Kaye Dacus - Stand-In Groom

The first indication that this “family dinner” was beyond what he’d imagined was the number of cars lining the street in front of the multi-gabled, three-story house Anne had him stop in front of.

“This is Aunt Maggie and Uncle Errol’s house. They bought this house after I went to college, but it’s still home.”

He helped her out of the car, and she led him up the driveway toward the sidewalk that snaked across the yard to the wraparound front porch.

Maggie and Errol. He was about to meet the people who’d stepped in to raise Anne after her parents’ deaths. His heart pumped a little faster. He hoped to make a favorable impression on them. If he was going to spend the rest of his life with her—but no, he couldn’t indulge in that kind of thinking yet. She needed time to get to know him better, and he had to regain her trust.

His thoughts were interrupted when the front door flew open and an older woman—who bore a remarkable resemblance to Anne— stepped out onto the porch.

“It’s about time,” the woman called as George and Anne approached the house.

“What are you talking about?” Anne looked at her watch. “It’s only twelve forty-five. We never eat dinner before one.”

“You’re thirty-five years old. It’s about time you brought a man home for Sunday dinner!”

Just when she’d thought her family couldn’t possibly embarrass her any further…

Anne stepped up onto the porch and bent forward to accept Aunt Maggie’s kiss on her cheek. “Good afternoon to you, too, Mags.” She turned. “George, this is my aunt, Maggie Babineaux. She’s the vendor I suggested to you for the wedding cake.”

He nodded, brown eyes twinkling as he took Maggie’s hand and lifted it to his lips. “The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Babineaux. I’ve heard much about you from Anne.”

Maggie regarded him with calculation in her gaze. “I wish I could say I’ve heard more than rumors about you, George Laurence.” With a wink at Anne, she took hold of his arm and directed him into the house. “But we’ll remedy that today, won’t we?”

Anne shrugged and wrinkled her nose in an apologetic grin when George glanced at her over his shoulder. She nearly laughed at the expression of trepidation in his eyes. He’d never experienced anything like a large Cajun family gathered for Sunday dinner. This afternoon would be a trial by fire of his professed feelings for her.

She inhaled deeply as she crossed the threshold into the house. The aroma of roast beef and fresh yeast rolls brought instant images of her childhood to mind. Aunt Maggie and Uncle Errol had bought this house not long after Anne had left for college, but every time she walked in, she was home. Her happy memories from childhood started the day she moved in with Maggie, Errol, and their four sons twenty-seven years ago.

The buzz of voices from the back of the house created a tingle of anticipation in Anne. Would George, mostly estranged from his own relatives, understand the importance of family to her? She grinned. Would he survive her family?

* * *

George refrained from turning to make sure Anne was still behind him as her aunt led him through the large, well-appointed home. The food smelled wonderful, and even though breakfast had been more than satisfying, his stomach rumbled in response to the tantalizing aromas.

Beside him, Maggie Babineaux kept up a constant chatter about the family, trying to tell him the connections of everyone he’d meet today. She lost him after the name of her oldest son, daughter-in-law, and grandchildren.

The front rooms were formally furnished and appeared rarely used. From what he could see, each room had wood floors covered with expensive, probably antique, Oriental rugs. Anne came from money. He shouldn’t be surprised by that, given her education and refinement. He fought disappointment. He’d assumed her background was more like his—enough income in the family to meet their necessities, but not a lot left over for luxuries.

Anne gained his attention with her hand on his arm. “Mamere, I’d like you to meet George Laurence. My grandmother, Lillian Guidry.”

He swallowed his surprise as he took the petite, dark-haired woman’s hand in his. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Guidry.”

“We’re pleased you could join us for lunch, Mr. Laurence.” She turned to Anne, who leaned over to receive a kiss on each cheek. “You look beautiful, Anne Elaine.”

The two women couldn’t be more opposite in appearance—Anne, tall, curvaceous, and blond; her grandmother, petite, thin, and brunette. As he watched them converse, he did notice similarities around their eyes and mouths. Each was beautiful in her own way.

“George!” Forbes clasped his shoulder and shook his hand. “Get out of the kitchen before they put you to work.”

He looked around for Anne.

“Don’t worry, ol’ man. She’ll join us when the aunts finish questioning her about you, which they can do better if you’re not around.” Forbes introduced George to his parents, aunts and uncles, siblings, and cousins as they crossed the crowded family room to a sunny, glass-enclosed porch beyond.

Jason, Rafe, Jennifer, and Meredith stood to greet him. George let out a relieved breath when he sank into the thick cushions of an oversized wicker club chair, glad to be around people he knew.

Meredith perched on the ottoman in front of him and leaned forward, her hands clasped in front of her. Genuine concern gleamed in her gaze. “I assume by the fact that you’re here that you were able to work things out with Anne?”

He shrugged. “Somewhat. We’ve agreed to take things slowly and get to know each other better.”

The ginger-haired woman nodded slowly. “Good.” She stood, then leaned over and pressed her cheek to his. “Because if I ever hear that you’ve lied to her again, you’ll have more than just Anne to answer to.” She kissed his cheek, held his gaze for a long moment, then crossed to sit beside Forbes on a leather love seat.

He held his grin in check. The love Anne’s family displayed pleased him. Like him, they wanted only the best for her. But he could see why she needed a secret getaway.

