The Dating Arrangement Page 6

  He covered her hands with one of his and squeezed. “Em, I’m not nervous. We’re just having dinner with your family.” He turned off the truck and looked back at her. “Is it okay for me to call you Em?”

  She smiled. “My sister and my best friend call me Em. Maybe we should have cute nicknames for each other. What do you think, schmoopie?”

  He stifled an eye roll. “You know, I’m okay with Jack.”

  She laughed. “You got it, cupcake.” Her smile faded, and she pressed a hand to her stomach. “Why am I so anxious?”

  “I’m really not sure, honey bear.” He was glad to see her lips twitch at that. “We have a solid and semi-true story. You were hired to help me with some events at the bar. We quickly got together. If we get into any trouble, we fall back on the fact that we haven’t known each other all that long.”

  “Well, that part is true enough.” She glanced at the house. “Okay, let’s do this.”

  Jack grabbed her hand as they got out of the car and walked toward the door. As soon as their fingers intertwined, he felt that thing again. That electric buzzing that seemed to surface any time he touched her. But he had no time to dwell on it, because the front door opened and a tall man with dark hair that was graying at the temples appeared. He pinned Jack with an overtly assessing stare. But then his gaze fell on Emerson, and a warm and adoring smile broke out on his otherwise serious face.

  “Hi, sweetheart.” His arms opened, and Emerson walked into them.

  “Hi, Daddy.” She leaned back and put her hands on his chest, tapping her fingers against the golf shirt that Jack knew was one of the more expensive brands. “You look nice.”

  “Thank you. Your mother wanted me to stay in my suit.”

  He rolled his eyes and Jack realized he had the same eyes—and same eye roll—as his daughter.

  “I wear a suit to the office all week. Why would I want to wear one for dinner in my own home?”

  “Daddy’s a lawyer,” Emerson explained. Then she made the introductions. “This is Jack Wright. Jack, my father, Walter Dewitt.”

  “Sir,” he said and shook the man’s hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Jack. Come on in. Your mother has been fussing over everything since you told her about Jack a couple of days ago. But don’t tell her I said that.” He winked, and Emerson grinned.

  Jack stepped into an impressive foyer, complete with a grand staircase that wound its way up both sides of the room, to the second floor. A large crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling. He noticed a very formal living room to one side and a dining room that probably seated at least twenty on the other. While his dad’s house was more about comfort, Emerson’s family home appeared to be for show.

  “Your house is really nice,” he said.

  Mr. Dewitt looked around and shrugged. “It’s all Beatrice’s doing. To be honest, I’d prefer a nice little cabin on a lake. Somewhere I could fish all day and relax on a rocking chair at night.”

  His preference surprised Jack.

  “I’ve been married for thirty years. The best advice I can give you is to agree. The key to a happy marriage is appeasing the Mrs.”

  “I’ll remember that,” Jack said, amused.

  “I’m going to find Mama. Daddy, you’re in charge of Jack. Make sure he doesn’t get lost,” Emerson said and then disappeared around the corner.

  Mr. Dewitt turned to Jack. “Do you fish, son?”

  “I do. I haven’t been in a while, which is a shame. I spent some time up in Canada a couple of years ago. Did a lot of ice fishing.”

  Mr. Dewitt raised his brow. “No kidding. I’d like to hear more about that.”

  “Daddy,” a woman’s voice bellowed from one of the back rooms. “Bring Jack in here so I can meet him.”

  “Amelia, stop screaming in the house,” another female voice said.

  “Speaking of the Mrs.,” Mr. Dewitt said with a smile. “I think it’s time for your inquisition. Are you ready?”

  Honestly, the grand foyer threw him off a bit. But he was here for Emerson and he was determined to remain level-headed and calm. “I feel pretty confident.”

  Mr. Dewitt slapped him on the back. “Good for you.” He stopped walking before they could turn the same corner Emerson had rounded. “Before we go back, I just want to say that it’s great to see Emerson dating again. After what happened last year, I’ve been worried about her.”

