Hawk (A Stepbrother Romance #3)(46)

Lance shrugs. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

He gives me a look of his own as I walk back into the kitchen and carry out the stuffing in one hand and green beans in the other. By the time I head back, Helen has finished slicing the turkey and gives me the serving platter, then follows me out with the butter in the gravy.

God it all smells good.

My stomach twists as I sit down facing Alexis and picture that pot of coffee sitting on the counter, the last time I saw my mother. I shoot my father a glance before I can stop myself and sigh when I remember how this works. Every plate and bowl will be passed from person to person.

Nobody says grace, or anything like that. My father serves himself, passes the turkey to Lance, and the dishes start going around. They come to me last and I pile up a heaping portion of everything, leaving enough so anyone can have seconds.

After years of Navy food, I don’t care where it comes from, I’ll take a home cooked meal. My father breaks the silence with the sound of a knife on his plate and everyone at the table digs in.

May attacks her plate and Alexis elbows her, to slow her down.

“Alexis, would you pass the salt?”

She gives me a sharp look, picks up the salt shaker like she plans to stab me with it, and slaps it hard on the table in front of me. I shake some out over my food, tear a dinner roll open and smear butter on it.

“This week,” my father announces as he slices his meat, “We will be holding our first major campaign event. I expect everyone to be there.”

He looks at me now, as he takes one long dragging slice through a piece of meat, spears it, and raises it impaled on the end of his fork. His gaze never slips from me.

“You’ll all be representing me. I can’t stress how important this is.”

He chews thoughtfully.

“What sort of event?” Alexis asks, softly.

“I’ll be giving a speech at the fire hall. I don’t expect to have to do much stumping.”

“You are running unopposed,” Lance snickers.

“You find that amusing?”

“I don’t see the point of all the pomp and circumstance,” he says. “Everyone in town knows you’re going to be mayor. Waste of time and money if you ask me.”

“You have something better to do?”

He shrugs. “I might.”

“I doubt that. If I didn’t find busywork for you with the company, you’d spend your days lazing about or fraternizing with bar sluts.”

“Thanks, dad.”

I don’t say a thing, I just eat. Alexis keeps looking at me; I try not to meet her glances.

“Sorry we can’t all be war heroes,” Lance grumbles.

I feel something touch my leg.

Alexis smirks around a bite of potatoes and looks away from me. That’s her foot, rubbing my calf.

Damn it. Is she out of her mind?

“I can’t wait,” Helen says, a hint of tension in her voice. “I’m so proud of you, darling. A man of ambition.”

Alexis frowns, and her foot pulls away.

Wait a minute, I’m not the one who said it.

Her mother must have hit a sore spot. Her shoulders hunch and she leans on the table, swirling a piece of turkey around in gravy and mashed potatoes. I nod at her.

“If you’re not going to eat that, I’ll take it.”

“Go to hell,” she says in a flat voice.

“Alexis!” Helen snaps.

My father leans back, eyes appraising.

Alexis drops her fork with a clatter on her plate and shoves it towards me.

“Here, knock yourself out. I had turkey for lunch. Can I go?”

“No,” Helen snaps.

“Yes,” my father says. “It’s all right, sweetheart.”

Shrugging, I pull the plate of food across the table and eat what Alexis left behind as she drags herself up the stairs. A few seconds later her door slams loudly enough to echo off the walls. Helen sits perfectly still, her fork trembling slightly.

“Keep your forks,” my father says, “there’s pie.”

“I’m sure she’s just in a mood,” Helen says, her voice shaking.

“She’s fine,” my father sighs. “Long day yesterday and I dragged her to a business lunch today.”

“I’m not really a pie mood,” May says softly, pushing back her empty plate. “Can I go?”

“May I,” Helen corrects. “Clear the table and bring out the pie first.”

Sighing, May rises and stacks the empty plates until she’s struggling with them, stacked against her chest. I almost stand to help her, but Lance is watching me, his eyes locked on me for some reason. I sit back and let May carry out the serving dishes.

“Set those in the fridge so I can keep the leftovers,” Helen says, idly.

May deposits two pies on the table, a cherry and a lemon chiffon, and stands by them.

“I can go, right?”

Helen scowls.

“Go,” my father says, absently. “Howard,” he uses my given name pointedly, “Pass down that lemon pie.”

I set it in front of him and stand up, and pat my stomach.

“I like to stay in fighting trim.”

“Suit yourself. Helen bakes a fine pie.”

I start towards the stairs and Lance sneers.