Love in a Nutshell (16 page)

Ella joined Kate at the counter. “I’ve come to offer you safe passage.” She hitched her thumb at Deena. “She seems to be lurking.”

“No biggie. I’m getting pretty good with the end run when it comes to Deena, but I’m still not so good with this stuff.”

Ella smiled and tapped the letter, which lay on the counter, just begging to be read to the very end. “Pretty handwriting, but I’m guessing it’s not from a great-aunt leaving you a fortune?”

“It’s from my mother, offering her perspective on where I went wrong. It seems I should have gotten a business degree in college.”

Ella shook her head. “But you hate numbers.”

“You know that, and I know that, but Mom considers it a trifle in the Appleton scheme for world domination.”

“And yet you read on.”

“Yes. Because my mom is probably right.”

Ella pulled the letter from the counter.

Kate made a grab for it. “Hey!”

Ella held the letter in the air above Kate’s shorter grasp.

“Seriously,” Ella said. “I’m taking custody of this. I’ve known you since we were kids. That means I also know how good you are at beating yourself up whenever your mother makes a comment, no matter how well intended. What constructive thing would come from finishing this letter right now?”

“I could learn something.”

Ella handed her the letter. “Learn something later. Put off reading the rest of the letter and come with me for loaded nachos at Bagger’s. It’ll be just like the old days. We can pig out, then go home and sleep.”

Kate stuck the letter in her purse. “So long as I get extra sour cream and guacamole, it’s a deal,” Kate said.

ELEVEN

Matt wasn’t wholly anti-tradition. For example, he got a real kick out of Christmas, especially now that Maura had given him twin nieces to spoil and had another baby on the way. Thanksgiving was a winner, too, since his dad and he had a turkey hunting contest each year. Spaghetti Tuesdays, however, had to die.

The rite had started in junior high, and he’d always been on the losing side. Even when he was backed up by half the football team, they were no match for his sharp-witted sisters. Over the years, Matt had developed empathy for those poor, wild Thanksgiving birds looking down the barrel of a shotgun. It had been a while since he’d attended Spaghetti Tuesday, but he had no delusions. His sisters would cut him no slack. And heaven help Kate if she wasn’t on her toes. His sisters weren’t mean, but they were mercilessly honest.

“Let me know the second you start feeling tired, and I’ll get you out of here,” he said to Kate as they approached the house.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but we’re not even inside yet.”

“The offer still stands.”

She laughed. “Come on, Matt. How bad can it be?”

“It all depends on whether you’re the diner or the main course.”

They reached the porch, and Matt held the door open for Kate. The sounds of laughter and conversation rolled from the back of the house, along with the scents of garlic and spices from his mom’s amazing spaghetti sauce.

Kate ran a hand over the oak banister that had been scratched and worn by generations of tough Culhane kids. “This house is awesome,” Kate said.

“It is.” Matt ushered her past the entry, through the living room and into the dining room, where everyone always tended to gather.

All eyes turned their way. Matt could feel Kate hesitate. He didn’t blame her. His sisters were quite the crew.

“Everyone, this is Kate. Kate, this is … everyone.”

His mother laughed and approached them. “Matthew. Have you lost all your manners?”

Matt gave his mom a hug. “I just didn’t want Kate to feel like there’s a quiz at the end of the introductions.”

Matt’s mom smelled of the rich, flowery perfume she’d worn for as long as he could remember. She looked great, too. Her silver-threaded dark hair had been twisted into a knot, and while her khakis and blue sweater were standard mom-clothes, she wore them with flair.

She held out a hand to Kate. “I’m Matt’s mother, Mary, and you’re Kate Appleton. I remember you as a youngster. You were such a cute little thing with all those blond ringlets!”

Kate shook his mom’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Culhane.”

“Please, call me Mary.”

“Okay.” Kate handed Matt’s mom the shiny gift bag she’d been tightly gripping. “I brought a little something. It’s not much, but my mother taught me never to arrive with empty hands.”

His mom pulled a bottle of Chianti from the bag and laughed. “This is exactly what Barb would have brought, too.”

Kate’s eyes widened. “You know my mother?”

“Of course. It’s been years since we’ve had the opportunity to spend any real time together, though. Back before we all got too busy with children and life, there was a group of us that would get together at Bagger’s now and then during the summer.” She smiled. “In fact, I recall one night when your mother and I had a contest to see who could get the most tips while dancing on tabletops.”

