was gone.”
Waylon leaned against the foyer wall, feigning a nonchalance that was far from accurate. “I think you’re his favorite.”
“No way.” She stepped closer, whispering as if they were conspiring together. “I’m pretty sure Noel wishes you were his real brother.”
“Well, Gabe can drive anyone crazy.” He chuckled. “But, nah, Noel loves his family.”
Skepticism had her brows contorting. “Hmm. Maybe I’ve been gone too long to recall that particular quality of his.”
“What quality?”
Starr whirled around, and Waylon straightened as Noel strode down the hall.
“Are your ears burning?” Starr placed her hands on her hips.
Noel patted his ears. “Should they be?” He bent down and kissed her on the cheek. “Happy Thanksgiving, sis.”
“Happy Thanksgiving to you.” She gestured to Waylon. “Your friend was revealing all your secrets.”
“I wasn’t.” Waylon slid his hands into his pockets. But if Starr didn’t know she was Noel’s favorite, then, yeah, he’d inadvertently let a secret slip.
“He better not. I know some of his.” Noel grinned.
Starr rubbed her hands in glee. “Do tell.”
“First, tell me the secret he told you.”
“That I’m your favorite.”