Sandy wished for a wall to thunk her head against. “It’s Ava’s welcome home dinner tomorrow night, Mom.”
“Exactly! More reason to celebrate!”
“Ava?” Trey asked.
“My other niece,” Sandy explained, her mind already spinning for some kind of excuse. Spending time as a couple with her entire family was entirely out of the question. “Reed’s sister. She’s a photojournalist, who’s spent the past five years in the Middle East. It’s rare she makes it home these days, but she wouldn’t have missed this wedding for the world.”
Trey was smiling like the cat that got the canary. “She sounds like a fascinating young woman. I look forward to meeting her. Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Campbell.”
>
Her mother blushed. “Oh now, you call me Helen. Seeing as we’re getting to know each other and all.”
As her family closed ranks, Sandy couldn’t help but think, We are in big trouble.
Chapter 9
Faced with the entire contingent of Campbells, Trey wondered if he could get them all to list off name, rank, and serial number. It might make them easier to remember. Miranda, the doctor, and Mitch, the architect, belonged to Sandy’s eldest brother, Pete, and his wife Liz. Reed, who owned the local bookstore, and his sister Ava, the prodigal Campbell whose return they were celebrating, belonged to middle brother, Jimmy, and his wife Anita. Then there were Cam and Norah, and Reed’s fiancée, Cecily Dixon. And Helen, the matriarch. There was definitely no forgetting Helen. Trey wasn’t sure if he should be more scared of potential interrogation or of being lured in by her charm. She had it in spades.
In the wake of dinner—a most excellent pot roast—they’d retreated to the living room. Multiple conversations ping-ponged around the room. He took a seat on the piano bench, content to sit back and watch. As a whole, the Campbells were a messy, involved, obviously loving family. It was such a contrast to the stiff upbringing he’d endured.
“You have a really big family,” he murmured as he accepted a post-dinner glass of wine from Sandy.
She hummed agreement as she sat beside him and lifted her own wine. “Nosy, too.”
That had been obvious in the less than subtle queries lobbed his way. But between Norah’s skillful intervention—God love her—and his own experience with routine press interviews, it hadn’t been too bad. And when questions edged too close to the secret they were keeping, it was easy enough to redirect the conversation to Ava and what she’d been covering in Afghanistan or to how the wedding plans were shaping up.
“Just have to make it through dessert, then smooth sailing.” Trey was ready to call the night a success.
“Assuming Pete ever gets back with the ice cream. What’s taking him so long?”
“I don’t know, but if he doesn’t hurry, I’m eating his share of apple pie,” Cam announced.
“While we’re waiting, I just want to take the opportunity to say how much we appreciate your help with our wedding, Gerald,” Norah said.
“I’m just one of many, but it’s my pleasure. And you’ll be happy to know, the tents have been ordered and should be here tomorrow.”
“Have Louis send me the bill for the rental,” Sandy said.
As if he was actually going to do that. Her salary as a public official was hardly enough to cover such an expense. But Trey understood the mix of pride and independence behind the request, and he’d already sorted out how to get around it. “I decided to buy a set for The Babylon. My events coordinator is delighted to have more to offer future clients, so everybody wins. Who knows? Maybe y’all will start a trend with weddings on the green.”
Sandy frowned. Trey looked back, knowing whatever argument she might make had no leg to stand on. Before she could lodge any further protests, the front door opened and Pete came in.
“About time!” Jimmy announced. “We were about to blaspheme and have pie without the a la mode.”
“I had good reason for delay.”
The easy, teasing mood evaporated at his serious tone. Pete’s attention fixed on Sandy. Trey tensed, his body going on alert at the feeling of threat in the air. He automatically wrapped an arm around her, wanting to shield her from whatever was to come. Something flickered over Pete’s face at the gesture.
“Whatever it is, spit it out,” she said.
“Waylan’s back in town.”
Trey felt the quick jerk of surprise and the quivering tension that coiled in Sandy’s shoulders, and he tightened his grip.
Her head fell forward as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Of course, he is.”
Pete offered Trey an apologetic look. “Sorry to drag you into family drama. Waylan is—”