Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
I kept my smile in place. It was polite, after all.
“Oh, Jory, we all love Hannah. She’s just an angel.”
“Thank you,” I replied sincerely, because she was complimenting my kid.
“Lani,” she called over to the woman who had talked to Sam and me earlier. “Sam and Jory are Hannah Kage’s parents, Aaron Sutter’s niece.”
Lani was quick to get up and take a seat next to Sam. “I have to tell you both, I mean, compared to the juggernaut that Sutter is, my real estate development company is tiny, but when we helped sponsor an event with them last year, your daughter made certain that our CEO was right there on the podium with Mr. Sutter. It was huge for us.”
“She’s so young too,” Meg chimed in. “But so poised and well-spoken, as well as culturally dialed in. I have never seen her take a misstep. She’s simply amazing. We must have you all back so our kids can meet.”
I could not imagine anything that Sam would hate more than ever making another trip back out to this house.
Sam had already judged these people, I could tell. I knew him and how his brain worked. He liked his friends a certain way, his closest ones, Pat and Chaz, being those that he fished with and watched football and soccer, basketball and baseball with while drinking beer and swearing. At their houses, he felt at home because he could be himself. He had to be comfortable or it didn’t work.
With Dane and Aja, in their penthouse on Lake Michigan, when we went there, Sam was instantly at ease. He camped on Dane’s couch, was completely in his element, ate and drank and played video games with his and Dane’s kids that my brother had never mastered and complained about incessantly.
“I don’t understand the point of this,” Dane would mutter as Sam directed him.
“What’s to get?” Sam would ask, squinting at him. “It’s called Minecraft. You mine.”
Dane understood architecture but not what Sam wanted him to build. Inevitably, Aja would take the controller from her husband.
At Aaron and Duncan’s place, Sam always kicked whoever was in the massage chair out so he could lie in it and talk, eating whatever delicacies they were serving but, more than anything, vegging with people he cared about. I couldn’t put my finger on the exact moment that he and Aaron had become friends, but everything came to pass because of Duncan. Sam’s buddy and Aaron’s love had been the bridge. But Sam, much like Dane, was for the most part, done making new friends. The circle was all it would be. I said often that one should always welcome more people into one’s life, but Dane always looked at me like that was a bad idea, and from Sam’s face, I knew he was in total agreement. I could tell, in the handful of hours we’d spent with Preston and Meg, that we were not going to be inviting them into our circle. You knew, quickly, who you gelled with and who you didn’t.
“So how are you related to Aaron Sutter?” Lani wanted to know.
“We’re not,” Sam imparted, clearing it up. “Just, you know, really old friends. Aaron basically co-opted our kids, and he’s been Uncle Aaron for as long as they can remember. He’s closer to them than members of my own family.”
I wanted to hug him for acknowledging Aaron, but I settled for leaning into him instead.
“Well, I certainly wish he’d co-opted my kids,” she rushed out.
It sounded odd, and Sam shot her a look that made her squirm a bit in her seat.
“Well, Mr. Sutter certainly adores Hannah,” Meg chimed in, “and I have to say, we’ve been trying for years to do his design work, but he has…another firm…” She trailed off because I was certain that the picture was becoming clear. “Oh, Jory, forgive me. You and Dylan Greer and Fallon Strauss are Harvest Design.”
“We are.”
“You do incredible work there.”
She was trying to fix what she’d said earlier, and that was fine. “I appreciate that, but we only do the design work, as you pointed out. You do all those corporate events that none of us have the patience for.”
She nodded. “But yours is more the creative side. That’s what I got into the field for.”
I almost felt bad for her with how sad she sounded, and the announcement that dessert was being served with coffee and tea was a welcome diversion.
Inside, just from a quick glance, I could tell that nothing was going to appeal to my husband. He liked messy desserts that were clearly homemade, his mother having raised him on her mantra that ugly desserts tasted best. He walked back to me, sat down close on the couch, and asked if we could stop on the way home and get some pie. At the same time, my phone rang and I had a FaceTime call from Kola.