Give and Take Page 4

  While the parents chased down the last adorable monster to settle on the grass for the clown act, I rooted through the bag of tricks to see what I could come up with. I came from a large, extended family, which meant big celebrations and dinners with every holiday. And without fail when the seating assignments were handed out and space was tight, guess who got moved to the kiddy table? Every. Time.

  I had one tried and true way to keep kids amused and well-behaved. Stories. For as long as I could remember, I’d made up stories. An imaginary world I’d escape into much to my family’s consternation. They’d been telling me forever how useless my stories were, but wonder of wonders, my storytelling ability was about to pay off.

  “Hello, boys and girls! I’m…Clowny McClown-face.” Clowny McClown-face? Ugh. That was a horrible name for a clown. Maybe even the worst. Keep going. Professional event planners have to be able to roll with small disasters. Seize the day, Rhia.

  For the next thirty minutes, I simply did my kiddy table routine—the one that kept my nieces and nephews well-behaved and amused. I sang songs and had the kids join in. We did a line dance with lots of wiggles and clapping. I told goofy jokes until they belly laughed, acted out charades, and tossed a few pinches of “magic” glitter. I wrapped up with a story about Mr. Pinky the rabbit and his friend Jelly Bean who save the world from a giant anteater and live happily ever after.

  The kids loved Clowny McClown-face’s one and only (Oh please, dear God) performance. Mic drop. All the parents seemed happy too. Wyatt Thorne didn’t seem happy at all. In fact, his frown was dark enough that I decided to return his belt another day.

  Maybe Monday even, once I’d moved into the Six Brothers Construction offices. Yeah, that would work. Oh, boy. I blew out a breath, and my muscles relaxed for the first time all day. I should be upset and frustrated with how this party had ended. Yet, I was proud of myself. I’d stared near-party disaster in the face and won. Between the newly won grant and today’s success, I felt like I could handle anything.

  Now, if I could just get through our regular Sunday dinner at my parents’ house unscathed—aka without being set up on another date and without losing my confidence—then I’d be okay.

  But I had the evening to myself. I planned to go home, change into my sweatpants and bunny slippers, have a glass of wine, and call the National Clown Registry to get Mr. Giggles’ license withdrawn.

  Chapter 4

  Rhia

  “It’s about time you got here, Rhia. Come over and meet my new resident in surgery this semester.” My mother, Dr. Rosalie Hollis, stood next to potential husband candidate number forty-seven.

  That wasn’t an exaggeration. I’d been counting. My parents, who’d also rooked my aunts and uncles into the conspiracy, had brought home forty-seven—if I counted today’s exhausted-looking resident student trying to look excited, when my guess was what he wanted was a nap—men. Oh, and one woman.

  Aunt Ester’s theory on my single status was that I needed to explore all my options. That maybe I was afraid of coming out of the closet. Not so much, but seeing as how Maddie, Aunt Ester’s female contender, had become a good friend, that one I didn’t mind. The other forty-six, on the other hand…

  “Yes, Rhia, get your butt in here.” My brother, Cole, grinned at me. Oh, I got it. Since I’d asked him to keep quiet about my new job, he thought he had me over a barrel and could push my limits today.

  I rolled my eyes at him. More guiding hands, accompanied by knowing smiles, moved me past my other siblings, Steph and Paul, outspoken Aunt Ada and Uncle Clark, my grandpa, who I stopped to give a kiss to, and my cousins, Martin, Richard, and Phoebe.

  I wasn’t kidding when I said Sunday dinner was a big deal in my family. And this was nothing. A holiday meal was when it got really crazy. I felt sorry for the poor, innocent single men dragged to those to meet me. I wondered if they ever felt like an ancient sacrifice standing on the edge of a volcano.

  I mean, I wasn’t a catch on the Darwinian scale of evolved humans. I didn’t do derivative equations for fun like Steph. I didn’t have a hope of curing cancer like Paul. And I didn’t take practice Mensa IQ tests “just for fun” like Cole. Heck, I didn’t even have the nerve to do a crossword puzzle in pen.

