All or Nothing Read online

  He shook a finger at her. “Avoidance of the truth doesn’t change anything…”

  “Gerry,” Natalie interrupted. “You’re doing it again. Besides, my mother bought an organically raised bird at my insistence.”

  “Yum. I bet it’ll be good,” Jen said.

  “Yes, and we’ll hear about the price of it at some point in the day,” Natalie said with a smile. She shook a finger at Gerry. “And you will not talk about mass food production techniques that result in lower market prices but obscure the true environmental costs. Promise?”

  Gerry settled into his seat, the way he exhaled telling both women that he was annoyed. “So, am I allowed to say anything?”

  “You know that saying,” Natalie said benignly. “If you can’t say anything nice…”

  “Then don’t say anything at all,” all three of them said together.

  Gerry sighed. “Fine. Tell us about your date, Jen. That’s the real reason your mother wants me to shut up.”

  Jen’s heart stopped, then took off at a gallop. She tried to sound casual. “It’s just this guy I met at work.”

  “You must like him.”

  Jen met her mother’s gaze in the rear view mirror and strove to keep from fidgeting. She tried again to act like her sister and was pretty sure she failed. “Oh, I do. I think he’s just great.” She swallowed and fought to sound convincing. “He might even be The One.”

  “Romantic nonsense,” her mother sniffed.

  Gerry chuckled. “Wouldn’t life be boring, if we only got one chance at true love?” He slid a fingertip up Natalie’s arm and Jen looked away.

  Natalie laughed. “You can say that again.”

  Jen stared out the window and hoped they were wrong. Maybe she was ridiculously romantic, but she liked believing that there was one soul mate out there for all of us.

  What if hers was Zach Coxwell?

  Impossible. Zach was a means to an end, a way to gain herself time to find Mr. Right without her mother’s interference. It would be better if she could remember that and not think about the way he smiled. She certainly shouldn’t think about how much fun it was to match wits with him. She reminded herself that she wasn’t doing anything he might not do to someone else, and still felt crummy about her decision to go with Cin’s plan.

  She wanted this day to be over. Right now.

  Chapter Six

  Jen’s suspicion was confirmed when Cin answered the door to their grandmother’s house. She was jubilant, pretty much bouncing in anticipation of a good show. Her eyes were sparkling and she could hardly stay still. She was five feet of pixie on a sugar buzz. Just watching her made Jen’s head hurt.

  “So, where’s the hunk?” Cin demanded.

  “He’s coming.”

  “Didn’t want to scare him off by making him ride in the Honda, balancing the guacamole, huh?”

  “It seems a bit early in the relationship for that,” Jen acknowledged.

  “So, is this serious?” Jen’s brother M.B. took the tahini from her hands and gave her a buss on the cheek. He’d surrendered to his hair loss since she’d seen him last and had shaved his head bald.

  “I like it,” Jen said, rubbing the top of his head for luck.

  “No use fighting the inevitable,” M.B. said in his usual somber tones. He was the reliable one, everyone’s Rock of Gibraltar, and he had the deep, melodic voice to go with that role. She couldn’t remember ever hearing him raise his voice or get excited—and in this family, that was a feat.

  “Plus you look like the magic genie who lives in a bottle,” Jen teased.

  “There is that.” M.B. gave her a steady look. “This guy is The One?”

  Jen nodded, finding it harder to lie to M.B. than to her mother. “Maybe. I’m thinking so.”

  “You’re probably hoping so,” M.B. said. “Dating is such a pain—don’t let your heart get ahead of you, Jen.”

  “You know he’s The One,” Cin said supportively. “He’s such a hunk, after all.”

  “Beauty is more than skin deep,” Natalie interjected.

  “Not when you have to sleep with him,” Cin said before she sailed off to the kitchen with the pita bread.

  “I hear we’re going to be planning a wedding,” Jen’s grandmother said, looking as perky as ever. She was tiny, evidence of where Cin had come by her petite stature, but full of fire. She gave Jen a tight hug and stretched up to ruffle her hair. “I like it curly like this,” she said briskly, then changed subjects immediately. “Does he have a job?”

  “Uh, no, actually. He has a trust fund.”

