had no idea he’d been insulted. Family, even friends and neighbors, never used the front door.
Instead, Cleve swelled with importance. Then he said, “It’s all right, Mr. Randall. I’m sure Elizabeth will remember the next time.” Then he added, with disapproval, “She appeared to be excited about this gentleman’s arrival.”
As if Cleve wouldn’t know, Jake wrapped his arm around Toby with a warm smile, and said, “My oldest son.”
Cleve stared at the two of them.
“He doesn’t look like the rest of you.”
Toby said nothing. Their coloring was close, but his eyes were more golden than the warm brown of the rest of the Randalls. Being known as a Randall was the proudest thing in his life. He had worked harder than anyone, been the most accomplished of the Randalls because he’d had the gift of becoming a Randall. He hadn’t ever wanted to disappoint Jake. But he knew he really wasn’t a Randall.
His family, however, immediately responded to Cleve’s comment. They all assured Cleve, in various ways, that Toby was a Randall through and through. It was Elizabeth who ended the protest. She stepped back to Toby’s side and wrapped her arm around his waist.
“Toby is part of my family, a very important part.”
There was a finality in her voice that told everyone within hearing, even Cleve, how Toby fit in the family. For her efforts, she received a beaming smile from Jake and corroborating nods and grunts from the others.
She didn’t receive any appreciation from Toby. He pulled away and moved to the back door. “We don’t want to keep the ladies waiting.” She supposed it was his excuse for his abrupt movement, but it struck Elizabeth in her heart.
Everyone funneled into the kitchen after him. Elizabeth watched him move to his mother’s side, wondering if he’d changed so much in the years he’d been gone. She suddenly remembered the last summer before he’d left for college. She’d caught him kissing a girl at the Fourth of July party. She’d been devastated to see him with his arms around another woman. Her mother had pointed out that he was a young man. She was five years younger, too young to even think about those kinds of activities.
She supposed he’d kissed a lot of women since then.
“Hi, Mom. What’s for dinner?” Toby asked.
B.J. kissed him on the cheek. “We changed the menu just for you. Red is making his chicken-fried steak.”
As Toby smiled at his mother, someone muttered, “How bourgeois.”
Everyone turned to stare at Cleve, and Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed.
Red pokered up. “Boy, if you don’t like—”
Jake quietly stopped him. “Red, mind sliding a rib eye under the grill? That might be more to Cleve’s taste.”
Red muttered something under his breath and turned his back on the guest.
Toby tried to search for a distraction. “Hey, you haven’t set the table. We’ll do it for you.”
Mildred shot him a nervous look. “We’ve already set the table…in the dining room.”
Toby realized the reason for Mildred’s concern. They never ate in the dining room except at Christmas. They were a boisterous, loving family. Dinner was their opportunity to catch up on everyone’s day. Though taught good manners, they all participated in the many conversations flowing around the table.
Toby suspected dinner tonight would be silent and over quickly.
Elizabeth almost pulled Cleve aside then and there and told him their engagement was going to be brief. Like, ending tonight. He might have fit into her life in Laramie, but it was clear Cleve would never be comfortable with her family or vice versa. Her automatic choice came down on her family’s side.
Had she ever really loved him? It made her sound fickle. Maybe if she gave it a few more days.
“Elizabeth,” her mother, Megan, said. “Why don’t you take Cleve into the living room? We’ll have everything ready in a few moments.”
Elizabeth looked disturbed, and Megan added, “Boys, go with Elizabeth and Cleve. It will give you the chance to get to know him better.”
Toby knew he was included in that general direction, but he didn’t want to comply. The last thing he wanted to do was get to know Cleve better. He hoped his cousin’s engagement would be short, and that they’d move back to Laramie at once.
It was his only hope.
AFTER DINNER, B.J. called her daughter, Caroline, to tell her Toby was moving home. Caroline demanded to speak to her oldest brother.
“Finally!” she greeted him. “I was beginning to think my own brother hated me! I haven’t seen you since Christmas. Even then you avoided me.”
“Did not, squirt,” he returned with a grin. “I was trying not to bully you like you used to accuse me of doing.”
“I don’t believe you. What’s wrong? Did you start losing? Are the women turning you down? Did you get too old?”
“Watch it, brat,” he warned his little sister. “When are you coming home?”
“Next Friday. I’m not going to miss a chance to see the famous Toby Randall! My friends will all be so jealous.”
“There you go again, showing no respect. No man’s going to want a sassy woman.”
Her voice changed, turning smooth and silky. “Oh, you’d be surprised, big brother.”
“I’m having a talk with you as soon as you get here, little girl,” he warned.
“Practice on Elizabeth. Get rid of that jerk she says she’s going to marry!”
Toby’s breath caught in his throat, and he coughed. “Elizabeth’s not my sister, honey,” he finally said softly. “It’s not my business if she wants to marry him.”
She didn’t respond, and Toby tried again. “She’s—”
Then Caroline found her voice. “What’s wrong with you, Toby? When Harry Stiller picked on her in the fifth grade, you fixed him. Why can’t you take care of stupid Cleve?”
Toby wanted to hang up. It was a question he didn’t have an answer for. “We’re all grown up, Caroline. We’re allowed to handle our own problems, make our own choices.”
“Well, your choices stink!” she snapped. Then she hung up the phone.
He said goodbye to the buzzing in his ear, so his parents wouldn’t know Caroline was mad at him.
He stood up, unable to remain in the house; he needed some space to breathe…away from Cleve O’Banyon. He edged toward the door.
“Oh, Toby,” B.J. said, “I wanted to talk to Caro. Did she say when she’s coming home?”
“Yeah,