Kate was dumbfounded. “My mom? At Bagger’s?”

Matt’s mom nodded. “Harley’s place was very different in those days. It was the trendy spot to go, like Matt’s is today.” She gave Matt’s arm a little pat.

Matt liked that his mom was proud of him. He was proud of her, too. “Are you thirsty, Kate?” he asked.

His mom eased into hostess mode. “We have water, milk, soft drinks, coffee, tea, wine—and Patrick, my husband—he’s out back with the men—mixes a mean dirty martini.”

“Thanks for the offer, but a soft drink would be perfect.”

“I’ll be right back. Matt, introduce your sisters before the other guests arrive and it gets too confusing.” Matt’s mom gave Kate a sunny smile. “You know, I’m so happy Matt decided to bring a girl along. It’s been forever!”

He just hadn’t had the right incentive, Matt thought. For Kate, though, he’d be willing to do a year of Spaghetti Tuesdays. And that was just for starters.

*   *   *

MATT TURNED
to the family table, where a hugely pregnant woman—and Kate thought that in the very kindest of ways—sat with a woman identical to her, except for the burgeoning belly. Opposite them sat Lizzie and a twenty-something woman with wildly curly light brown hair.

“Kate, you know Lizzie,” Matt said. “Next to her is Rachel, and across from them are my sisters Anne and Maura. Maura’s the—”

“Don’t you dare say I’m fat,” Maura cut in, then winced. “Sorry, rogue hormones. I know I’m only having one this time, but I swear I feel like it could be three. Especially today. Just call me Supercrank.”

“I was going to say that you’re the oldest among us, but I’m guessing that wouldn’t have scored me any points, either,” Matt said.

Maura smiled. “Not a one.”

“Maura and Anne are twins. I was born next, Lizzie eleven months after me, and then Rachel last.”

“We surrounded him,” Anne said.

Kate had no doubt that they had … and still did to this day.

“Where are Todd and Jack?” Matt asked.

“Outside,” Lizzie said. “Hiding, I think.” She focused on Kate. “Todd and Jack are Maura and Anne’s husbands, respectively. They have coming to Spaghetti Tuesday but never really making it into the house down to an art.”

Kate sat in the open chair in front of her.

“If you want to go hang outside with the guys, that’s fine,” she said to Matt.

“No way. I don’t trust anyone at this table not to fill you with lies about my youth.”

Rachel leaned forward, smiling conspiratorily at Kate. “Lies? Why would we have to bother with that when the truth is so entertaining?”

Matt smiled. “See what I mean? I’m going to go grab a beer.” He shot Rachel a mock stern look. “Try not to do too much damage while I’m gone.”

“So,” Anne said as soon as Matt had moved off. “Word at the market is that you and Matt went away for the weekend.”

Kate wondered if she was going to have to post a notice on the market bulletin board disclosing the truth of her nonrelationship with Matt.

“We were up in Traverse City for a day, but it was just business,” she said.

“Business?” Maura asked. “What business does Matt have in Traverse City?”

Yikes! She’d screwed up already. But in her defense, she never would have thought that his family didn’t know what he was doing.

“Well, sort of business. There were a couple of brewpubs he wanted to check out … a little comparison shopping, you know? Anyway, he asked me to go along. It was just a day trip.”

“I don’t know,” Rachel said. “It sounds like a date to me.”

Kate shook her head. “Trust me, it wasn’t. I’m not dating right now, anyway.”

“Why?” Maura asked.

“Maura! It’s none of our business,” Anne said. “But don’t let that stop you if you feel like answering, Kate.”

Kate laughed. She liked these women. In just minutes, she’d grown more comfortable with them than she was with her own sister, Bunny. Of course, Kate wasn’t in the position of constantly being held up for comparison to the Culhane sisters, as she was to Bunny. And despite the goofy name her sister chose to go by in lieu of Barbara, Bunny was one fierce competitor: top of her class, rainmaker in her law firm, and very strategically married. Kate had never measured up especially well.

And Mary Culhane’s story of Kate’s periwinkle-stationery-loving mother dancing on a tabletop had been a mindblower. Her family had been all about proper manners and proper clothing and proper country clubs and schools back in Grosse Pointe. The idea of Barb Appleton table dancing was as improbable as Kate becoming an astronaut.

