Serves Me Wright

She smiled wide and welcoming. “Hey, y’all. Come on in.”

“Margaret, it’s so good to see you,” Connie said, pulling her into a hug.

“You too.” Then she turned to Jennifer. “Jen! It’s been too long.”

Jennifer hugged her back. “Hi, Mags.”

“And who is this?” Margaret asked.

“Margaret, this is Julian Wright.” She paused before adding, “My boyfriend.”

Margaret arched an eyebrow. “Well, hello there. I see Jen’s picked a good one.” She held her hand out, and I shook it. “I’m Margaret.”

“It’s a pleasure.”

“Have you met Chester yet?”

“Not yet. This is all new for me,” I told her.

“Well, come on in. My parents are finishing dinner, and we can eat soon.”

I followed her into the mansion with an assessing eye. They’d had an interior designer. I could tell by the careful placement around the house. My dad had hired a designer for our place in Vancouver. As much as I’d loved the house, it had never felt like home. As if someone else had inhabited it for years and we were just its current occupants. I felt more at home at my place in Lubbock or my mom’s cozy ’70s-era home than I ever had in that cold house. This house had the same cold feel.

“Mom, Dad, you made it,” Chester said, appearing in the living room and hugging his parents.

He…wasn’t what I’d expected. I didn’t know what stereotype had let me picture him as a frumpy nerd, but he wasn’t. He wore a light-gray suit that had been taken in to accommodate his narrow waist and broad shoulders. His dark brown hair was brushed backward and long, coming down just under his ears. He wore black-framed glasses that were more style than I would have guessed.

“Jen,” Chester said when he caught sight of his sister.

“Hey, Chess.”

His brow furrowed. “You know I don’t like that nickname.”

Her lips quirked up as if she had in fact known he didn’t like the nickname. Which was all the more reason for her to use it.

She stepped back and gestured to me. “This is my boyfriend, Julian Wright.”

Chester held his hand out as he looked me over. “You’re the Wright cousin, yeah? From Vancouver?”

I blinked in surprise after our handshake. “I am. Wasn’t aware that news had traveled.”

“Jennifer said she was working at Wright Vineyard, so I looked it up. You’re a co-owner and technically her boss.”

Everyone looked between us awkwardly, as if Chester had just dropped a bomb. Jennifer shifted uncomfortably, opening and closing her mouth in response. But she also didn’t seem surprised that Chester had gone to all of this trouble.

“Technically,” I said with a shrug. “She works for the winery, but it’s a contractor situation, and she reports to my cousin Hollin.”

“Hmm…”

“Chess,” Jennifer grumbled, “let it go.”

“Just trying to figure out how this happened.”

“Are you interrogating them?” Margaret asked with narrowed eyes.

The look that passed between them was not the love and devotion of people who had been dating for a few years, like Jennifer had told me. Margaret had daggers in her eyes, and Chester’s face was full of disdain. What was happening between them? Whatever it was, no one else seemed to notice.

“Of course not,” Chester said. “I like to get the feel of people.”

“Well, cut it out.”

Chester laughed and took a step toward Margaret. He reached for her hand, but she jerked hers back.

“Chester,” his mom said, “why don’t you tell us about the new job that you have?”

It was clear that she already knew all about it, but she wanted to show off her firstborn and favorite.

Chester watched Margaret walk into the kitchen toward her parents for a second longer and then turned back to us. “I’ll be moving back to Lubbock next week to work as the head researcher in a biochemistry lab.”

“Our boy is going to change medicine,” Connie said with a wide smile.

“I still can’t believe you went to all the trouble of getting a PhD and aren’t staying to be a professor,” Jennifer said.

Chester’s head snapped to her, and she shrank back. It had seemed an innocuous enough statement. I really didn’t understand the family dynamics. My own family was a hot mess, but Jennifer hadn’t mentioned that Chester was a loose cannon. Or at the very least, not used to being challenged.

“I was recruited for several academic positions, but they all felt too…mundane for me. I want to work hands-on and see my research implemented in my lifetime,” he said loftily.

Margaret’s parents appeared then. Her father was even taller than I was with a deep brown skin tone and the look of a retired professor—thick-rimmed glasses, tweed jacket, bow tie, and all. Her mother was also tall. Apparently, the entire family was. Her peachy skin was mostly hidden by a long black dress with gauzy sleeves.

“Dinner is served,” she said.

We all moved to the long dining room table and served up the delicacies that they’d concocted for us. The exchange was as tense as it had been in the living room. Something was going on with Chester and Margaret, but at least it took the focus off of me and Jennifer.