  What I’m saying is these poor men were being conned by my very smart, highly intelligent parents, et al. Perfectly innocent victims. It’s not like what I lacked in superior brain power I made up for in looks, either. Yeah, no. I was average there too. Even my friend Maddie agreed. So, straight or lesbian, I was average in the looks department. Although she did say my ass bumped me up half a point. (Yay squats!) Which was why I never felt guilty about eating seconds of dessert.

  Yet, there the poor guy stood. And ignoring him would be an unkindness he didn’t deserve. So once more into the breach dear friends…

  “Hello, I’m Rhia,” I said, sticking out my hand to shake his.

  “Mark Martin. Nice to meet you.” He smiled down into my face, his handshake game weak. “Your mother’s been singing your praises.”

  What praises? Without the genius IQ or supermodel looks, what did she use as my selling points? Did she get creative? You’ll love my daughter; she’s so adaptable she can move from job to job. Did she go with the big winky-face code words for not exceptional in any area? My daughter has a sweet personality. I’d warned her against using the “breeding hips” line again. I quirked an eyebrow at my mother. She rolled her eyes and shrugged.

  “Well, then I’m at a disadvantage as she’s kept you a secret.” I steered him to the table to get this meal started and finished that much quicker. “Tell me a bit about yourself, Mark.”

  An hour later I knew Mark was brilliant, dedicated, and really, really into bones. How they broke and the many amazing ways of putting them back together. I only understood about half of what he said. Which probably had a little to do with the fact that I sort of tuned out after the second detailed description of setting a compound fracture of the tabula rasa. No, wait. That wasn’t a bone. Whatever.

  He was nice, but definitely not for me. Not that I was even looking. Aaaand not that that stopped my mother. Oy.

  By the time we got to dessert, I was ready to wrap this up. Poor Mark and I had no chemistry whatsoever, and by this time he was looking as ready to leave as I was. But I forgot about his polite Southern gentleman manners, and the fact that my mother was his boss.

  “Would you like to go to dinner one night, Rhia? Maybe next week?” Nice, smart, deluded Mark asked. “I was thinking Beasley’s.”

  Oh, I wish he hadn’t. The whole family literally stopped everything. Literally—not figuratively. Froze. Like when I play a game of red-light, green-light with my nieces and nephews.

  “I don’t know how you guessed, Mark, but that’s one of Rhia’s favorite places to eat,” Cole said from across the table.

  “You just told me,” Mark said.

  “Did I?” Cole wiggled his eyebrows at me and grinned like a hyena. “It’s going to make it awfully hard to say no.”

  Oh, very funny, Cole. He was trying to make me accept by holding the information about my new job over my head. The one I wasn’t ready to tell my family about. The jerk. Older brothers could be a pain in the butt, even when they were thirty. It was a bad idea to let Cole blackmail me just for his twisted enjoyment. Not only did Mark and I have no chemistry, we had not a single shared interest. He didn’t want to go on a date with me anymore than I wanted to date him. Nope. I needed to nip this in the bud now.

  “Thank you, Mark, but no.” I glared over at Cole and then turned my gaze on my mother, holding it steady. “I’ve started my own business, so I don’t have much free time.”

  There was a beat of silence, and then the questions came fast and furious.

  “Since when, Rhia?”

  “What kind of business?”

  “What in the world do you know a
bout running a business?”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “Do you know the percentage of businesses that fail?”

  I’d known this wasn’t going to go over well. Which was why I’d put off telling them. I took in a calming breath and addressed each question.

  “Since when? Two months ago. It’s an event planning business called, Seize the Day. If you recall, I did major in business and I did plan, arrange, and coordinate a lot of events in college. I didn’t tell you because, well, this right here.…” I waved my hand around at everyone and their shocked, worried, and disappointed reactions. “And yes, I know the percentage of businesses that fail.”