  Jack paused. What happened last year? Something fairly serious, if the lines in Mr. Dewitt’s face had anything to say about it. He’d have to ask Emerson later.

  “Uh, yeah.” He treaded lightly.

  “Nice to have that twinkle back in her eyes.”

  “Right. Last year was, well...”

  “Exactly,” Walter nodded before a shadow fell over his face. “If I ever see that little pri—”

  “Walt,” a female voice called.

  “Coming.” Walter’s features returned to normal and Jack followed him into the kitchen.

  “Smells amazing,” Jack said. The distinctive aroma of chicken, veggies and buttery biscuits wafted from the large stovetop and stainless-steel oven.

  “Thank you.”

  Turning, Jack found himself face-to-face with Beatrice Dewitt. The woman was stunning. She had the same color of hair as Emerson, but hers was pulled back into some kind of twist. She wore a frilly pink-and-white apron over khaki slacks and a crisp white blouse. Despite the casual clothing, everything about her was completely together and pristine. From her manicured nails to her impeccable makeup. But most noticeable was the confidence and self-assurance in the way she carried herself. There was no denying that she was the one in charge in this house.

  “For you.” Jack offered the bouquet of flowers he’d brought.

  “How nice,” another woman with auburn hair said. “I’m Amelia, Emerson’s sister.” They shook hands. “Meet my husband, Charlie.” She gestured to the man in the corner, who was preoccupied with his cell phone. “Babe, come meet Em’s new boyfriend.”

  Charlie nodded toward Jack in greeting.

  “Babe, get off the phone,” Amelia said, with her cheeks blushing red. She turned to Jack but didn’t meet his eyes. “Charlie works so hard. It’s tough to get him to take a break.”

  “It’s good to have a husband who works hard to provide for his family.” Mrs. Dewitt said before she turned her trained eye on Jack. “Speaking of work...”

  “Mama, give the man a second to catch his breath before we start with that.”

  “I simply want to get to know this man who has appeared out of nowhere, into your life. Is that so wrong? We had all known Charlie for years before he started dating Amelia. They had a proper courting.”

  “Mama, no one says courting in the twenty-first century,” Amelia said, with a final glance at her husband, who’d retreated even farther into the shadows.

  “Jack, can I get you a drink?” Mr. Dewitt asked.

  “Sure, thanks.”

  “I’ll have a beer,” Emerson said.

  An annoyed sound escaped Mrs. Dewitt. “We don’t have any beer. Walt, get her the same wine Amelia is drinking.”

  “I don’t want—”

  “How about a tour?” Jack said suddenly, cutting Emerson off. Emerson shot him a grateful smile.

  “Babe,” Amelia said. “Babe,” she repeated louder.

  “Leave him,” Emerson said and grabbed her sister’s hand. “We don’t need Charlie to show Jack around. Come on, everyone. The tour leaves from the kitchen. Keep your hands and feet inside the train. No photography please.”

  “Unless you’re from Southern Living,” Amelia whispered, and Emerson laughed.

  As Emerson and her sister gave Jack a tour of the sprawling house, he came to a few conclusions. The first was that he wouldn’t be surprised if he did see this house on the pages of
Southern Living. Each room was practically photo-shoot ready. Pillows were fluffed, tables were polished and vases were overflowing with flowers.

  The second thing he noticed about the Dewitt home was that it was clear Amelia had grown up here. He noticed pictures, trophies and other memorabilia. What he did not see was the same attention for Emerson.

  They walked into a family room, toward the back of the house. Despite the size of the place, Jack had been feeling somewhat claustrophobic. This was the first room that actually made him feel welcomed. There were also more personal items here.

  He stepped up to a large shelf that held trinkets and framed pictures. Jack took in a photo with a little redhead wearing a tiara and holding a huge bouquet of roses. He chuckled. “Who’s this? You?” he asked Emerson.

  “No, that’s me,” Amelia said.

  “Amelia used to do pageants.” Emerson peered at the photo closer. “She was about five in that one.”

  “Did you do pageants too?” he asked, putting the frame down. “Were you Little Miss Alexandria?”

