Page 37 of Just a Plot Twist (Tate Brothers #7)

Claire and I exchange a look before I get up. “I’ll go talk to her,” I tell her.

Claire gives a quick nod, her brows twinging together in sympathy. “Good luck,” she says.

I catch Dax’s gaze, but he nods, like, I’m fine. I’ll just be eating my steak.

I catch up to Indie right before she crosses through the double doors of the restaurant. “Indie, slow down.”

“No!” she tosses over her shoulder, weaving past the ma?tre d’.

Soft. Slow. Simple. I chant in my mind as I try to catch up to her.

I read it in a parenting book once, about how you’re supposed to approach people who are triggered or upset in a soft, slow, and simple way.

It’s helped diffuse a lot of arguments on my end, but I still don’t always remember to do it.

Finally, halfway down the hall, Indie stops, leans her shoulder against the wall and folds her arms over her chest in a huff.

“Dax is the literal worst!”

I don’t answer, just sink down into a cross-legged position, my back against the wall. I take a couple of deep breaths while she complains about her older brother.

When I was growing up, I wished I had a sibling, and sometimes I tell the kids how lucky they are to have each other—usually when things are calm. Now, I have six brothers. Life is so unpredictable.

Soon, Indie’s in tears, but she’s not letting me hug her, so I wait, and, like I suspected, there are other reasons for her pain, in addition to having “the worst older brother in the world.” She starts talking about kids at swim and something mean another girl said to her, and I sigh, my throat growing thick .

I don’t do mean girl stuff, so I feel myself beginning to shut down. I can’t handle it when other kids are mean to my kids. And the more she talks about it, the angrier I get.

By the time Indie joins me on the hallway floor, mirroring my posture, I’m still just listening, but my papa bear has reared its ugly head.

I’m plotting now. Can I get ahold of the manager of Indie’s swim team this late at night?

Is it too much to ask to have this other little girl immediately booted from the team?

It’s not a great headspace to be in.

But then, suddenly Claire approaches. She rests a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, can I take a turn?” she asks softly, giving Indie a tenuous smile.

“No!” Indie shouts, wrapping her arms around her stomach and bending at the waist. “Everyone needs to leave me alone.”

Claire rears back slightly, like she wasn’t expecting that.

“Indie, we’re not at home, so it’s not safe to leave you alone here. But Claire and I can go down the hall.” It’s tiring, trying to figure out how to parent on my own, without Danica’s involvement. It was tiring even when I was married, which I’m pretty sure is normal.

But now? Sometimes, the despair is too much and a sinking feeling starts in. Like I’m in over my head.

“No!” Indie says again, a little quieter this time. “Then you’ll just talk about me down there.” She points down the hall in a wild swing of her arm.

It’s kind of funny. I squelch a burst of a laugh and school my features. Claire’s doing the same. It’s good to have her here with me.

The past two weekends, she’s spent a lot of time with us—the kids and Cinnamon. Yes, Cinnamon is still in the mix. Mrs. Lambert extended her trip again, calling her son-in-law a fathering newbie, who has no clue , so she had to stay.

So, yeah, Cinnamon’s still around, which I’m tolerating. But it’s going to be that much harder for the kids to say goodbye to her now that she’s “solidly part of the family.”

Those are the kids’ words, not mine.

“Claire and I want to talk about what treats we’d like to buy for Cinnamon in the morning,” I say.

“Or what movie we should do for family movie night tomorrow,” Claire adds. “We don’t need to talk about your private stuff, Indie. That’s between you and your dad. I’m just here in case either of you need any help with anything, okay?”

Indie doesn’t speak, but she doesn’t protest the idea. She just stares ahead.

Claire sits along the floor, a few feet down from Indie and rests her head against the wall. In the silence, Indie fumes.

“You want to talk about it some more, Indie? About Dax or the kids at swim or…?”

“No!”

I hold up my hands in surrender. “Okay.”

We’re quiet for several minutes, just waiting. I glance over at Claire, and she’s resting calmly. Like she’s got all the time in the world.

Finally, a sniff from Indie, before the dam breaks loose and she’s full-blown crying. I hold my hands out for an embrace.