  Gran’s eyes widened in approval while Jen was sure she heard her mother hiss behind her.

  “It’d be nice to have someone in the family with spare change,” Ian said, his voice lilting. Ever the pragmatic one and Cin’s partner (and foil) for ten years, Ian was unloading the Honda with efficient gestures.

  “I thought you’d wear a kilt today,” Natalie teased.

  “Can’t have Cin jumping my bones when the family’s around,” Ian retorted, only the sparkle of his eyes revealing that he was joking. “Might frighten Jen’s date away forever.”

  “Good point,” Natalie said. “We should all try to behave ourselves, right Gerry?”

  Gerry glared at Natalie. “Point taken,” he said coldly.

  “Why? Have you finally decided that we’re unconventional, Mom?” Pluto demanded. He was sauntering up the sidewalk from the bus-stop, his fair ponytail bouncing in the wind. He’d brought nothing but himself, typically.

  “What’s your contribution?” Natalie asked him with mock severity.

  “Unless that guitar case is full of chocolate, you’re a dead man,” Cin said.

  Pluto pretended to be insulted. “I brought my guitar, of course. My gift is my song and all that. Music soothes the savage beast.”

  “We’re not that bad,” Natalie said.

  “I’m counting on Jen’s date wanting to make a run for it at least once during the course of the day. I can lull him back into complacency. Hypnotize him, if necessary.”

  “You?” Cin demanded. “You’re more likely to play something from Aerosmith than a mellow ballad.”

  “You never know. It might be his thing.”

  “Great,” Jen felt the need to interject. “I bring a guy home for once and you’re all planning how to scare him away.”

  “On the contrary,” Natalie said, “we’re trying to ensure that we don’t scare him away. We’re making a plan.”

  “No wonder I’m afraid,” Jen muttered. M.B. grinned and gave her a hug.

  “Don’t worry, Jen,” her grandmother said, patting her on the shoulder. “I’ll protect him, if necessary.”

  Oddly enough, these reassurances had precisely the opposite effect upon Jen. She was thinking she should phone Zach and cancel the whole thing.

  After all, she still had his number.

  * * *

  It was too late for that, of course. No sooner were they inside and sorting things out in the kitchen than her grandmother’s doorbell rang. Jen had all the jitters of a first date. Under Cin’s bemused eye, she ran to the front door, half-afraid Zach wouldn’t turn up after all.

  But she opened the door to find him on the porch, carrying a bunch of cut flowers. He was wearing khakis that looked new, a crisp button-down shirt, suede desert boots and—best of all—a tweed jacket. He looked reputable, conservative and sufficiently uptight to fit the bill.

  Jen relaxed slightly. They should hate him on sight.

  And she shouldn’t feel guilty, like she was leading Zach to the lions. Who knew—he might be entertained. Or oblivious. “Hi. You didn’t need to wear a jacket.”

  “Seemed better to err on the side of caution.” Zach held out one sleeve. “What do you think? I borrowed it from my brother.”

  Jen actually liked it, her taste being more traditional than that of her family. It made Zach’s shoulders look broad and the bit of green in the tweed made his eyes look more viv
idly green. She reminded herself to not be charmed. “It looks good. Very Brooks Brothers.”

  Zach grimaced. “Probably is, knowing James. The man spends a fortune on clothes—or he used to.”

  “Got over it?”

  “Got married—to the queen of vintage. Reduce, reuse and recycle is Maralys’ mantra. Maybe it’s vintage Brooks Brothers.”

  Jen paused for a moment, surprised by this comment. Zach’s sister-in-law sounded like someone she would like. She wondered where the sister-in-law shopped—the great indicator of personality, in Jen’s view—then caught herself. After all, Zach’s manner indicated that this Maralys might not be universally accepted in his family.

  It didn’t matter. This was the only time she’d ever see him. She was not going to be curious about his family.

  He gestured to her shirtdress and beaded short cardigan. “But then it looks like you’ve got the vintage bug, too.”

  Jen blushed. “It’s an addiction, that’s for sure.”

  He smiled easily and her heart thumped. “It suits you. Very Coco Chanel. Or maybe a young Audrey Hepburn.”

