Page 27 of Midnight Clear

“Go ask your dad,” Hank said.

“No way,” Charlie said, expression horrified at the thought. “He’s the worst. I always beat him. Besides, Mom said he couldn’t play anymore because he got too excited and broke her plant.”

Hank’s lips twitched, tucking away that bit of information for later use. “I’ll tell you what. As soon as I’m done with the boiler I’ll come beat you.”

Charlie gave him a gap-toothed smile and held out his pudgy hand for Hank to shake. “Deal.”

“Oh, Hank,” his mother said, peeking into the mudroom. She looked frazzled and her cheeks were pink from the heat in the kitchen. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You’re not leaving are you?”

His mother was still one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. Her hair was a softer shade of red than it had been when he was a child, and it was artfully highlighted with wisps of blond. Her skin was smooth due to a fantastic esthetician, her eyes a snapping blue, and she had a voice like an angel.

She’d been on the way to Broadway stardom when she’d met his father forty years before. Mick had been dragged kicking and screaming to the opening night ofKiss Me, Kateby a guy who’d set him up with a mutual friend for a blind date. Mick hadn’t had much interest in the blind date, but he’d taken one look at Anne Winslow and fought his way backstage after the show to get an introduction.

Mick got tossed out on his ear by security that night, but not before he’d gotten Anne’s number. It had been instant attraction for the both of them. A once-in-a-lifetime meeting of souls that were meant to spend eternity together. They eloped two weeks later.

Then in a very short period of time their lives and priorities changed. His mother finished the run ofKiss Me, Kateabout the time she found out she was pregnant with his oldest brother Duncan,and his father was sent the news that his old man had died suddenly from a tractor incident, leaving the ranch to his widow and to fend off all the wolves coming out of the woodwork to try and buy up prime real estate.

His parents had no choice but to come home. It was a sacrifice they’d both been happy to make.

Hank had grown up hearing the story of how his parents had met. Maybe it had painted an unrealistic expectation in his mind of what it would be like when he finally met the right woman. But Sophie’s face kept appearing in his mind, and he knew she was the right woman.

“I was heading down to the basement,” Hank said. “Dad said the boiler is acting up.”

“Oh, right,” she said, waving a hand in dismissal. “If it’s not one thing it’s another in this old house. Don’t tell your father, but I wouldn’t mind living out the rest of our days in one of those sleek condos you’re building downtown. I heard there will even be laundry service.”

“You heard right,” Hank said, shocked at her confession. “I thought you loved this place.”

“Some days I do,” she admitted. “Today is not one of those days. I’ve got a boiler from the pit of Hades, fences that always need mending, creaky floors, and your father keeps escaping to the barn to smoke those cigars of his. Not to mention I’ve got a twenty-pound turkey I’ve got to figure out how to shove in that ancient oven. Which is why I’m glad I caught you before you head out to look at the boiler. I need your man strength.”

“Good thing you had sons instead of daughters,” Hank said, pulling off his gloves and following her back into the chaos.

Cheers greeted him from his sisters-in-law as he came into the old farmhouse kitchen. The smells that greeted him would be worth every bit of inconvenience and headache in the end.

“Our hero,” Raven said.

Hattie winked, rubbing her very pregnant belly, and said, “Have I ever told you you’re my favorite brother-in-law? I’m too fat to maneuver myself and a turkey in this kitchen.”

“What Mom needs is a new kitchen,” Dylan said, giving him a look that made him very nervous. “One of those new state-of-the-art kitchens that would fit all of us as we grow. You’d think there was someone in the family who could see to something like that.”

“Hank’s offered to renovate this place more times than I can count,” Anne said, coming to her son’s defense. “The problem is I can’t decide what I want. There’s too many choices. So I’ll just leave it as is until I can make up my mind.”

“What you need is one of those home makeover shows,” Hattie said, popping an olive in her mouth from one of the snack trays.

“Ooh, I love that idea,” Raven seconded.

Dylan nodded enthusiastically. “Then they can just come in and get to know your style before kicking you out and redoing the whole place. No decisions needed.”

“I thought I was here to shove a turkey in the oven,” Hank said, the heat from the kitchen snaking rivulets of sweat down his back.

“Shove away, son,” Anne said, pointing to the oversized roasting pan on the counter. “May the Lord be with you.”

He snickered and made his way over to the oven, making sure the rack was in the right place for optimal space, and then he turned back to look at the turkey with doubt.

“Dad might have gotten a little overzealous in his turkey selection this year,” Hank said.

“Not at all,” Anne said. “Served him right if you ask me. Meanest turkey we’ve ever had here on the farm. Terrorized all the other animals. He got into the pen one day and scared the chickens so bad I didn’t get eggs for a week. I can’t tell you how much pleasure it gave me to yank out his giblets and shove butter under his skin.”

“That went darker than I thought,” Hank said. “But I’ll eat him anyway.”

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