"You stay in the backyard?"
"In the boat house."
He laughs sharply, taking me aback. "A boat house," he repeats, shaking his head.
I clear my throat, feeling awkward. "Do you want any water or anything?"
"Water would be good."
I move toward the cabinet, hoping the glasses are still in the same place. They are. I take two out and fill them at the refrigerator. "I guess I should tell you where everything is," I realize. "So those are the glasses, plates over there, pots under the counter, pantry is around the corner. Help yourself to anything, if no one has said that yet. There's a game room and a theatre downstairs, and a wine room. Also a gym, when you..." I trail off, not wanting to pry about his injury.
"Thanks," he says as I hand him the water. "And where's the living room?"
"Well, there are a few, to be honest," I reply, feeling self-conscious. "My guess is your mom meant one over this way," I tell him, leading him back down the hallway into the foyer, and crossing over to the other wing of the house. "What room are you staying in?"
"A bedroom. On the end, past Bree's."
"Big oil painting of a stork over the bed?"
"That's the one."
"Jack and I always called that the bird room. Jack's my brother. He's a football player."
"Right," he nods, as I peer into an empty room. We hear laughter from down the hallway, and cross over to what I've always thought of as the den. It's cozy, with a leather couch and a big TV over the mantle.
"There you are!" Anne says from the couch, where she and Bree are sitting. "Good bourbon on the bar cart if you want some," she adds.
"I'm not—" both Carter and I start at the same time. He nods at me to go ahead. "...Drinking right now," I finish.
"Bree!" Carter exclaims as he walks over to an armchair. I walk around to the other side of the couch to see what's put the frown on his face and smile when I see the beer on the coffee table in front of his little sister.
"Carter, it's OK," Anne says. "She can drink a little when she's home. I'd rather her get used to it some before she's twenty-one."
"Just one, though," Carter grumbles as he settles into his chair.
"Carter," Bree sighs, rolling her eyes.
"Is Jack protective of you like this?" Anne asks as I pull a chair over to the other corner of the coffee table.
"He was a little in high school, after I had my, um, growth spurt," I say with a smile, unsure of how to reference the summer my breasts went from an A to a C cup. "But we're so close in age, not even two years apart. So I think it's different. What's your age difference?"
"Twelve years," Bree answers. "I was a mistake."
"A surprise!" Anne exclaims, and Bree giggles, clearly enjoying teasing her mother a little. "So, Alexa, is it strange to see us here, making ourselves comfortable in your house?"
She clearly means it lightly, but all three of them glance at me, and I shift in my seat. They all have the same bright green eyes, and they're all focused on me. "Honestly, I don't really see this as my house anymore. I haven't been home in a couple years."
"Well, I hope you'll tell me if you have anything you'd really like to eat on Thanksgiving," she says with a kind smile, and my heart pulls a little in my chest. My dad's never made much of the holidays before.
I hear footsteps in the hallway and glance toward the door just as my father appears there, as if on cue. I stand as he walks in. He looks a little older, and a little shorter than I remember, but his eyes are just as steely.
"Dad," I greet him.
"Alexa. Glad to see you made it home safely," he says, giving me a kiss on the cheek. "And you must be Carter," he adds, turning to shake his hand. Carter stands, not bothering to reach for his crutches.
"Sir," he says, and I see that they're almost the same height, though Carter might have a half inch on him.
"Dr. Sauveterre says you're healing excellently," he remarks. I look at him in surprise. My father's been talking to Carter's physicians?
"Yes, sir," Carter says shortly. My father crosses over to the couch and sits next to Anne. I watch him put his arm around her, resting it comfortably around her shoulders. It's strange to see him with someone. I never even saw him date after my mom, but I guess he could have while I was away at boarding school or college.
"And you get your cast off tomorrow, correct?" my dad asks.
"You do?" Anne asks. "I wish I had known! I'm meeting with the wedding planner to go through the catering options."
"Maybe I could switch shifts," Bree offers.