“Did my parents make you feel uncomfortable yesterday?”
Charli paused just as she was placing the final meatball in the large cast iron pan. “Not at all. They were wonderful and full of information.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of,” Jack groaned.
She put the baking sheet in the oven and stood with her hands on her hips, a mischievous smile pasted across her features. “You know, Jack, it’s not always about you,” she teased. She pointed toward the kitchen island. “I forgot to tell you. Your mom brought that box over yesterday and told me it had a bunch of pictures that I may find interesting. Some of Elizabeth, her husband, and son. Let me show you.”
She washed and dried her hands, then picked up the box. She set it on the table in front of where he satand carefully lifted the lid. “This box is full of family odds and ends, but I put the most important photos on top.” She handed him a shot of a couple and a baby.
“This is Elizabeth, Anthony, and their baby, Malcolm.” She ran a finger over Anthony. “Remember Amelia’s comments about him? I think he was actually quite handsome. Don’t you? Although those sideburns are something else.”
Jack grunted and picked up another photo of Malcolm as a young boy. “This looks like he was going to school.”
Charli grinned. “I know. Wasn’t that a cute outfit?” She picked up another photo. “Here’s another shot of the three of them several years later. Malcolm looks like a pre-teen.”
“They didn’t have any more children?” Jack asked, his brow beetled.
Charli shook her head. “No, Malcolm was an only child. Amelia mentioned in one of her entries that Elizabeth was having trouble conceiving, so maybe he was their one lucky shot.”
“Hmmmm,” Jack murmured. “When was he born?”
“In 1871...the same year Amelia committed suicide. And all we know about his birth is the year. The rest wasn’t recorded.”
Jack’s brows rose. “Huh. Well, that’s a coincidence.”
Charli shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Key West didn’t start issuing birth certificates until the 1890s. Most families recorded births and deaths in the family bible.” She glanced at the clock. “We have another fifteen or thirty minutes before the ladies show up.”
She glanced around the kitchen. The wine and sangria bottles were lined up on the kitchen island as well as several trays of hors d’oeuvres. “Anything else we’re missing?”
Jack looked up from the picture he was holding, then squinted his eyes at the food. “Nope. As long as you have the sangria and pigs-in-a-blanket, they’ll be happy as clams. And they usually tend to be early to any event where drinking is involved.”
Charli snorted. “That’s the first time I’ve ever made pigs-in-a-blanket. I can’t believe they eat them.”
Jack met her eyes. “They usually have them at every meeting. The only reason we didn’t have them the night of your initiation is because it was unplanned. We came straight here from the Spent Pickle after they tracked us down, remember?”
Charli grinned. “That’s right...that was a fun night.”
Jack chuckled. “The next morning wasn’t as much fun for you.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Charli shuddered. “And I’ve promised myself I won’t have a repeat.”
“Don’t worry, baby.” Jack smiled and grabbed her hand to pull her close. “I’ll cut you off before you reach the point of no return.”
“My hero,” Charli breathed before she leaned down to kiss him.
Right before her lips met his, her phone began blaring a loud, obnoxious ring. She scrunched up and face and looked down over at the counter where her phone sat, knowing from the ring who was calling her.
“What the hell does he want,” she mumbled as she crossed to the counter.
“What does who want?” Jack asked as she picked up her phone and hit the accept button.
She pressed speakerphone and held the phone up to her chin. “Hello, Mr. Stewart. This is an unexpected call.”
“Charli. Hello.” There was a brief pause before he continued. “It’s good to talk to you.”
Charli closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing herself to be professional but her anger was more than she could overcome. She leaned against the counter and replied bitterly, “That’s odd, Mr. Stewart.The last time we spoke, I was Miss Harris to you and the conversation was less than pleasant.”
“Yes, well...” Mr. Stewart cleared his throat. “I hope you’re not holding any resentments toward us for the reorganization. You weren’t the only attorney who had their cases reshuffled.”