  “My daughter throws parties for a living.” My mother’s gaze was so troubled you’d think I’d just announced I robbed banks.

  “It takes money to get a start-up off the ground, Rhia,” my father said, with a shake of his head. “Have you run the numbers? You’ve still got your student loans, so I hope you didn’t take on a small business loan on top of that.”

  He said that as if I’d qualify for one. Ha! And he didn’t have to remind me about my student loans. Those monthly payments were less fun than an annual pap smear.

  “Go ahead,” Steph said. “Tell them your good news.”

  “I was awarded a grant for free office space for one year from the Six Brothers Construction firm.” Not only was I proud of that, but not having to pay rent for my office bought me breathing space. I now had a guaranteed year to grow my business. I was giving myself one year. If I hadn’t grown a solid customer base or I wasn’t turning a profit on my one-year anniversary, I’d shut down and get a “real” Hollis family-approved job. Just until my student loans were paid. And then I could try again.

  “You’re going to be working around construction workers?” My mother crinkled her nose as she took in my new life and found it less than her ideal.

  It wasn’t that my mother was a snob. She was fine with people from all walks of life and backgrounds. My theory was when it came to matchmaking for me, she was searching for a genius IQ to offset my average one. She was afraid that if I ended up with a construction worker, our baby would dilute the Hollis gene pool. Thus, endangering her dream of a Hollis one day saving the world through science.

  “I guess, technically. Construction workers, designers, and architects. But I’ll be in my own office, so not really.”

  “Congratulations, Rhia,” Mark said.

  “Thank you, Mark.” Go figure. Mark. The only one in the room I wasn’t related to, the man I’d met a mere hour ago, was the only one to congratulate me. Sure, I’d tried things and failed before. So, to my family, this new venture wasn’t any different from the others. I mean, they were right—many start-ups failed. But I was mighty tired of being the only unsuccessful Hollis.

  Failure wasn’t in my plans. I wouldn’t fail. I just wouldn’t.

  “Help me clear the dishes, Rhianna.” My mother stood, leaning over to stack plates for clearing.

  “Pretty sure it’s the guys’ turn,” Steph said.

  “Yes, but I want to talk to Rhia, so they’ll take next Sunday.”

  My brothers grinned and happily shoved their dirty plates in my hands, only to lean back and relax for a second helping of peach pie. The joke was on them because I was happy to escape more medical talk with Mark. Of course “talk with Rhia” probably meant another round of the Oh, Rhia, when will you pick one thing and stick with it talk. Not fond of that, either, but at least it didn’t involve broken bones and blood.

  “Another wonderful dinner, Mom.” I kissed her cheek, then took up my job of loading the dishes into the dishwasher after she rinsed them under the water.

  “You know we love you, Rhia. Your father and I only want the best for you. I blame Nona. You got more than your fey eyes from her. She used to fill your head with nonsense when you were little.”

  I was pretty sure I was born with the nonsense already in my head. It’s just that Nona was the only one who made me feel like it was okay. Like the nonsense wasn’t, well, nonsense. But then I grew up and school got more rigorous and challenging. I had to accept my parents were right.

  I needed to stop daydreaming and focus if I wanted to get anywhere. So, I tried to. I’d figured out a way to make it work. I took up journaling. Each day I’d write whatever I wanted for thirty minutes. Short stories. Character sketches. Bits of overheard conversations. Wild fantastic plot ideas. I’d get that “nonsense” out of my system and then move on with my day. It was cathartic and freeing and energizing. I fed my creative spirit, but then focused on the practical to plot my path into adulthood.

  But, man, oh, man, did I miss Nona something fierce at times like these. Times when I felt like the odd man out in my own family. She died when I was a freshman in high school, and for a while I was lost without her. Nona had left me her much-loved, ragged copy of Anne of Green Gables. The one we’d read together over and over. She’d left me a note, one I hadn’t found until years later, scratched on the very last page.

  Your family may be brilliant, but you, Rhianna, you were born wise.

