Chloe claimed a seat next to her mother, and it didn’t take long for me to realize she had done that on purpose. Angie’s hands were clearly bothering her. I watched Chloe fill her own plate with slices of chicken breast the she cut into bite-sized pieces, a scoop of roasted veggies that she also cut into smaller chunks, scalloped potatoes, and a dinner roll that she tore in half. Then, without fuss, she swapped plates with Angie, who gave her a tiny nod of appreciation.
Angie caught my gaze and smiled. “You have to try the potatoes, Steven. They’re Chloe’s favorite.”
I smiled back. “I’m not going to pass up cheesy potatoes.”
“Hand me your plate,” Chloe said, not quite meeting my eyes. “The potatoes are heavy. It’s easier not to pass them around.”
I gave her my plate across the table and then Amy’s. “Thanks.”
After also serving Terry and her grandmother, she looked at her brothers. “Who else wants potatoes?”
Of course everyone wanted potatoes, and there was a loud ruckus as her brothers informed her of that, each clamoring to be served first.
“Calm down,” Chloe laughed. “There’s plenty of food, even for you maniacs.”
“Please, miss, may I have some more?” Garret begged like Oliver Twist, his hands clasped. His was the last plate, and Chloe had already plopped a sizable portion next to his chicken.
“No way,” Jaxson protested. “It’s not humanly possible to eat that much. Not even for you.”
Garret smirked. “I ran thirty miles this morning. Watch me.”
With a sigh and a laugh, Chloe emptied the rest of the potatoes onto Garret’s plate. “Hope no one else wanted seconds, because I’m not cooking more.”
“Yes!” Garret pumped his fist. “That’s why you’re my favorite, Chloe.”
“Thirty miles?” Amy asked.
Garret nodded. “I’m training for my first hundred-mile race. Phoenix in November.
“Wow.” Amy looked impressed.
I shot her adon’t even think about itlook and then saw Chloe’s plate. “You didn’t get any potatoes,” I said under the thrum of voices.
She shrugged it off. “I have plenty of food.”
“But—”
She stared daggers at me. All right, then. I’d mind my own business.
“So, Steven, Terry tells me you will be taking the farrier exam soon?” Margaret—who they all called Grams—asked, pulling my attention away from Chloe.
“That’s right, ma’am.”
“And what are your plans after that? Will you be going into business for yourself, or partnering with Terry? Terry, pass me the rolls, please.”
Terry cast a confused glance at the platter of roast chicken in front of his plate. Chloe picked up the basket of rolls next to her and passed them to Margaret. But Margaret was still watching me, waiting for my response, so after a moment of hesitation,Chloe set the basket down in front of her grandmother with a brief press of her lips.
“Well, I—” I looked at Terry, unsure what to say. A partnership hadn’t occurred to me.
“We haven’t had a chance to discuss it. I wasn’t going to spring it on you over dinner,” Terry said, shooting his mother-in-law an exasperated look. “So, thanks for that, Grams.” He turned to me sheepishly. “Grams and Angie have been after me to take on a partner, and step back from the more physical parts of the job. I was hoping that might be you.”
“Oh, I—augh—” I grimaced as someone’s shoe kicked my shin with too much force to be accidental.
“Are you all right?” Margaret asked, her brow puckered with concern.
“Banged my knee, that’s all.” I rubbed my leg and narrowed my eyes at Chloe.
She glared right back, her hand wrapped threateningly around a knife handle as she slowly and exaggeratingly mouthed the words, “Fuck. No.”
