The Couple Most Likely To

“In his anguish over Robbie,” he continued, “Uncle Terrence took everything Dad had written in the opposite way to what he’d intended—as a further indictment of my uncle’s choices, his marriage, and the way he was raising his kids. I can understand my father’s message. The thousands of letters he’s received over the years from around the world attest to its value. I’m proud of him and what he achieved, but my uncle and his family did suffer because of that book.”

“We all did,” Eric Logan said. “Word got around. I’ve seen copies of both books with the fictional names Uncle Lawrence gave us footnoted by hand with our real names. Our friends’ parents passed the book around the way people used to with dirty magazines in high school.”

Bridget picked up the story, while Jillian stayed significantly silent, Jake noted. He had the impression she’d reached her personal comfort threshold and was ready to leave the emotional revelations to others. “Kids would ask us if he beat us,” Bridget said, “and what was wrong with our mom, and why didn’t they just get a divorce, and was my dad the worst father in the world, if it said so in a book that millions of people had read.”

Eric put his arm around his sister. “People willfully took the book’s message in the wrong way, when it referred to our family. A lot of people were very happy for us to prove single-handed that money can’t buy happiness. I heard whisperings that Robbie hadn’t been kidnapped at all, that he was buried in our basement and our parents had put him there.”

Nancy clicked her tongue in distress and she and Robbie held each other more tightly.

“I was the youngest, which spared me the worst treatment,” Bridget said, “but as I grew older I could understand why Dad was angry.”

“And yet we’ve all lost out, over the years,” Jillian came in. Her tone edged toward clinical. “I think people always do, when there’s that level of family conflict. I want to heal the rift—in this generation, and hopefully even between our parents. Over coffee at the conference, I convinced Jake to come back to Portland. This potluck supper is our first attempt at reconciliation.”

“I’m glad it’s happening,” said Scott. “I’m glad to be a part of it. Jillian and Jake, thanks.” He put his hands together and began to applaud, and soon everyone had joined in.

“Your parents aren’t here,” Stacey said beside Jake, when the applause died. The story had drawn her in. He could see the troubled emotion in her face. Because she’d never felt close to her own parents or her sister? Jake wondered. He knew they’d moved to San Diego some years ago.

Jillian pulled a wry face in answer to Stacey’s question. “No. Well. First things first. We’ll have to work up to it.”

“Were they asked?”

“My father and stepmother are in New York for a few days,” Jake said, “Visiting my brother L. J.”

“And our parents didn’t want to know,” Jillian put in. “Especially Dad.”

“I think it’s his problem, Jillian. Time heals, but he won’t let it do so in this case.” Bridget hugged her older sister. “I agree with Scott. I’m so glad you’ve done this.”

The formality began to fragment and the noise level rose again. Stacey remained at Jake’s side. “I had no idea about the rift in your family,” she said, when no one else was close enough to hear. “You never told me.”

“It didn’t seem important to me back then.”

“But it does now? It must, or you wouldn’t have come back to Portland.” She stayed silent for a moment as she thought, then her face changed suddenly. “No. That’s right. Yesterday you told Nancy if family tensions run too high, it’s very easy for you to leave. Portland might be your hometown, but it’s a way station for you, just like any other place, just as you always wanted.”

He couldn’t mistake the anger in her voice, or the shift in her attitude. She didn’t think highly of the way he ran his life, and she took it personally.

“Stacey—”

Stacey gave a mechanical smile and didn’t let herself meet Jake’s eye. “Excuse me, Jake, I’m going to grab some food now and say hi to Nancy.”

“Hey, look, don’t you think we need to—?”

No. She didn’t think they needed to do anything.

She knew she needed to find some space. She was furious with herself.

And, yes, as Jake had picked up, she was angry with him, too. He hadn’t changed…and she should have understood this at once. She should never have flirted with him over the oven controls, letting the old attraction show so openly.