“By the way, how did you find Anne the other day?” Forbes loosened his tie and stretched his arm across the back of the sofa behind his sister.

“I simply recalled something she’d told me while we were out visiting sites one afternoon.” He returned Forbes’s courtroom stare with a challenge of his own. There was a reason her family hadn’t known where she was, and it wasn’t his right to reveal the location to them.

Before Forbes could interrogate further, two twentysomething women bubbled into the room: a strawberry blonde who turned out to be a younger sister to Forbes, while the other, with brunette hair, belonged to yet another branch of the Guidry family. After being introduced to George, they retreated to a corner to flip through magazines they’d brought and converse in whispers.

After a few minutes, the two young women flittered across the room and dropped something into Forbes’s lap. “I knew you weren’t telling me the truth the other night,” the redhead said.

“Where did you get my high school yearbook?” Forbes reached for the large volume, but the young woman held it out of his grasp.

“From that old trunk of stuff that’s still in Mama and Daddy’s attic. You told me you didn’t know Cliff Ballantine when you were in high school. But how come there’s a picture of the two of you together?”

Forbes’s expression tightened. “Let it go, Marci. We were on student council together. That doesn’t mean we were friends or hung out together.”

“But you knew him.”

George caught sight of Anne from the corner of his eye as a relative waylaid her from entering the sunroom.

Meredith snatched the yearbook from her younger sister. “Marci, please don’t bring up his name again.”

The uncharacteristic vehemence in Meredith’s voice surprised him. What had happened between this family and Cliff Ballantine?

“You know…” Marci sighed and stood, hands on hips. “One of these days I’m going to find out what all the secrets in this family are.” She put her arm around her young brunette cousin. “We’re not children anymore. We deserve to know.”

Forbes took the book from Meredith. “When the people in the family who have those secrets feel like telling you, you’ll know. Until then, try to keep to your own business. That includes not invading my personal property.”

The two young women left in a huff.

Anne stopped them in the doorway. “Marci, Jodi Faye, what’s the matter?”

“Ask Forbes.” Marci’s full lips were set in a pout when she glared over her shoulder at her oldest brother. “He seems to know everything.”

Anne’s fine brows wrinkled into a frown when she entered the room. “What’s going on?”

Forbes held up the school annual and tossed it onto the coffee table in front of him, where it landed with a thud. “They just wanted an ancient history lesson, and I wouldn’t give it to them.”

Her blue eyes widened at the sight of the book. “Oh.” Her shoulders drooped for a moment, then squared; her lips pressed together, then turned up at the corners. “Well, no sense in letting the past spoil the present, right?” Her gaze seemed to search her cousin’s for reassurance.

Forbes nodded. “Right. You survived the aunt gauntlet?”

She blushed, and her eyes turned toward George for a brief moment. “Standard questions—who is he, what does he do, when are you going out again…. You’ve been through it before.”

“And will probably go through it again. That’s why I rescued George and brought him out here, so he didn’t have to witness the mayhem.”

A ringing echoed through the house, like the triangle and clapper that cooks used as a call to dinner in all the old Western movies. The exterior door flew open and children flooded the sunroom from the backyard.

“Dinnertime.” Anne extended her hand to George with a warm smile. “Papere—my grandfather—will say grace, and the children’s plates will be served. Once they’re all situated in the breakfast room, we’ll get our turn.”

He rose and placed his hand in hers—even as two children ran between them. They joined the rest of the family, congregated in the great room and kitchen. The feeling of Anne’s hand in his offset any feelings of discomfort he had from being surrounded by such a crowd of people. It might take him years, but he could probably learn to love attending Guidry family gatherings.

The dining table’s length hindered conversation with anyone other than those immediately surrounding him. With Anne on his left, Forbes on his right, and Meredith, Jason, and Rafe across the table, George found Sunday dinner not much different than the Thursday night suppers he’d attended. And the food… He stopped at two servings of roast beef and mashed potatoes with gravy, green beans, corn, and what Anne said were collard greens. He did take a third yeast roll, however, and followed Forbes’s example of dipping the bread into the gravy that remained on his plate.

Forbes laughed and took the fork out of George’s hand, then put a piece of roll directly between his fingers. “You can’t sop like a Southerner if you’re using your fork and knife.”

George glanced around the table and did see he was the only one not using his hands. “This is called what again?”

On his left, Anne laughed. The sound sent tingles up his spine. “Soppin’. You’re soppin’ up the gravy with your roll.” Her eyes twinkled at him.

“And this is appropriate dinner-table behavior?”

“It is in this family.” Across the table, Meredith held up a piece of roll between her fingers. “You might not want to do it at the Ritz in New York, but you’ll find pert-near everyone in Bonneterre won’t fault you none for soppin’ up your vittles.”

“I’m flabbergasted as to what you just said, but”—he took the piece of roll and sopped up some of the gravy on his plate—“I’ll take your word for it.”

When everyone finished eating, the women, including Anne, rose and cleared the plates from the table. When George started to push his chair back and offer to help, Anne stopped him with the gentle pressure of her hand on his shoulder. “It’s family tradition,” she whispered in his ear. “The women clear the table and bring dessert. The men do the dishes afterward.”

As soon as the women were out of the room, Anne’s grandfather, Bonaventure Guidry, an imposing, tall man, spread his arms to rest his palms on the corners of the table. “Well now, Mr. Laurence, what are your intentions toward our Anne?”