Would I feel differently about Van if I’d meet him under different circumstances?
“Mr. Sherman,” they all acknowledged as they came through the door.
My mother was the first to address me, coming closer and wrapping me in an embrace. “I needed to see you.”
“Here I am.”
For the first time I could recall, I found myself skeptical of her glassy eyes and the sincerity in her voice. I couldn’t explain how they felt orchestrated when they never had before, but nevertheless, that’s the way they felt.
She gripped my shoulders, staring directly into my eyes. “We have so many things to discuss.” She peered over her shoulder at Van and back. “Come with us. These are family matters.”
My gaze met Van’s. It wasn’t a lingering stare or even long enough to enjoy the depth of his emerald orbs with their flickering gold flecks. It was enough to bolster my strength.
I opened the French doors to the house. “You’re here. Come inside, we can talk here—and once we’re married, Van will be family. Skylar on the other hand...” I let the rest go unsaid.
Mom went inside.
Standing my ground as sentry, I waited as Mom’s blue eyes darted from here to there as she took in the surroundings. Van’s home wasn’t as opulently decorated as our home. The limestone structure in Lincoln Park was maintained as if it were a stop on the historical-house tour. It wasn’t. My mother would loathe having strangers enter her home and trample her expensive rugs. Yet the contrast was as obvious as cold versus warm.
Where my childhood home appeared cold and staged to an outsider, it was impossible not to feel the metaphoric warmth of Van’s home, the woodwork, furnishings, and literal warmth of the huge fireplace.
Dad stopped before passing me, reaching for my hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’ve missed you, little girl.”
His familiar address wasn’t upsetting.
Some things went without saying. One day when I was a grandmother, I’d still be my father’s little girl.
I held my breath as the last of the trio passed me. Skylar’s lips appeared glued together in a straight line as he walked past Van and then me, his blue eyes fixed on the room ahead.
Van’s hand came to the small of my back, finding its way between the sweater and tank top beneath. “You’ve got this,” he whispered.
Soon the five of us were in the living room.
“Please, have a seat,” I said, “and I suppose if you plan to stay, you can take off your coats.”
“I’ll take them,” Van offered, gathering the coats and laying them upon a chair closer to the entry.
His choice of location was all the better for them to grab on their way out. The thought made me smile.
Them leaving.
Van and I alone.
“Surely, you have help,” Mom said as she handed Van her coat. “This is too much house for one man.”
Van grinned as he replied. “Thankfully, my lonely daysand nightsare over.”
Mom’s neck straightened.
I’d been too busy watching her to see Dad’s or Skylar’s response.
“Mr. Sherman,” Dad began.
Van again gestured toward the sofas before the fireplace. “Please, as Julia said, sit. It’s Christmas, and I’m sure you have places to be. As you can tell by the delicious aroma in the air, Julia and I have dinner waiting.” He shrugged. “Had we had advance notice, we would have had more food for us all to enjoy.”
So that’s why Van started the meal.
I could live with that.