Page 19 of Holiday Hopefuls
But Rhodes’ inquisition doesn’t stop, the warm baritone becoming more demanding. “Did you always want?—”
“Hey!” A heavy arm appears out of nowhere, landing over my shoulder. Ian grins at the therapists in front of us. “Everything alright?”
Dr. Rhodes’ eyes narrow, bouncing between Ian and myself.
“Yep, all good”—I gesture to John and Rindy—“I was just chatting with Cici’s family.”
Recognition touches his every feature. “Cici McNalley? Oh, cool. From Callie’s stories, she seems like a sweet kid,” he directs to John.
“I’m doing my best,” John mumbles, a small smile playing on his lips.
Ian’s brow furrows, though I’m positive I’ve mentioned Cici’s situation before.
“As Ci’s favorite aunt?—”
“Only aunt,” John interrupts.
Rindy waves him off. “And I am, therefore, her favorite. Anyway—” she squares her narrow shoulders “—I think I get to decide if my niece is being raised properly. And while I think she could do with a few more toys,” Rindy deftly ignores a pointed look from her brother, “I can say, in my expert opinion, that Ci is the best kid I know.”
“I think she’s the only kid you know.” Dr. Rhodes peers at his colleague across the tiny table.
Rindy merely shrugs, causing Ian to chuckle.
As both our bodies rock with his movement, Rhodes once again flits his cool eyes between us. I can practically feel his professional opinion forming, albeit incorrectly.
Not atypical for us.
“This is my best friend Ian,” I feel the need to explain to our audience. Slipping out of Ian’s hold, I pull a Vanna as I officially introduce the fifth member in this awkward impromptu conversation.
“Hey.” Calm and cool as ever. Ian plants both hands on his hips, scanning the intimate crowd of three.
The McNalleys respond in kind, while their business partner simply watches.
“His brother is actually the lead singer and guitarist in the band tonight,” I offer.
Rindy’s eyes light up. “Oh, Aaron Fairchild? He and my wife go to the same gym. Says he’s a great guy. It’s actually why we’re here.” She motions to the group as John and Dr. Rhodes share a conspiratorial look.
“Is she coming, too?” I ask.
Rindy checks an expensive-looking watch. I think I’d have to teach for approximately eighteen thousand years to be able to afford a matching timepiece. “She’ll be here, but she’s gonna be late. An end of day meeting got put on her calendar last minute.”
“Well, I know she’ll love it, no matter how much of the show she sees. Aaron’s band has worked really hard for years.” I glance at Ian. Grinning, he’s ever the proud brother. “They put their all into every song.”
“Cal,” Ian whispers, nudging my elbow, “look.”
My eyes follow the direction of his nod, where my sister is heading toward us looking extremely uncomfortable.
Constance Rutherford is many things, but fashionable is not one of them. Fitted black trousers are covered by a lumpy beige sweater while her scarlet hair that matches mine is pulled backinto a severe topknot. Being on the shorter side of the height spectrum, Imogene has tried getting her to wear heels time and time again to no avail. And here’s good ole reliable Connie in her favorite black flats.
“Lovely,” I grumble, pasting on a smile for my least annoying sibling. Just in time for her to reach our group. “Hey, Connie.”
My sister casts a suspicious glance around our immediate area, taking in the outsiders. “Calloway,” she mutters, eyes landing back on me only when she’s sure she’s seen all there is to see. “Ian.” Connie nods as though she’s giving condolences.
“Hey Con,” Ian practically shouts across the small distance.
She winces at the volume, even with the overall noise in the bar.
“What brings Serenvale Springs’ favorite investment banker here on this lovely Friday evening?” I ask, quirking a brow.