  Amelia let out a very unladylike snort.

  “Thanks for that,” Emerson said, elbowing her sister. “I tried. And by ‘I tried,’ I mean Mama had me entered in pageants before I could even eat solid food. But it became clear pretty fast that runways and posing wasn’t really my thing.”

  “How come?”

  “Let’s just say I wasn’t quite as graceful as my sister.”

  Amelia put an arm around her sister. “She fell off a stage, right onto the judges’ table. Mama was horrified.”

  “Thank God she had a second daughter.”

  The two sisters were laughing, but Jack sensed something sad underneath the jokes. He eyed another photo of a cheerleader waving pompoms over her head. “Amelia again?” he asked.

  “Yep, I cheered all through middle and high school.”

  Jack quirked an eyebrow at Emerson.

  “Nope,” she said. “I tried out a couple of times. But I never made the squad.” She smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. After turning back to the shelf, she tapped another frame. “And this is Amelia being crowned homecoming queen.”

  Jack thought he was getting the lay of the land. “Amelia, what do you do now?”

  “I work in Mama’s store.”

  Aha. So Amelia, the pageant-winning, cheerleading homecoming queen, worked with her mother, while Emerson, the non-poised, pom-pom-less black sheep, had started her own business. Interesting.

  Jack grabbed another frame and studied it. He couldn’t contain the smile. Emerson’s perfume alerted him to her nearness before he realized she was peering around his shoulder.

  “Ugh, don’t look at that.” She snatched the photo away. “I look so ugly in that one.”

  Amelia reached for the picture. “No, you don’t. You’re so hard on yourself, Em.” She returned the photo and took another. “This is my favorite picture of Em.” She thrust it at Jack.

  Jack saw the two sisters. Emerson was wearing a cap and gown, and Amelia had on a flowered dress. Emerson was sticking her tongue out, while Amelia was making a funny face at the camera.

  “Your college graduation was so much fun. Remember the party?”

  Emerson giggled. “After we dropped off Mama and Daddy at the hotel and claimed we were going to bed.”

  They both made a weird noise at the exact same time and then did a little dance, clearly reminiscing about some shared memory.

  Jack could tell they really loved each other. Beatrice and Walter Dewitt were incredibly lucky their two daughters got along. Jealousy could have easily pervaded their relationship.

  “Jack. Girls. Dinner is ready,” Mr. Dewitt said from the doorway.

  Jack followed everyone into the formal dining room. His mouth watered at the sight of chicken and dumplings, although he had to admit he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten in a formal dining room, with candles and flowers.

  “Jack, want to help me pick some music?” Mr. Dewitt asked.

  Jack walked over to the side of the room, where he was surprised to find a record player and a shelf filled with vinyl records. He perused the collection. “Now, this is impressive.”

  He clapped Jack on the back jovially. “Some people think my selection is old.”

  “Nothing wrong with oldies,” Emerson said before she and her sister started doing a little dance as Amelia sang “Here Comes the Sun.”

  “No respect for the best music of all time,” Mr. Dewitt said. But he was smiling as he watched his girls joking. “I’m telling you, this was music. I can’t even categorize what you people listen to now.”

  Jack and Mr. Dewitt went through the records, while Mrs. Dewitt and her daughters brought the food in. Jack loved seeing the album covers from the Beatles, The Mamas & the Papas, and other groups from the sixties and seventies. They ended up choosing an album of Chicago’s music.

  “Amelia, where’s Charlie?” Mrs. Dewitt asked.

  “Oh he said he needed to make one more call. We should go ahead and start though.”

  Mr. Dewitt said grace and they all dug in. The food was delicious, the wine was amazing and the conversation flowed. Charlie eventually made his way in, but even Jack could tell he wasn’t giving anyone his full attention. Charming guy, he thought.

  “We’re sorry to hear about your father’s passing, Jack,” Mrs. Dewitt offered. “Emerson explained that it happened recently.”

  “Yes, and quite suddenly. Thank you for the condolences.”

