The lack of sleep left him wooly-eyed and cotton-headed on Sunday morning when he showed up for the standing brunch at Charlotte’s Grove. If ever he was going to confide in someone, today would be the day.
He needed advice. He couldn’t go on like this, waiting for the worst to happen and yet still hoping he was wrong about Courtney. But he couldn’t talk to Dad. After the Allison debacle, he’d lost faith in his father. The feeling was mutual.
Should he bring this to David? Maybe. Although his own insecurities made that difficult. He’d spent his life being told that he should be like David. David would never have gotten himself into a situation like this one.
He couldn’t talk to Uncle Mark either. Mark had believed in him when no one else had. He didn’t want to wreck that new beginning. So he entered Charlotte’s Grove unsure of himself, which was nothing new.
The July heat and humidity had descended upon the Shenandoah Valley with a vengeance that week, so Aunt Pam had laid out the buffet in the dining room. The family gathered in the adjacent den, which was already crowded when Matt arrived.
The moment Matt entered the room, Uncle Mark lifted his Bloody Mary and said, “The man of the hour has arrived.”
Matt stopped in his tracks, blinded by the sight of the family lifting their glasses in his direction. The insane urge to turn tail and run overwhelmed him. He suddenly needed to confess, in excruciating detail, why he could never be anyone’s man of the hour. How utterly ironic that the moment he’d waited for all his life didn’t ease his worry.
Nor did it erase the deep-seated ache in his heart.
But coward that he was, he didn’t say a word. Instead he snagged his own Bloody Mary and headed across the den in Uncle Mark’s direction.
But he didn’t get far before Uncle Jamie intercepted him. “You got a minute?”
The sober look in his uncle’s eyes put Matt on guard. Uncle Mark might be the oldest sibling and the one with the political connections, but Uncle Jamie was probably the most powerful man in Jefferson County.
If Matt were to become a member of the County Council, he’d have to worry about Uncle Jamie all the time. It occurred to him that the close family bonds might be a problem in the future. But for now he didn’t want to rock any boats.
“Sure. What’s up?” Matt said.
“Not here. Let’s step out onto the terrace.”
What the hell? It was ninety-six degrees out on the terrace. But Uncle Jamie snagged him by the arm and gently tugged him out through the French doors. No one, except David, seemed to notice. David, on the other hand, followed them with his dark, sober stare.
“Let’s sit in the shade,” Jamie said as he crossed the terrace and sat down under one of the umbrellas. Even in the shade it was muggy. Sweat began to dampen Matt’s skin. He took a long sip of his drink and then asked, “What’s up?”
“What’s up is that I’m deeply disappointed in you.”
Damn. Story of his life. He sat straighter in his chair. “About what?” He did a poor job of disguising his annoyance.
Jamie shook his head. “Don’t take that tone with me. I think you know what I’m upset about.”
Damn. This made no sense. Courtney wouldn’t have gone to Uncle Jamie. If she had wanted to mess up his life, she would have gone to Bill Cummins or the press. She could have made him pay. But she didn’t. All she’d ever done was help him and his clients.
“I’m confused.” He collapsed back in the chair and closed his eyes, the heat melting him.
Jamie chuckled. “I’m not surprised by that.”
Matt opened his eyes. “Wait. I really am confused. You’re disappointed and you’re not surprised. Oh yeah, I guess the story of my life.”
Jamie leaned forward and gave his knee an avuncular pat. “Son, Courtney Wallace apparently had a crying jag at work on Wednesday morning. And as you know, your cousin Amy, who is not here today because she works on Sundays, happened to mention it to me yesterday when she came by the vineyard to pick up some reserve wine for a reception.”
“Courtney had a crying jag? That doesn’t sound like her.”
“No, it doesn’t. And apparently she’s drinking a lot of chamomile tea these days.”
“Chamomile tea?” A very bad feeling was beginning to settle into Matt’s gut.
“That’s the foul-tasting tea women drink when they’re pregnant. Debra swore by it.” Jamie’s stare was both direct and compassionate.
“Are you telling me that Courtney really is pregnant?”
“Courtney is not Allison.”
“You know about Allison?”
“Everyone knows about Allison and what she tried to do to you. Thank God for your aunt Pam, who can be a royal pain in the ass much of the time. But in the case of Allison Chapman, she saw that girl coming from a mile away.”
“Aunt Pam?”
“Are you telling me that your father never told you how Aunt Pam cornered that girl and cut right through her lies?”
Matt shook his head. “No. I thought he went to Judge Chapman or something.”
“Why would your father do that? He regularly argues cases before Judge Chapman. And believe me, there was some fallout, even though Pam did the dirty work.” Jamie let go of a long sigh. “Look, son, I know you were heartbroken over Allison. Everyone in the family knows that. But Courtney is not Allison. I understand if you don’t want to marry her. But you’re a fool if you walk away from a child.”
Uncle Jamie’s voice got hard and a little emotional. The look on his face pierced Matt’s armor. If he didn’t know better, he might think Uncle
