Grace Under Fire (Buchanan-Renard 14)

She couldn’t be still another second and began to pace around the kitchen. Her mind was racing again. She took a bottle of root beer out of the refrigerator, opened it, and handed it to Dylan. Then she got another one out and gave it to Nick.

“Guess we’re drinking root beer now,” Nick whispered to his brother.

Dylan nodded. “Guess we are.”

They were both watching Isabel pace.

“I should have said no right away. That’s what I should have done. I’m not ready to be a performer. I’m a songwriter.” She was really starting to freak out, now that it was all sinking in.

“You got up onstage and sang. I watched the video,” Nick said. “You didn’t look at all nervous.”

“I was drunk,” she admitted. “Are you saying I’ll have to get drunk every time I want to sing onstage? I can’t do that... can I?”

“No, you can’t,” Dylan said.

“For God’s sake, Isabel.” Michael was standing right behind her.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard his voice. She whirled around and demanded, “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to hear you say you have to get drunk to sing.” He shut the door behind him and looked at Dylan and Nick. “What’s going on?”

Michael joined his brothers at the table, and Isabel continued to pace while Nick caught him up on the latest news. When Isabel opened the refrigerator, Dylan said, “Michael, you’re getting a root beer.”

“I don’t want—”

“Just go with it,” Dylan suggested.

Isabel walked over to the table, shoved the bottle into Michael’s hand, and pulled a chair out. She didn’t sit, though. She stood gripping the back of the chair. “Michael doesn’t need to know what’s going on. No one but you, Nick, and Dylan need to know. I don’t want the rest of the family involved. This week is a celebration for your parents. I don’t want anything to take the attention away from them.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dylan said. “The thing is...”

“Yes?”

“Nick just told Michael everything.”

“Why did you do that?”

Nick shrugged. “He asked.”

Isabel hadn’t looked directly at Michael since he walked in. That bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

“You’re going to tell Kate, aren’t you?” Dylan asked.

“Absolutely. I tell her everything.” That wasn’t exactly true. There were things she didn’t want to share with her sister—like kissing Michael and then getting dumped by him—because it would only upset her. There was also the fact that Kate loved to lecture. She must, Isabel thought, because she did it so often.

Emotionally exhausted, she fell into the chair and reached for Michael’s root beer. She took a drink, then handed it back to him. She finally looked directly at him. “Why aren’t you sailing?”

“I changed my mind.”

An awkward silence followed his reply. Not wanting to give the impression that she cared one way or the other, Isabel turned to Dylan. “What are these blueprints?”

“Kate and I want to remodel the house. The electrical is shot, and the pipes are old and corroded.”

“Why not sell it and build somewhere else? Or tear it down and start over if you and Kate like the neighborhood.”

Dylan looked thunderstruck. “You wouldn’t mind selling your family’s house?”

“It isn’t my house. It’s yours and Kate’s.”