  “I understand he left you The Wright Drink. I used to pop in there,” Mr. Dewitt added.

  “When?” Mrs. Dewitt asked, with eyes narrowed.

  “Quite frequently actually. I didn’t know your father well, but he was always kind and a great bartender. The bar is only a couple of blocks from my office. It’s over on Washington.”

  Mrs. Dewitt leaned forward. “And what were you doing before you became the owner of a bar?” She said bar the way some people might say serial killer.

  “A lot of different things actually. I traveled quite a bit after college.”

  Mrs. Dewitt eyed him over the rim of her wineglass, and Jack had the distinct impression that she knew exactly what he’d been doing. Nothing. Floundering as he traveled the world, trying to find himself. Staying away from Alexandria and not helping his father.

  Of course, he wouldn’t say any of that. “The last place I lived was Tahoe. I was working for one of the casinos. I was a floor manager.”

  Apparently this career didn’t please Mrs. Dewitt. She remained still.

  But Amelia popped up. “I adore Tahoe. What a fantastic place.”

  “You’ve been?” Jack asked.

  She nodded. “A couple of times actually. I’ve competed in several pageants on the West Coast.”

  Finally, Mrs. Dewitt smiled. “Amelia was a top competitor on the beauty-pageant circuit. She always placed.”

  Jack didn’t really know what that meant. “And Emerson? What was your thing?”

  “Emerson didn’t really have a thing,” Mrs. Dewitt said.

  “I played soccer,” Emerson said quietly. “And I was a good student.”

  Ignoring her daughter, Mrs. Dewitt continued. “Amelia seemed to get all of the performing talent in the family. She probably could have kept competing too. But she opted for college instead. Of course, you enjoyed your time with your sorority sisters, didn’t you, sweetie?”

  Amelia shifted in her chair. “Um, actually...”

  “Emerson didn’t get into a sorority.”

  “That’s probably because I didn’t even pledge one,” Emerson said quietly. “It wasn’t my thing.”

  “It’s a shame, that’s what it is,” Mrs. Dewitt said. “You could have gotten into any sorority you pledged. You would have made a wonderful Kappa.”

 
Emerson rolled her eyes. “I didn’t want to be a Kappa. Or a member of any other sorority,” she added. “Just like I didn’t want to compete in beauty pageants.”

  “You could have done really well in pageants.” Mrs. Dewitt took a delicate sip of her wine.

  Emerson, her sister and Mr. Dewitt all exchanged glances before breaking out into laughter.

  Mrs. Dewitt tilted her head, and her perfectly straight nose pointed in the air. “So you fell off the stage one time. I would have gotten you a coach. You could have been amazing. With all that curly hair, you would have really stuck out.”

  Emerson scoffed. “I think I would have stuck out because I was about half a foot shorter than most of the other contestants.”

  Mrs. Dewitt considered. “True. Amelia did get all of the height between the two of you.”

  This conversation felt very weighted in Amelia’s direction. Jack felt for Emerson. He wanted to squeeze her hand or, hell, wrap her in a massive hug. But she was seated across the table from him. He’d have to try to save her another way.

  “Emerson’s event-planning business seems to have really taken off,” he said. He noticed that Emerson had her eyes trained on her nearly empty plate. “I can’t believe she put that food truck festival together single-handedly. People are still raving about it. And it’s brought a lot of business to the area.” She gave him a grateful look and he winked at her.

  Mrs. Dewitt waved a hand. “Yes, yes. But why people want to eat food from a truck is beyond me. I prefer a nice crisp salad.”

  “There are food trucks that serve salads, Mama,” Amelia said.

  “Hmm.”

  “Well, I’m still impressed that Em did the whole festival,” Jack said.

  Beatrice picked up her wineglass and twirled it in her hand. “Emerson with her business and Amelia married and getting ready to start a family.”

  Jack practically heard bells and angelic chimes when she said the word married. In his opinion, starting a business was a hell of a lot harder than getting married. And continuing to run it alone was even ballsier.

  Mr. Dewitt raised his glass. “We have two successful daughters.”