Hold on My Heart (29 page)

“Stop that, all of you, or this year will be remembered as the time I threw the turkey in the trash.” Beverly smiled a big, fake smile and held up her wineglass. “Now sit down.”

She might have been kidding, but no one could be certain, so they shut up and settled into their chairs instead. Libby’s parents sat at either end. Nana, Ben, and Ginny with baby Teddy in her arms were on one side, with Libby, Tom, Dante, and Marti on the other. The checked tablecloth was covered with platters of food, enough to feed twice as many people, while the walls of the dining room could barely contain them all.

Libby glanced at Tom. He seemed to be holding up remarkably well, and so far no one in her family had asked an out-of-bounds question. She had Dante to thank for that, because once he’d mentioned how a cow lets off hundreds of liters of methane gas each day, and that veganism could end global warming, her dad was off and running. No one had to participate in the conversation much after that.

“Are you going to hold that baby all through dinner?” Nana asked Ginny. “You should put him down once in a while or you’ll spoil him.” She spread a green napkin across her lap.

“He’s six weeks old, Nana. You can’t spoil a six-week-old baby,” Ginny replied.

“Of course you can. He’s smart. He’ll figure out you pick him up every time he cries, and then he’ll just cry more.”

“The first Teddy Roosevelt had a photographic memory. Did anyone know that?” Libby’s father said to no one in particular.

“I bet his mother didn’t carry him around all day,” Nana muttered.

“She can hold him if she wants to, Nana. Peter, would you please say grace so we can get this meal started?” Beverly’s cheeks were flushed a bright, splotchy red. It might have been from the heat in the kitchen. Or her annoyance with Nana. She gulped down half the glass of Pinot Grigio.

Or it might have been from that.

Libby bowed her head along with the rest of them, and stole a peek at Tom. He had his eyes closed and his hands folded reverently in his lap, but a smirk played around his mouth. He tapped his leg against hers. She tapped back.

At the head of the table, Libby’s father cleared his throat. “Look out, teeth, look out, gums—”

“No, Peter. Not that one. It’s Thanksgiving.” Libby looked up to see her mother take another swallow of wine.

Her dad looked only slightly chagrined by her scolding and lifted his glass, clinking his fork against it. “How about a toast, instead? Forgive me for not standing.” He cleared his throat again. “This year, as in so many years past, I am grateful for the love, and tolerance, of my family.” He tipped his head at Libby’s mother, who arched a single brow in response.

He continued, “I’m grateful for the arrival of my most perfect grandson, and his good health. I’m grateful for the new friends we have at our table this year.” He smiled at Tom.

“And me, too, right, Dad Hamilton?” Dante leaned forward and put his tattooed arm out to clasp her father’s wrist. “You’re thankful for me, aren’t you? A little bit?” His smile was broad, his teasing apparent.

Dante and her father had come to discover quite a lot in common, and Libby suspected her father didn’t mind him nearly so much as he had that first night they met.

Her father nodded. “Dante, in the spirit of the holiday, I say yes. I am grateful for you in much the same way that the Native Americans were grateful for the warm, woolen blankets given to them by the first Europeans.”

Dante chuckled. “Ah, that’s very clever. I get it. Smallpox.”

“Daddy, that’s not very nice,” Marti said.

Her father winked at Dante. “That was a test, kid, to see if you know your history. But few people realize that story about the blankets is a myth. The smallpox was true enough, but they’ve never found evidence—”

“Peter! Grace. Or the toast, or whichever, but this turkey is getting colder by the minute.”

“Sorry, Bev.” He lifted his glass again, and spoke fast. “I’m thankful for being right here, right now in this moment, and sharing it with each of you. Amen, and let’s eat.”

Harp music began trilling, and everyone looked around. Dante reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Sorry, that’s me.” He glanced at the screen and frowned. “It’s my boss. I’m sorry, but I should answer this. Please go on and eat.”

Dante rose and left the table, walking into the family room.

“We may as well go for it. The kid doesn’t eat any of the hot food anyway,” Ben said. “And I’m starving.”

The room filled with clinks of platters being passed and spoons clinking against the side of serving bowls. Conversations started in between requests of “please pass me that,” and plates were piled high with food. Libby’s hand brushed against Tom’s as he handed her the basket of rolls, and he gave her such a look of longing she nearly laughed out loud.

“The turkey is perfect, Mom. And it’s hot. I haven’t had hot food since the baby was born. Maybe I will put him down.”

Ginny took a bite of turkey and stood up to take Teddy into the other room where a pristine bassinet was now waiting. But before she could wind her way behind the chairs and out of the dining room, Dante was back.

His forehead was creased with a frown, his lips pressed into a thin line. He was even a little pale.

“Baby, what’s the matter?” Marti gasped.

Forks clanked as they were dropped against the china plates.

Dante looked at Marti. “There was a water main break at the banquet hall. My boss says the entire place is flooded and there’s mud everywhere. He said it’s going to take weeks to clean it up.”

Marti’s eyes widened. Her mouth went slack, until she whispered, “But it can’t take weeks. We’re getting married there in nine days.”