  “Well. Thanks.” Jen was disconcerted by his compliment, as it was dead on the look she was after. Coincidence, that was all. She and Zach didn’t really think the same way, or have anything in common.

  Jen gestured Zach into the foyer to meet the rapidly-gathering cluster of curious relatives, ignoring her awareness of him. She introduced him at lightning speed—experience had taught her that it was the best way to get through the array of strange names without a lot of questions. Polite people always assumed that they had heard incorrectly if Jen said her siblings’ names fast.

  “Everyone, this is Zach Coxwell. Zach, this is my eldest brother, M.B. Sommerset.”

  Zach offered his hand. “M.B., like Milton Bradley, the game company.”

  “Not exactly.” M.B. was as solemn as only he could be, openly assessing Zach. “I don’t play games.”

  Jen moved right along. “This is my other brother, Pluto Nazinsky.” She paused, then felt obliged to explain Pluto’s appearance. “He’s a composer and musician.”

  “Great stage name,” Zach said with an easy smile.

  Pluto’s smile was thin. “Except it’s not a stage name.”

  Zach faltered for a beat. Jen felt bad for him. “My sister, Cin McKee,” she said. “And her partner Ian Gallagher.” Zach shook hands all around, like the good little private school boy he had been.

  Perfect. It was just too perfect.

  So, why was she feeling so awful?

  “Pleasure,” Ian said grimly as he shook Zach’s hand.

  “Hi, Zach, I’ve heard so much about you. I just couldn’t wait to meet you.” Cin gushed as only she could gush. “You know, I just have to tell you that I love a wedding, maybe a spring wedding…?”

  Zach glanced to Jen with some alarm and she shrugged, as if she had no idea what her sister was talking about. He nodded then, apparently remembering her comments about her crazy sister.

  He looked about to say something outrageous and Jen was so afraid he’d tell everyone she was pregnant that she said the first thing that came to mind.

  “Then maybe you should get married this spring,” Jen said to her sister. Cin flushed and Ian snorted. “Zach, this my mother, Natalie Sommerset, and her friend, Gerry Smith.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Zach said, shaking the hands of both of them and apparently not noticing their disapproval.

  “And my grandmother, Mabel Sommerset.”

  The older woman stepped forward with purpose and shook Zach’s hand. “Welcome, Zach. I’m very pleased to meet you and hope you have a good time today.”

  “Thank you. I’m certain that I will. I didn’t know what to bring, so I thought some flowers might be nice.” Zach offered a large bouquet of red and white flowers to Jen’s grandmother, who smiled with pleasure. Natalie and Cin dug their elbows into Pluto’s ribs, one from each side, as if he should take a lesson. He grimaced but said nothing.

  “Aren’t they lovely?” Gran enthused. “How thoughtful of you, Zach.”

  Before the moment could pass, Gerry stepped forward to finger a petal. “Oh, look,” he said. “Would these be Asiatic lilies and roses?”

  Zach glanced at the bouquet. “I guess. I don’t know much about flowers…”

  “Lilies and roses!” Gerry exclaimed. “In Massachusetts in November.” He turned a narrowed gaze on Zach. “They must have come from a hothouse.”

  Zach smiled, still apparently at ease. “Actually, they came from the Dash-In market around the corner from my apartment.”

  Gran snickered and Jen saw her life passing before her eyes. Cin was grinning, however, triumphant that her scheme was proceeding as if she’d scripted it.

  “Here we go,” M. B. muttered and rolled his eyes.

  Zach had time to look puzzled. Jen had time to want to intervene, then to remember that she shouldn’t.

  “Then they’re from Ecuador!” Gerry cried.

  “I guess.” Zach was clearly confused, a normal reaction for a normal person confronted with Gerry on a rampage.

  Jen might have intervened, but Cin gave her a covert thumbs-up, reminding her that this was all part of the plan.

  “I thought you were going to be nice,” Natalie muttered, but Gerry couldn’t leave this one alone.

  Gerry raised his hands, the usual precursor to a lecture. “Do you know that Ecuador exports over twenty-six thousand metric tonnes of fresh flowers every year?”

  This was Gerry’s sole talent as far as Jen could see—the man could remember copious quantities of trivia and could stop any conversation dead in its tracks by dissecting the GNP of a country no one else had ever heard of.

