A Weaver Proposal. Allison Leigh
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“No worries.” Tabby waved an unconcerned hand and without losing Derek’s arm, pulled open the enormous front door with obvious familiarity. “When there’s a crowd around here for Sunday dinner it always takes a bit of doing to get the meal on the table, anyway. And can I just say that I love those boots of yours? I hope you’ve treated the suede for getting wet, though.”
Over the girl’s head, Sydney’s gaze ran into Derek’s and she cursed herself for being caught looking his way.
“Wouldn’t worry about the boots, Tab,” he said as they headed inside. “Sydney’s an honest-to-God heiress, remember? If she wanted to pretend they’re disposable after one wearing, she could.”
Tabby looked up at him, grabbed his face in her hand and planted a kiss on his lips. “Funny guy, aren’t you?” Then she gave his cheek a playful slap.
“Deathly,” Sydney murmured, watching the girl move off. Tabby could think her boyfriend was joking, but Sydney knew he wasn’t. She wasn’t dressed appropriately for the weather any more than her car was suited to it.
In his eyes it was obviously just one more strike against her.
She wondered what he’d think if he knew that his strikes were small potatoes in comparison to the ones she’d had leveled at her since childhood. But then again, she’d rather he didn’t know. Thinking she was a snob was much better than knowing what she really was.
A pregnant, rejected fool who’d never accomplished anything on her own.
Fortunately, her arrival had been noticed, not just by Maggie Clay, the woman who’d invited her, but by countless others who quickly surrounded her. Maggie, who was just as blonde as her daughter, J.D., grabbed Sydney’s hand as if she were five and began introducing everyone even as she took Sydney’s coat and thrust it at Derek with instructions to hang it up.
As Sydney struggled to keep up with the introductions—some familiar and some not—a part of her couldn’t help wondering if she’d find her coat later hanging from some tree outside when he disappeared with it.
“Oh, my goodness, what a fabulous dress! Is it actually leather?” The petite brunette, whom Maggie had just introduced as Tara, was definitely not one of the individuals that Sydney recalled from Susan and Stan’s wedding. The other woman barely waited for Sydney’s nod before she continued gushing. “If I could get some items like that for the shop, I’d sell them out in a heartbeat no matter what price tag I put on them.” She grinned ruefully as she ran her hand over the noticeably pregnant bulge stretching out the front of her cherry-red sweater. “Not that I’m likely to ever be able to wear anything cut so narrowly again.”
Sydney could have laughed—or cried—at the irony.
“Tara owns Classic Charms down on Main Street,” Maggie explained. “She has the most wonderfully eclectic collection. Everything from furniture to clothing.”
Tara shrugged dismissively. “Not everything. But I do like to have some unusual items, and that dress would definitely be one. Vintage?”
Again, Sydney nodded. She glanced down at the caramel-colored leather dress that draped from her shoulders to just above her knees. “I found it in a secondhand shop in Paris a few years ago.” She loved it and was determined to wear it as long as she could. “But I can see that I am overdressed,” she admitted. Nearly everyone there was dressed in jeans and sweaters.
“You think?” A deep voice murmured from behind her and she didn’t have to look back to know it was Derek. She’d recognize his voice anywhere now.
She ignored him and looked at Maggie beside her. “I think I should have taken notes with the introductions,” she admitted. “I’m not sure I’ll keep everyone straight.”
Maggie laughed and squeezed Sydney’s hand. “Unless you’ve been born into the group, we’ve all thought the same thing at one time or another. We’re an overwhelming bunch. But you’ll get used to it.”
“If she’s here long enough,” Derek added. His tone didn’t imply it, but Sydney didn’t have to guess very hard to know that he was hoping she wouldn’t be.
“Actually, I plan to be here a long, long while.” Smiling a confident smile she didn’t feel at all, she directed her comment toward the friendly Maggie.
“I know how much Jake and J.D. are hoping so,” the older woman returned comfortably.
“How’s that furnace holding out?”
“Just fine,” she lied, finally looking Derek’s way. Instead of the nubile Tabby under his arm, he was now holding a wildly giggling dark-haired imp upside down.
Her stomach took a dangerous dive and she quickly looked away. She wasn’t sure if it was the baby-related nausea or the sight of that odious man looking so perfectly natural jiggling around an obviously delighted toddler.
“Derek told us you had a little problem with it.” Maggie drew Sydney farther along the scarred wood floors. “He’s a whiz at fixing everything. Always helps out when he’s able. He’s wonderful that way.”
Sydney managed not to choke.
They’d reached a long dining room that was dominated by the china-and-crystal-laden table that took center stage. Three-fourths of the chairs around it were being claimed by the people who had already greeted Sydney, and Maggie led her to two on the side near the head of the table. “Come and sit here beside me. You can tell me how you’re settling in at J.D. and Jake’s cabin.” She pulled out one chair and took the other.
“It’s going fine. I’m just not sure what I’m going to do with myself now that I’ve finished unpacking,” she admitted a little ruefully. She sat where directed and waved off the wine that Maggie offered in favor of water and turned to smile at the blond-haired teenage boy sitting on her other side, who was not very discreetly throwing wadded bits of his paper napkin at the girl sitting directly across from him.
He dropped his hands guiltily to his lap, though, when Sydney sat and almost did a double take as he gave her a lopsided grin. “Hey. I’m Eli.”
“Yeah, Eli. Stop drooling over the lady and move it. You’re in my seat,” Derek said behind them. He set a long-necked bottle of beer next to the empty wine glass near his plate and jerked his thumb.
Sydney’s stomach sank as the lanky boy slid out of the chair and moved to the other side of the table. “Nobody wants to sit next to their sister,” he complained, giving the target of his napkin wads a little shove before slouching into the chair next to her.
“Nearly everyone at this table is a sister or brother of someone,” Maggie said without heat.
“And if not that, then cousins,” Derek added as he took the vacated seat.
Sydney ignored him. She noticed that Tabby was sitting on the other side of the table, several seats down from Derek, between Tara on one side and a toffee-haired young man on the other. Maggie had mentioned his name. Jared. Justin. Something like that. But he was Maggie’s nephew, that she was certain of. And the young man was graced with the unfair quantity of “wow” genes that all of the Clays seemed to possess.
Maggie was nodding toward the empty seats at the end of the table. “It’s too bad that Gloria and Squire are gone right now.” Her hand had come to rest over the bronzed hand of her husband, sitting on her other side and now, she patted it. “Daniel’s father. I know you met at your aunt’s wedding. I’m sure they’re looking forward to seeing you again.”
They hadn’t had time to speak much at the wedding since Sydney had only been there for a matter of hours, but she did remember the iron-haired man who was the patriarch of this large, rambunctious family and his wife. “Jake mentioned they were away for a few weeks?”
“Yeah, Squire doesn’t like the cold winters so much anymore,” added another man as he entered and took the chair