  Stop listening to your head. Listen to your heart. You’ll find your way.

  While it filled my heart, I also didn’t believe it. I wasn’t wise. My nona had been the wise one. I hoped her message would make sense to me one day. Those treasured words were undoubtedly a map to lead me out of the uncertainty of my life. I just wasn’t sure what the key was. Until then, I kept trying.

  “You picked a good one this time, Mom.” Steph entered the kitchen with more dishes. “Mark has serious potential, Rhia. Don’t you think?”

  “He’s very nice,” I said.

  “Plus, you know how you’ve got that hobby of taking in strays? He doesn’t have any family, poor guy.”

  “I take in stray animals. Not stray men. I try to avoid those.” And it wasn’t a hobby. Jeez, she made it sound like I went out of my way looking for stray animals. I didn’t. They kept turning up. The motherless bunny the maintenance worker found at my apartment complex. The bird that had flown into my windshield and broken a wing. Or the stray kitten that I’d found hanging out on my porch this morning. It had skittered away nervously when I tried to get close, but if it was there when I got back, I’d have to see about helping it.

  So, not a hobby. It wasn’t like I kept them. Once I helped nurse them back to health, I found homes for them or released them back to the wild if that was where they belonged.

  “I’m just saying I think you made a mistake in turning him down.” Steph leaned against the center island, shaking her head.

  I think the mistake was that Mom tried to set Mark up with the wrong sister. I held my tongue and finished helping until we had the kitchen squared away, and then made my escape.

  * * * *

  Tomorrow was move-in day into my new office space. Since I’d begun my business two months ago, I’d met clients at coffee shops—talk about noisy!—and libraries—boy, do librarians like to shush people—and local eateries—which quickly became too pricey when clients expected me to buy them a meal while we discussed their event. Especially when they ended up not booking with me after said meal was bought. But rent on even a small office had been out of my budget.

  Until the Thorne brothers. Gah! I was overwhelmed with their generosity and didn’t want to blow this opportunity. My stomach felt like the fluttering of a thousand butterfly wings.

  Calm down, Rhia. This might be a massive opportunity, but it wasn’t some miraculous guarantee of success. No. I still had to find new contacts, track down jobs, pull off events so smoothly and successfully that clients came back and recommended me to others. Between the grant from the Thorne brothers and my hard work, I was ready. I had my office equipment and supplies boxed up. A few pieces of office furniture ready to go. Seize the day.

  The only wrinkle so far, and it was minor, w
as the stray kitten had returned. I found it two hours ago lying under my car, mewing pitifully. The poor thing was in bad shape, weak and underweight. It would need bottle-feeding every few hours if it had any chance to live.

  Which meant the kitten was coming to the office with me. With my own office and the cat too weak to climb from the box, it wasn’t an issue at all. The little cutie would be healthier in a week and then ready to adopt out to one of my many softhearted, cat-loving friends.

  My gaze dropped down to the box next to my bed, checking to make sure her little chest was still moving in and out. It was. I ran a finger gently over its head and back. So frail and sweet. Fine. Maybe I wasn’t curing cancer, but I lived by the motto: every time a kitten finds a home, an angel gets their wings.

  Chapter 5

  Wyatt

  By Monday morning, having had a day and a half to replay everything that happened at the party, I’d come to a conclusion. We’d fucking picked the wrong applicant.

  Damn it. Because even if her story was true—and I sure hadn’t seen a passed-out clown when I’d gone in search of him—everything about her at the party was off compared to at the expo. What happened to the shy, quiet woman I’d met? Laryngitis, sure, but that doesn’t change a person’s energy level, demeanor, and willingness to strip a near-stranger out of his belt.

  Was she a liar? I didn’t know for sure, but if there had been a drunk clown, he must also have been a magician and turned himself invisible. This didn’t reflect well on our new addition around the office. And it was too late to call a meeting with my brothers and suggest we rescind the offer to her. She was moving into the small office down the hall right now, as a matter of fact.