This was just the type of thing to happen around the Hamilton family. Tom should have known the day couldn’t go by without some sort of mishap. Their luck was nearly as bad as his. If there was an abandoned well around, one of them was bound to fall in. But at least he’d be far removed from this dilemma. Marti’s dungeon-themed wedding was way outside of his jurisdiction. Of course, so was Ginny’s baby, and he’d been vaulted into that pretty tidily.

And in that instant, he knew.

He’d land intimately in the middle of this one, too. But a funny thing happened on the way to that thought. He realized he didn’t mind. For a guy who fancied himself a loner, he couldn’t seem to stop helping people. It made him feel good. Especially helping this family. Especially helping Libby.

He’d finally figured it out.

She wasn’t the quicksand. She was the vine he needed to pull free from the past.

The meal seemed to be forgotten as everyone huddled around the forlorn bride and her dazed groom. Even Peter tried to move from his chair, but ended up just turning it and sitting on the edge.

“What did your boss say, exactly?” Marti asked, sniffling.

“He said he went into the stables tonight to feed the horses and he heard water running. And when he went into the jousting yard, part of it was muddy. He kept looking around and finally he found the water pipe in the men’s room had come right through the wall into the banquet room, and water was spraying everywhere. He said it looked like it had been going for hours.”

“What are we going to do?” Marti leaned against his arm. She was a pitiful sight, and Tom felt for her. She reminded him of Rachel, her emotions so raw and intense.

“I don’t know. But we’ll figure out something.” Dante set his jaw, looking determined.

“We just need a place, I guess. I mean, I don’t really have to ride up on a white horse. But we’ve already bought the dresses.”

“I’d be willing to not wear mine,” Ginny said, which earned her a glare from Dante and another sniffle from Marti.

“Maybe you could just wait a few more weeks,” Peter suggested. “Then I’d be back on my feet and the banquet hall could be repaired.”

“I’m not waiting, Daddy. Stop asking me that.” Marti turned toward Dante’s chest and burst into tears.

“Ivan is going to New Zealand for a few months right after the wedding, Dad Hamilton. If we wait, then he can’t be the one to marry us. And he went to all that trouble getting certified online. It would be rude to not use him.”

“Ah, yes. Rude.” Peter nodded.

“How big of a place?” Tom heard himself asking.

Everyone in the room turned to him as if he’d shot off a flare gun.

Marti sniffled and lifted her head from Dante’s chest. “Not that big. We only have forty-four people coming. Why?”

“No reason. I just wondered.”

That wasn’t entirely true. In fact, it wasn’t remotely true, but he wasn’t going to toss out his idea without a second opinion. He looked down at Libby, who was pressed against his side.

She looked up, and it took only seconds before she guessed his intent.

“The ice-cream parlor,” Libby said loud and clear. “You guys could have your wedding at the ice-cream parlor.”

“I can totally pull this together, Marti,” Libby said as her sister sniffled and wiped a tear off her cheek. “I’ve organized corporate events for six hundred people in a month. I can certainly coordinate a wedding for forty-four people in nine days.”

Libby felt a rush of adrenaline, the excitement of having something to plan. She’d missed that part of her job. She was good at this, and she could prove it. She would scout out the best deal, coordinate all the details, and bring it together with precision. And have fun doing it.

Marti sniffed again, looked up at Dante, and then over at her father. “What do you think, Daddy? It’s your building.”

Her father stared back for a long moment, his brows furrowed, and Libby thought for certain he was looking for some way to shoot down the idea. Then he twisted in his chair to face Tom. “What do
you
think? That’s the bigger question. Is the place ready? Ready enough for something like this?”

“It can be ready in a week. With my buddies stopping by to lend a hand, it’s all come together lately. And if we don’t install the ice-cream freezers until after the wedding, there will be plenty of room.”

Libby felt a swell of anticipation, as if she’d become part of a grand, ridiculous scheme.

“Couldn’t you just have it at a regular banquet room?” Ginny said, swaying back and forth as she rocked the baby. “I mean, like a place with an actual kitchen. How are you going to deal with the food?”

Marti shook her head. “We can’t afford a restaurant or anything like that. We were getting the food, and the decorations, and everything from Dante’s boss at a huge discount. Well, not a discount really, because Dante was working extra shifts to cover the difference.”

“You were working for that discount?” Libby’s dad asked. He leaned forward in his chair.

Dante shrugged. “Of course.”

“I thought it was an employee benefit. Why didn’t you kids ask Beverly and me for some money?” He looked from Dante to Marti.

“Because, Daddy, you needed that money for the ice-cream parlor. And we wanted to show you that Dante and I can take care of ourselves.”

Libby’s father leaned back in his chair. “Well, I’ll be damned. And I guess you can, too. I’m very proud of you, Martha. And you, too, Dante. That shows real initiative. Real pluck. And that’s a fine quality.”

He looked back over to Tom. “You say the place can be ready in a week?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Liberty, if Bev and I made a contribution toward this endeavor, do you really think you can set it all up?”

“Daddy, we don’t need—” Marti said, but he cut her off.

“Martha Washington Hamilton, what kind of a father would I be if I didn’t help pay for your wedding? It’s not because I think you can’t. It’s because I want to. And so does your mother, right, Beverly?”

Libby’s mother looked frazzled and dazed, that hot pink flush still staining her cheeks. She lifted her wineglass in resigned agreement. “Of course we do.”