"It wouldn't be the first time." He smiled like an unrepentant sinner, and she felt herself relax a little. "Or even the second. I guess old habits die hard." He took a drink and watched her over his glass.
She felt the corners of her mouth tilt up despite her best effort not to smile at him. "You should be ashamed of yourself," she said and took a sip of her wine.
He lowered his glass. "I'll bet you've told a whopper or two."
"Sure." She folded her arms beneath her breasts and swirled the wine in her glass. "I used to tell huge lies all the time. My dad was in the military, and we moved around a lot. When you go to a new school every few years, you can make up your past. You can be anybody you want."
"Who did you say you were?"
"Mostly head cheerleaders and class presidents. Once I said I was a prima ballerina."
He shoved a hip into the counter and stuck his free hand in his front pocket. "How did that work for you?"
"It didn't. No one ever believed it. I have three older brothers, and I was a tomboy. Plus, I was a complete klutz."
"I bet you were a cute klutz." His gaze slid from her eyes to her mouth, then moved up to the top of her head. "I bet with that red hair, the boys loved you."
He had to be joking. "Believe me, no one liked my red hair. Plus, I was taller than most boys my age. I had braces and I beat most of them at basketball. I could have let them win, but I'm fairly competitive and don't like to lose."
He chuckled. "Yes, I know that about you."
"Not only did I beat the boys, if I had a crush on one, I slugged him really hard. Believe me, no one ever asked me out."
"I bet they're kicking themselves in the ass now."
She looked into his face. Thin smile lines creased the corners of his green eyes, but he didn't look like he was joking. For some reason, that made the old unattractive gangly girl part of her heart pinch just a little. It was an uncomfortable and confusing feeling, and she raised her wine to her lips. She didn't want to feel anything for Rob. Nothing but a big empty blank. "I wouldn't know," she said before she took a drink.
Grace and her grandfather entered the kitchen, and Kate got busy helping Grace with the rib roast and baked potatoes. Rob dressed a salad with Italian vinaigrette and placed it in four bowls.
"What can I do to help?" her grandfather asked.
"You can place Kate's hors d'oeuvre plate on the table," Grace answered. "I would hate to see it go to waste."
Five minutes later, the food was on their plates and they were all seated at a pedestal table set with white damask and bone china. Kate sat between Grace and Rob, with her
grandfather across from her.
"This is all mighty fancy, Grace," Stanley said as he picked up his linen napkin and placed it in his lap. His shoulders looked stiff, like he was afraid to breathe.
Grace smiled. "I don't ever get to use my good stuff. It just sits in the hutch year in and year out. Let's mess it up." She shook out her napkin.
Rob picked up his fork and speared a stuffed mushroom from the hors d'oeuvre plate in the center of the table.
"Rob," his mother said, "could you say the blessing, please?"
He looked up and stared at her, as if she'd just asked him to stand on his head and speak French. "You want me to pray?" He set his fork down. "Right now?"
Grace's smile stayed in place while she gave him a hard stare. "Of course, dear."
Rob bowed his head, and his brows came together to form a thick line. Kate half expected him to say something like, "Good food, good meat, good God, let's eat."
He didn't. "God, please bless this food we're about to eat." He paused a moment then added, "So that we don't get sick or… choke or something. Amen."
"Amen." Kate pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.
"Amen."
"Amen. Thank you, Rob."