She found it disturbing enough that the attraction still existed. To act on it in any way would be asking for trouble. He stood close, a little threatening in the way he confronted her. What did he want? Honesty? To dig up the past?

“Let me breathe, Jake. It’s a mistake, thinking we have anything left for each other after all this time. Anything except anger and regret.”

He gave a tight nod. “You’re probably right. I just wanted to talk.”

“Well, I don’t.” She turned away from him and looked for Nancy across the room.

She’d been captured by all the wrong memories, yesterday and this evening. The good memories. Memories of how she and Jake had once connected to each other with humor, and through the sizzle of teasing laced with awareness. Nothing’s funnier than a joke between two people who want each other, no matter how lame the actual lines. She and Jake used to laugh all the time, while their blood sang with wanting.

So help her, her blood still sang with wanting, but she had to forget about that and focus on all the ways he’d hurt her, and all the signals that he hadn’t changed. She spent the next hour talking to other people, helping to serve the hot food.

Anything to avoid getting too close to Jake.

Chapter Three

The situation was ironic, Jake decided.

He’d come back to Portland to heal one rift, only to face another one. And to be honest, in his adult life he’d been affected a heck of a lot more by what had happened between himself and Stacey than by the fact that his father and his uncle didn’t speak to each other.

Am I going to let this happen?

Am I going to let us go the whole evening without talking about what we went through together, and how we feel now? I want to say Anna’s name out loud, to the one person who’ll understand how sweet and sad it sounds.

No. He wasn’t going to let it slide.

He couldn’t.

They had to talk.

He looked across the room at Stacey. He’d been tracking her the whole evening, for a good two hours at least, although he’d tried not to let anyone see it—especially Stacey herself.

To his eyes, she was the star of the whole gathering. The prettiest. The warmest. The best listener. The one who set up the most unlikely conversational pairings—such as the one between his brother Ryan’s supercilious, bored-looking girlfriend and his cousin Eric’s quiet wife, Jenny.

“Anitra, Ryan tells me you’re studying for a law degree, part-time, while you model,” Jake had heard her say, while pretending he wasn’t listening. “Jenny, you’re an attorney and I know you were juggling a lot of commitments at one stage. Any tips for Anitra?”

Now Anitra was laughing with Jenny, in the middle of one of those very female conversations where they’re both nodding like crazy and going, “Oh, I know! Oh, absolutely! Oh, I totally understand!” the whole time.

Jillian and her friend Lisa Sanders were talking together very earnestly. Stacey had been a part of their conversation for some minutes, also. Lisa seemed a little upset and agitated. Stacey had listened intently to what she’d said, nodding and frowning. Now Jake heard Jillian say in a decisive way, “You cannot have something like this hanging over you, Lisa, and neither can Carrie and Brian. Get the legal situation checked out. If there’s any chance that your ex could invalidate the adoption…”

Lisa chewed on her lip. “My ex. I can’t believe we were ever involved. It seems a lifetime ago. And I can’t believe he would try to mess with all our lives like this, just because he thinks there’s something in it for him.” She shook her head, sounding distressed, and Jake realized he should move farther away from what was obviously a very personal conversation.

Meanwhile, Stacey had retreated to his kitchen to load the dishwasher, which unfortunately matched the oven and had similar cryptic controls.

His cue, he decided, heading in that direction. “Try the Mercedes-Benz symbol, Stace.”

“Yeah, I would,” she answered, straightening. If her cheeks had been a faint, pretty pink before, they were flushed now. It suited her, hinted at her emotional nature. “Only there isn’t one.”

“Leave the dishwasher,” he growled at her. “I want to talk to you.”

“The feeling isn’t mutual, Jake, right now.” She hunched her shoulders, and hugged her arms across her front. “We—we flirted before, and we shouldn’t have. It was irresponsible and meaningless and just dumb. If you think I’m backing off fast…you’re right! I don’t want to talk.”