Oh, these were Brendan’s parents, all right. No mistaking it. They were stiff shouldered and serious, not at all comfortable in the bar setting. But they were trying, even if their smiles were distracted. Without looking at Piper, Hannah could feel her sister’s nerves over having her future mother- and father-in-law in the bar, so Hannah did what she did best. She called forth her inner hype girl.
Putting on a broad smile, Hannah slipped back off the stool and leaned in to kiss the cheeks of the older couple, squeezing their hands at the same time, drawing their full attention. “It’s so lovely to meet you. Are you enjoying your time back in Westport?”
Louise’s tension unlocked slightly. “Yes, we are. Not much has changed about the town and I find that quite comforting.”
Like mother, like son, huh?
“Piper has been telling me all afternoon how incredible it has been to have you visiting them. You should be worried about her locking you in the house and not letting you go.”
Louise chuffed a little, her cheeks tinting with pink. “Oh. Well, isn’t that sweet.”
Hannah nodded. “She even created a signature cocktail for your visit. The . . . Taggart-tini. Right, Pipes?” Her sister stared back at her unblinking, a smile frozen on her face. “What are you waiting for? Get back there and make them one.”
Piper turned and circled around to the other side at the pace of a sloth.
Wanting to buy her sister some time to actually create the Taggart-tini, Hannah laid a hand on Fox’s arm. “You must know Fox, right? He grew up with Brendan.”
It was impossible to mistake the slight cooling in Louise’s temperature. Very subtle, but Hannah detected it in the pinch around the corners of her mouth. “Yes, of course we do. Hello, Fox.”
Fox turned slightly and nodded at the couple. “Good to see you, Mr. and Mrs. Taggart.” His smile seemed forced. “Hope you’re having a nice visit.”
“We are, thank you,” Michael said, equally stiff.
Hannah frowned inwardly at the exchange, itching to address it with Fox, but Piper chose that moment to slide two cloudy red martinis across the bar. “Here it is!” Piper sang through her teeth. “The Taggart-tini.”
“Oh, well, I couldn’t possibly . . .” Louise started, clutching her collar.
“Oh, but you will, won’t you?” Hannah passed the drinks to the couple, helping them clink their rims together. “One sip won’t hurt.”
Twenty minutes later, Louise had Piper’s face in her hands, her words ever-so-slightly slurred. “I have never seen my son so happy. You are an angel. An absolute angel, isn’t she, Michael? Our son smiles now! It’s almost disconcerting how often he smiles, and you—you are going to give me grandbabies, aren’t you? Oh please. You angel. My son is a lucky man.”
Piper looked over at Hannah, blinking back grateful tears.
Thank you, she mouthed.
Hannah let out a satisfied exhale and went back to her beer, which was unfortunately warm now, realizing after several moments that Fox was staring at her. “Damn, Hannah. That was nothing short of masterful.”
She gave a subtle bow. “The power of alcohol, Peacock.”
“Uh-uh.” Adamantly, he shook his head. “That was all you.”
“Piper was having a hard time relating to Louise. They just needed a little push, that’s all. Who doesn’t love Piper?” She looked back over her shoulder to where Louise was now attempting to slow dance with Piper to a power ballad. “Let’s see if my sister is still grateful tomorrow when she’s got a hungover future mother-in-law on her hands.”
Fox chuckled. “Nothing some greasy potatoes can’t cure. The important thing is, the ice is broken.”
Don’t bring up the weird exchange between Fox and Louise. Don’t. Why do you always have to address every little thing? “Speaking of ice . . .” Nice segue, Barbara Walters. “Did I imagine a little awkwardness between you and Brendan’s mother?”
He took his time answering. “Nah, you didn’t imagine it.” His laugh crackled as he shifted in the chair. “Nothing serious. They were just protective of Brendan growing up, and I was, you know, the bad influence on her otherwise perfect kid.”
There was no bitterness in the way he said it. Just making a statement.
“Do you think you were a bad influence?”
“No,” he said slowly, after several seconds had ticked by. “I was, uh . . . promiscuous before the other guys my age were ready. But I’d never put pressure on anyone else to do . . . what I did. What I do,” he amended quickly. “God, no. I’d never do that.”
It seemed like he wanted to say more. A lot more.
Hannah wanted to hear it. That explanation masked something deeper, but he was already restlessly ordering them both another beer, changing the subject to what she’d done that day. The obviously sore topic was forgotten, and soon they were laughing. Other members of the Della Ray crew steadily made their way through the door and joined the group, until they were all crowded around two stools, telling stories, Hannah getting reacquainted with the locals who’d come to mean so much to her last summer.