“Yes, come along, Annie. Bobbie has spoken,” Trevor murmured in her ear, the only one who seemed to realize that Annie had been given no choice in the matter.
She looked at him dazedly as Bobbie bustled away and Jamie ushered Sam and Abbie toward the car. “I wasn’t expecting an invitation to lunch,” she said. “I didn’t bring anything. And I hate to intrude on your family holiday.”
“One thing you should learn about the McBrides,” he advised her kindly. “There is always room at our table for our friends. I can speak for everyone when I say we’d love to have you join us today.”
Annie was quite sure he wasn’t speaking for Trent.
“Besides,” Trevor added, “Mother is very grateful to you for stepping in at the last minute for the choir the way you did this week. She has a hard time expressing her feelings sometimes, but feeding you is her way of showing her gratitude.”
She didn’t see any way to decline now without hurting Bobbie’s feelings. She could only hope there would be enough people there that she could avoid a potentially awkward encounter with Trent.
TRENT WAS NOT SURPRISED to see Annie at his parents’ house for Easter lunch. He knew his mother well enough to have expected her to bring Annie home, whether Annie had wanted to come or not.
Fortunately there were enough people there to make it unnecessary—if not downright impossible—for he and Annie to be forced to engage in private conversation. To Bobbie’s delight, the entire extended family had come for the day. The atmosphere was hectic, with adults talking and laughing and children running and shouting, but Bobbie didn’t seem to notice the chaos as she bustled from room to room, barking orders like a maternal drill sergeant, and being obeyed with the same deference. She was in her element.
Trent was sitting in one corner watching the activities—specifically, watching Annie mingling so easily with his family—when his older cousin Lucas sank into the chair beside him.
“Crazy, isn’t it?” Lucas waved a hand to indicate the general pandemonium. Having been separated from his family for nearly fifteen years, reunited only four years ago, Lucas still seemed to be adjusting to being around so many McBrides at one time. He and his wife, Rachel, lived quietly in L.A., making a couple of trips a year to Honoria to visit his sister, Emily, and the rest of the family.
Trent nodded. “I’m not used to so many people around, either. A few minutes of peace and quiet would be welcome now.”
“So you’re enjoying living on your own?”
“It suits me,” Trent replied, his amusement fading. He liked to think he had adapted well enough to the curves life had thrown him. There had only been a few problems he hadn’t been able to deal with, he mused, his gaze drawn across the room to where Annie stood chatting with Rachel.
Following his gaze, Lucas said, “Annie seems very pleasant, though I haven’t had a chance to talk with her yet. I’m a little confused—did I hear Aunt Bobbie say she’s Trevor’s housekeeper?”
Trent scowled, thinking of how ridiculous it was that Nathaniel Stewart’s daughter was being introduced that way. Even though that was exactly what she had chosen to do, he reminded himself, still finding her choices hard to comprehend.
It wasn’t that he considered housekeeping a demeaning position in itself—it was honest, if very demanding, work. But he simply couldn’t understand why she worked as hard as she did, risking her health and leaving her no time for leisure, just to prove to her father that she could make it on her own. There were plenty of other ways for her to make an independent living—he had no doubt Annie could do whatever she wanted. He still believed she had chosen the job that would most annoy her father.
“Trent?” Lucas sounded a bit puzzled. “Did you zone out?”
“Uh, yeah. Sensory overload, I guess. You were saying?”
“I was asking what Annie’s connection is to the family.”
“Friend,” Trent murmured, studying her across the room. “Annie’s a friend.”
“Then I suppose that’s all I need to know. So, how are you, Trent? I hear you’ve been doing some fairly demanding carpentry work.”
Which meant the family had been talking about him. It wasn’t surprising, actually. They all kept tabs on each other, primarily through Bobbie. But it still bothered him. “I’m fine,” he said, trying not to speak too curtly.
“You’re thinking of starting a carpentry business?”
“Considering it.”
“I’ve always said you did beautiful work. I remember when you were a kid you were fascinated watching your mother’s brother Phil work with wood. You got all his tools when he retired to Florida a couple of years ago, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. He sold me his whole shop for practically nothing. His daughter wasn’t interested in any of it, and he knew I was the only one of his nephews who had any affinity for woodworking, so he wanted me to have his tools. I’ve set up a room in the outbuilding beside the little house I bought last year and I’ve been building some things in there. I’m getting quite a few requests lately for custom-designed items, so I think I can make a living at it eventually.”
“But what about the lifting and bending involved? Will you be able to handle it?”
This was the older cousin who had taught him to ride a bicycle, he reminded himself. Lucas’s questions were motivated purely by familial concern. There was no reason for Trent to take offense—and yet it galled him when anyone reminded him that he wasn’t in the prime physical condition he had once taken so much for granted. “I’ll hire help for anything I can’t handle myself.”
Lucas nodded. “That’s always been my business philosophy. Good luck—and let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”
Trent merely nodded and shifted to a more comfortable position on the hard sofa.