Right now, Kate might as well have been on Mars. No, not Mars. This place was warmer and a whole lot more hospitable, but still just as foreign.

“I got divorced about a year ago. After that, I decided until I get the rest of my life in order, dating can wait. Plus, I tend to make some pretty atrocious decisions when it comes to men. I’ve got a whole lot of stupid to figure out.”

“Matt’s not an atrocious decision,” Lizzie said.

Kate gave a little involuntary smile. Lizzie was right. “Well, anyway, my life definitely isn’t in order.”

Matt returned from the kitchen with his beer and a tall glass of cola for Kate, then rounded the table to take the open chair at its head. “That’s my motto: Matt Culhane—he’s not atrocious.”

Lizzie laughed. “So just how much of our conversation did you catch?”

“Enough.” He took a swallow of his beer. “And to save Kate further embarrassment—and you guys a whole lot of extra snooping around—I do have a few business things going on in Traverse City. Remember that Tropicana Motor Inn that Mom and Dad would take us to?”

“Yes,” all the sisters chimed.

“I just wrapped up a purchase and renovation deal on it.”

Anne raised her eyebrows in amazement. “You bought the motel with the hokey flamingos painted on it? Now,
that
is an atrocious decision.”

Maura scowled. “I like those flamingos!”

“So do I,” Matt said. “The place was sitting vacant, so I picked it up. And I’m just sharing this with you so you’ll get off Kate’s case about the two of us dating. And no more commentary about my flamingos or my dating choices, or I’ll start dredging up your old dates.”

Everyone was silent. No one wanted to discuss their dating history. It was Lizzie who changed the subject.

“Hey, isn’t that annual beer festival thing in Royal Oak coming up in a couple of weeks? You should take Kate along.”

Kate’s somewhat homesick heart jumped. “Royal Oak? Really? I used to live there.”

Matt nodded. “I remember you mentioning that.”

He turned to Lizzie. “I’m going, but I have my usual road crew coming along.”

“The groupies?” Lizzie asked.

“They’re not groupies,” Matt said, then gazed at his beer’s label. Kate supposed he was just admiring his dog’s smiling likeness.

“They follow you from event to event on their own money for the privilege of pouring your beer and hanging your banner. If that doesn’t make them groupies, I don’t know what does.”

“There is the sexual connotation,” Rachel said. “I don’t think that applies.” She paused, then added, “My university is teaching a class on the Grateful Dead as part of its cultural anthropology curriculum. Groupies would be an interesting topic, too.”

“Rachel is working on her master’s degree,” Anne said to Kate.

Matt looked just a little annoyed. “All the same, they’re not groupies. The thought of Harley and Junior as groupies could mess up a perfectly normal guy for life.”

“I could pour your beer and hang your banner,” Kate said.

“Actually, you can’t pour his beer off-site since you work for him,” Lizzie said before Matt could speak. “It’s against state law for microbrewers.”

Rachel pointed her finger at Lizzie. “Exactly. Which is why Matt has the groupies. Or sometimes one of us goes along, but with Maura due any second now, we’re not up for a road trip.”

“Other than Harley and Junior, who are your roadies, if I’m not allowed to call them groupies?” Lizzie asked.

“Mayor Mortensen and a couple of others have mentioned they’ll be there, though they plan to catch a Pistons game, too, so I’m not sure how much actual pouring help they’ll be.”

“I could at least hang your banner,” Kate said.

Anne smiled. “That definitely sounded suggestive.”

“Okay, here’s another thought,” Kate said. “I could sell Depot Brewing merchandise.”

“I don’t bring merchandise,” Matt said.

“You should,” Kate told him. “If you sold hats and tees downstate, you could really get your name out there.”

He nodded. “I’m betting you’re right.”

“Where in Royal Oak is the event?” she asked.

“In the Farmers’ Market building, downtown.”

“I used to work a few blocks east of there, on Washington Avenue.”

“One street away from most of the restaurants and bars, right?” Matt asked.

“Exactly.”

“They’ve mixed it up some this year with a private charity party thrown in on Friday night. Great for them, but I lose my whole day on Friday now, since I have to be set up earlier.”