all under control, dear.’ Jean picked up a platter of fried chicken. ‘You could bring those salads through.’
Cassie seized the bowls and followed Jean into the dining room to find the rest of the family already assembled. With a smile she relaxed into them. The Parkers—the family Brian had given her. And Thursday night was family night, when they all gathered here at Jack and Jean’s.
She loved them with a fierceness born of desperation. The desperation of someone who’d never had a family or known family life until they’d hugged her to their collective bosom with a warmth that had taken her breath away.
It still did, really.
She slipped into her seat beside Tracey, Brian’s younger sister, and across from Fran, his older one. Fran’s husband Claude beamed with good health and good cheer beside Fran. Cassie figured he had a lot to be cheerful about. She averted her eyes from the bulge burgeoning under Fran’s dress, tried to dispel the ache that gripped her.
From the corner of her eye she watched Jack as he said grace. He looked tired too. Neither he nor Jean had slept well since Brian’s death. Cassie smothered a sigh. It had been nearly eighteen months. She’d hoped…
Hoped what? Brian had been their golden boy—the whole town’s golden boy. The rugby genius who’d played for Australia and put the town of Schofield on the map. Some things you just didn’t get over, ever. And for Jean and Jack she had a feeling Brian’s death was one of them.
Maybe if she’d produced that much-wanted grandchild…She smothered another sigh and thrust the thought away, averting her eyes from Fran’s tummy as best she could.
‘How is your work going, Cassandra?’
She shot Jack a smile. ‘Fabulous.’ She knew how proud they all were of her community work. But then, they were a community-minded family. It was one of the reasons the town had rallied around so much when Brian had died. ‘Maisie’s twin nieces showed up the day before yesterday.’
‘Ooh, how are they?’ Jean cut in, always interested to hear news of youngsters who no longer lived in Schofield.
‘Great. You’ll never guess what they’ve done.’ She handed the potato salad across to Claude. ‘They’ve packed her a suitcase and whisked her off on a cruise for Christmas.’
‘How lovely.’ Jean clasped her hands together. ‘They always were nice girls, and so was their mother. It was a real tragedy, her dying so young.’
Silence enveloped them. As it always did when death was mentioned. She could almost see the image of Brian sweep across the table.
Tracey cleared her throat. ‘You and Dad should go on a cruise, Mum.’
‘Oh, no, dear, we couldn’t.’
‘Why not?’ Tracey persisted.
‘Well, now…I mean…’
‘Your mother means our life is here.’
Cassie gulped as Jack glared at his youngest daughter. ‘Guess who I saw today?’ she jumped in, before Tracey could argue her point further. ‘You’ll never guess, so I’ll have to tell you.’ She accepted a bread roll from the basket Jean held out to her. She smiled around the table. ‘Sol Adams.’
Tracey and Jack stopped glaring at each other to gape at her. Jean dropped the basket of bread rolls.
‘Sol Adams?’ Fran frowned, as if trying to place him.
‘Yes—you remember,’ Tracey leaned forward, excitement shooting from her in all directions. ‘He was in Cassie and Brian’s year. Seriously hunky.’ She turned to Cassie. ‘Have you actually seen him?’
‘Sure.’ She helped Jean pick up the scattered bread rolls. ‘He’s staying with Alec.’
‘Omigod, all the girls in my year had serious crushes on him.’
Cassie’s eyebrows shot up towards her hairline. ‘Really?’
Tracey rolled her eyes. ‘All the girls in your year just couldn’t see past Brian, but we knew better.’
‘Tracey Phyllis Parker!’ Jean looked as if she were about to cry. ‘How on earth can you say such a thing? And with Cassie sitting here and all.’
Tracey glanced at Cassie, stricken. ‘I’m sorry, Cassie. I didn’t—’
‘Relax, Mum. Cassie’s fine—aren’t you?’ Fran’s even tones broke over them and Cassie nodded gratefully. ‘No sister is going to find her brother a hunk. Not even the sisters of the legendary Brian Parker.’
‘Yes, well, I suppose you’re right,’ Jean sighed. ‘But even so.’
‘Even so what?’ Fran teased.
‘Even so, we know that Sol Adams isn’t half the man Brian was. Isn’t that so, Cassandra?’
A band tightened around Cassie’s chest, trying to suffocate her.
‘Nonsense,’ Tracey scoffed.
‘Isn’t that so, Cassandra?’ Jack persisted.
Cassie forced a smile. ‘I married Brian, so that makes me biased.’ Though maybe not in the way Jack thought. ‘Sol didn’t have things easy.’ Not like Brian. The words hung in the air unsaid. She bit her lip. ‘He was always nice to me. We were neighbours.’ She shrugged. ‘We were friends.’ She could tell Jack didn’t like her words.
‘So what did he have to say? What did you talk about? Has he changed?’
Tracey’s gunfire questions made Cassie laugh. ‘It’s been ten years. Sure he’s changed. We all have.’
‘You’ve got prettier.’ Tracey said the words as a statement of fact. ‘Is Sol hunkier?’
Is he what? But she couldn’t tell them that! ‘I, uh, I don’t know.’ Jack shot Tracey a triumphant glare, and Cassie couldn’t help herself. ‘He’s filled out…grown into all that height. Remember how he used to be kind of gangly and lanky?’ Tracey nodded eagerly. ‘Well, he’s not any more.’
Jack concentrated on the plate of food in front of him and Jean’s gaze darted from Cassie to Tracey and back again. Remorse stabbed her. She shouldn’t have said anything.
‘What did you talk about?’
She wished to heaven she hadn’t mentioned Sol Adams now. She seized another drumstick, even though she hadn’t touched her first. ‘We chatted about Alec, mostly.’
‘And?’
And his hand on mine felt fabulous. But she had no intention of telling anyone that either. ‘And…’ She floundered for a moment. ‘And he’s babysitting my kittens.’
‘He is?’ Tracey blinked. ‘Sol is a cat person?’
That made Cassie grin. ‘No, I don’t think he is. He looked as if he’d sucked a lemon when I asked him.’ She could tell he wasn’t a cat person, but he’d still said yes. The thought warmed her.
Jack smirked. ‘I can’t say I blame him.’
Jack wasn’t a cat person. He wasn’t really a dog person either. He was a hunting and fishing kind of person.
Jean leaned across the table. ‘We should’ve let Cassie keep those kittens here.’
‘Nonsense,’ he chuckled, suddenly smug. ‘Sol Adams can look after them. It serves him right.’
For what? Why didn’t Jack like Sol? She bit back a sigh. Maybe it was another reminder that a person from his son’s generation was alive when his son was not.
‘Can you set me up with him?’ Tracey suddenly demanded.
Cassie choked on fried chicken. ‘What?’