rooster I’ve ever seen. I hate to part with him.”
The kitchen doors opened and Chase’s parents entered, headed their way with his chef dad carrying a covered roasting dish.
“What’s this?” Landry’s hand went to her chest. “I thought we were having buffet along with our guests.”
“We always try our new dishes out on family.” Chase’s dad, Elliot, took the lid off with a flourish to reveal a large Thanksgiving-worthy turkey.
“Brock, I’m so glad you’re back.” Chase’s mom, Janice, squeezed his shoulders. “We always thought the world of you. And your folks.”
“Thanks. It’s good to be back.” There were so many mixed emotions on his face Devree wasn’t sure she could keep up. A frown marred his brow, and she could tell his smile was forced. But his pale green eyes shone with happy memories. He seemed genuinely glad to be here, but jumpy as if he expected Becca to pounce on him at any minute.
“We’ll leave you to your meal. I’ll need honest opinions.” Elliot wiped his hands on his apron, headed back to the kitchen, Janice trailing him.
“What were we talking about?” Landry frowned.
“Rusty.” Chase picked up the large carving knife and fork, started to work on the bird. “I’ve already taken care of it. He won’t bother anyone else around here.”
Devree’s gaze dropped to the bird as Chase made a deep slice across the breast. On it’s back, all fours in the air. Why would Elliot try a new turkey recipe so far away from Thanksgiving? Or was it Rusty? Her eyes widened.
As Chase doled out slabs of meat, her appetite fled.
“Give me your plate, Devree.” Chase held a large slice of meat between the carving set.
Mute, she shook her head.
“Are you okay? You look rather pale.” Landry touched her hand.
“I can’t eat him.” Her vision clouded. He may have been mean, but she hadn’t wanted him to die.
“Who?”
“I can’t eat a rooster I knew by name.”
Chase guffawed. “I can assure you, this isn’t Rusty. It’s turkey.”
Her eyes met his. “You promise?”
“It’s turkey.” Landry squeezed her hand. “Rusty may be ornery, but he’s much too pretty to eat. What did you do with him, Chase?”
“I gave him to the Whitlows. He’s alive and well and far enough away you’ll be able to sleep in tomorrow morning.”
A relieved sigh whooshed out of her.
“Can I have your plate now?” Chase grinned.
She lifted her plate to accept the slice of meat as he lost his struggle with laughter. Again, at her expense. But she joined him. Soon Landry and Brock did too.
Appetite returned, she bowed her head as Chase prayed over the meal. Amens rounded the table and she muttered hers.
“The vegetables are on the buffet.” Chase picked up his and Landry’s plates, headed that way.
Devree caught Brock’s gaze as she stood. She saw something different in his eyes—respect maybe?
Whatever it was made her pulse kick up a notch.
* * *
Dread weighed heavy on Brock’s shoulders as he folded his napkin, set it by his plate. At least Chase and Landry hadn’t harangued him about his mom during the meal. Or invited her to join them.
Though he’d have been more at ease if they hadn’t included Devree. He couldn’t seem to escape her presence and she always did a number on his peace of mind.
It was nice to see Chase’s parents again. They’d always been such nice and welcoming folks. And the meal was mouthwatering. He thought of the moment Devree was sure the turkey was Rusty and almost lapsed into another bout of stomach-cramping laughter. How could a woman be so empathetic she didn’t want to eat a rooster who’d tried to impale her?
“I don’t mean to rush, but I need to get this lady back to her couch.” Chase rose to his feet.
“Don’t mind me.” Brock picked up his hat, scooted his chair out. “That was the best meal I’ve had in some time. Is it always buffet here?”
“It depends on how many guests we have. When we’re heavily booked, buffet is easier. I sure miss the kitchen.” Landry stared longingly at the doors. “Your parents could probably use my help.”
“They’re fine.” Chase scooped her up.
A few guests smiled; no one seemed to think it odd to see a pregnant woman carried out.
“I’ll break your back.” Landry giggled as Chase walked toward the foyer with her cradled in his arms. “Hey, Brock, don’t run off. Join us in the great room.”
He’d have loved to come up with an excuse. He was afraid, despite their deal, they’d bring up his mother. For that matter, if he went back to his bunk, he could avoid running into her. But he worked for the Donovans. He couldn’t really refuse their offer.
“Sure. I’ll get the door.” Brock opened the double doors into the lobby. Chase carried his wife through.
As Devree trailed them, she glanced back at Brock. Her rich blue dress matched her eyes, caused his breath to stutter.
Landry smacked Chase in the chest. “If I could eat laying down, you’d make me, wouldn’t you?”
“Whatever it takes.” The seriousness in his tone silenced her protests.
She patted her stomach. “We’re fine. Don’t worry.”
He set her down—oh, so gently—on the couch. The care and love in his eyes reminded Brock of just what was at stake. Making the situation with his mother seem trivial.
“Happy Trails” started up, Chase’s ringtone. He dug his phone from his pocket, sighed and turned it off.
“Who was it?”
“That real estate developer. You’d think as many times as I’ve rejected his call, he’d realize he’s barking up the wrong tree. This place has been in my family for decades.” Chase took his place at the end of the couch with Landry’s feet in his lap. “How’s the fishing cabin coming?”
Despite Chase’s attempt to change the subject, Brock’s brain was stuck on the real estate developer. Took him back to his days of hounding landowners during his short-lived and ill-fated business partnership.
“It’s overrun with mice.” Devree clamped a hand to her mouth, cut her gaze to Landry. “But we’re handling it.”
“I won’t faint.” Landry rolled her eyes. “I can handle the truth. I just don’t understand where they’re coming from. It’s like somebody’s trucking them in or something.”
Devree’s gaze met Brock’s.
“I caulked all the plumbing, around the windows and doors, and underneath the baseboards and trim. With it airtight, we’ll conquer them.” And changed the locks so Ball-Cap couldn’t bring in more. “We got the old furniture out today. That should help.”
“I’m so glad you’re here.” Landry plumped her pillow. “I have to admit, I was getting worried.”
“We’ll have the cabin ready. I promise.” Devree sat down in a cowhide wingback chair. “I got the curtains and bedspread today and the furniture will be here next week. I got some wall decor for the chapel too.” Her focus went to the coffee table.
Brock settled in the matching chair and followed her gaze to an architectural magazine with a picture of him on