  Although, of course, she’d heard of Ecuador. The guy at the health food store was going to walk through there on his way to Chile.

  “No, I, uh, didn’t know that.” Zach looked at Jen, who fought her urge to help him out. She returned his glance benignly.

  “Twenty-six thousand tonnes,” Gerry intoned, “of the biggest, most vivid flowers. How do you think they do that?”

  “Airplanes, I’d guess,” Zach said.

  Pluto snickered. “Good one, man.”

  Gerry wasn’t having any of it. “I mean, how do they make them so big and vivid?”

  Zach shrugged. “T.L.C.?” Pluto chuckled again.

  “No! Pesticides,” Gerry hissed. “Lots of them.”

  “And virtual slave labor, it must be said,” Natalie contributed, being drawn into one of her favorite arguments against western capitalism and its effects on the third world, and this despite her admonition to Gerry in the car.

  Did Jen’s family have to be so weird so quickly?

  She reminded herself that this wasn’t a serious date.

  Mercifully.

  Natalie took a deep breath. “The wages for the workers are outrageously low and they work long hours to earn them. Never mind the exposure to fungicides after the flowers are picked…”

  “Here we go,” M.B. muttered. “And we’re not even out of the foyer. Come on, people, can we at least shut the door?”

  Gerry raised a finger, ignoring M.B.’s voice of reason “Pesticides and slave labor, all to fill jets with roses and lilies, to export them to the western democracies to please housewives and lovers…”

  M.B. intervened with resolve. “…thereby poisoning the planet and diminishing ozone and creating greenhouse gases for the sake of a wasteful, non-sustainable lifestyle, and when exactly are we going to eat?” He delivered this soliloquy with his usual deadpan manner, then reached past Zach and flicked the door closed with his fingertips.

  Zach looked briefly as if he wished he’d made a run for it while he could. Jen sympathized completely, although it was a bit disconcerting to find that they had something else in common.

  “We’ll eat soon,” Gran promised, carrying the bouquet toward the kitchen with a flourish. “And thank you. I think they’re pretty. Alwa
ys liked red. Good choice. There’s something to be said for a man who thinks to bring flowers.” She cast Jen a proud smile and gave Gerry a dirty look en route.

  “I don’t suppose we’ll catch you making that kind of a careless blunder again,” Gerry said, so superior in manner that Jen despised him all over again.

  Zach was undaunted. In fact, he straightened and looked Gerry in the eye. “Well, I don’t know. My mother always said to bring a gift that pleases the hostess. If I’m lucky enough to be invited back, I’d have to consider red flowers, whether they’re from Ecuador or not.”

  Natalie looked upon Jen’s date with narrowed eyes, then turned away, apparently biting her tongue. Jen felt admiration for Zach, for standing up for his beliefs regardless of the regional response to it.

  Come to think of it, wasn’t that the kind of strength of character her mother always said she admired?

  Zach watched Natalie, then glanced at Jen. Was he aware of his faux-pas? Or didn’t he care? Or were his manners just so good that his thoughts couldn’t be read? Jen couldn’t tell. He certainly didn’t appear to be ruffled by rudeness.

  That might stand him in good stead on this day.

  He trailed after Gran and the others, after offering Jen his hand. “That turkey smells really good, Mrs. Sommerset.”

  “Does it?” Natalie murmured.

  Gran beamed, Natalie glowered from the threshold to the living room. “I bought an organically raised one this year, and although the price was outrageous, I must say that I was very pleased with the bird itself…”

  Gerry whispered to Natalie. “I’m sure we could find some more statistics on the Internet about flower production…”

  Cin winked at Jen. “Good job,” she whispered.

  Jen followed, very aware of Zach’s gentle touch on her elbow, unable to quickly sort out her mixed feelings. His hand was strong, warm and he was comparatively sane. She felt an overwhelming urge to apologize to Zach for her family’s rudeness.

  But that wasn’t how Cin’s plan was supposed to work, was it?

  * * *

  Something weird was going on.

  Zach could smell it. Having been raised in a family with its own brand of weird, in which nothing was ever expressed verbally, Zach had learned young to sense emotional undertow—and avoid it for his own well-being.