But Indie bypasses me completely, instead scooting to Claire and throwing her arms around her in a savage hug .

Claire’s eyes widen as she wraps her arms around Indie. After a moment, she squeezes her eyes shut and runs a hand down the back of my daughter’s head.

And when she opens her eyes, they glisten with tears. She blinks rapidly as she pats Indie’s back, and through the sobs comes a little humming from Claire. I don’t recognize the tune until she starts singing the words.

“I love you, a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck.”

Indie’s crying is so loud, I doubt she can even hear Claire’s quiet words, but she must feel the reverberation through her chest because pretty soon, she wipes her tears away and her sobs become intermittent breaths, like little hiccups.

Claire finishes singing after a couple of times through and that’s when Indie pulls away.

I’m not the best at timing these things, but after a few more minutes, I calmly mention to Indie that while Dax was in the wrong to bring up Indie’s needle fears, it’s not okay to say something mean just to get him back. But Indie only nods and changes the subject, looking at Claire.

“What did I miss in there?” Indie asks.

I chuckle. It’s good that she’s starting to feel like herself again.

“Nothing too exciting,” Claire says with a wink. “Quinn and River, who are Henry’s and Gabriel’s wives…”

Indie gives Claire a look like, I’m not dumb.

Claire grins. “Okay, okay. You know that they’re both pregnant, so there’s lots of pregnancy talk.

And Grammy Tate told everyone about the time your uncles did a lemonade stand in the neighborhood when they were kids.

Oh, and Sebastian and Elianna said they have something they need to tell everyone. ”

Indie makes a face. “What do you think it is?”

“Maybe Sebastian’s going to join the circus,” I offer.

Indie giggles and some of the stress in my chest loosens. I love that she knows Sebastian well enough to know how funny that image is.

“Or maybe Elianna’s going to announce she’s writing a book about Shakespeare,” Claire says.

“No. If she’s writing a book, it has to be about how to be married to a guy like that ,” Indie quips, her mouth widening in a big grin.

I think she means that Sebastian is…particular? Uptight?

Oh boy. I scratch the back of my head. I have my work cut out for me with Indie.

It’s clear she was kidding, though. Sebastian’s not usually a barrel of laughs, but as Indie passes him on the way back to her seat, they give each other a fist bump.

And then for the big announcement. Indie is the first to cheer when Sebastian and Elianna announce that they, too, are expecting a baby. The rest of us take a moment to work through the surprise.

Sebastian’s going to be a dad? Looks like he’s having a hard time believing it, actually. He’s got a faraway look, which could be mistaken for sheer, white hot terror at the prospect.

Celine grins, placing her hands on her cheeks. “Three new grandchildren in the next few months?”

After much discussion about how Elianna is feeling and what their future plans are, we all get up to leave.

“We made such a mess,” River says, placing her hand over her baby bump and laughing.

She’s right. Napkins and silverware and glasses all askew. The crusty remnants of bread baskets. The floor littered with crumbs, especially near where Callum and Elizabeth were sitting.

But I just want to take a mental picture of it. This is what I always wanted growing up as an only child. I wanted this mess, and now I have it…I’m a part of it.

It’s not perfect. But it doesn’t have to be.

Thomas pulls me aside as we’re all walking out, holding me back as everyone slowly passes us. It’s not just the pregnant women who are rubbing their full bellies.

“I have something to show you.” Thomas shows me his phone screen. “Do you know who this is?” He points to a line item with a large sum and a name.

My eyes can’t even focus on the small writing when he says, his voice lowering, “Celine will get angry at me for showing you this, since it’s work related.”

Surprise drifts through me when it registers. “Vernon and Patricia Hanson? Yeah. They’re Claire and Sophie’s grandparents.”

He nods. “They raised Sophie and Claire.”

“I know. What is this?”

“This is stuff we needed before we file for an injunction.” Thomas’s mouth is a thin, hard line. Finally, he and HR confronted Peter Schiller with their claims and let him go. Time will tell what the fall-out will be.

Thomas shoots out a breath. “Here’s a line item from a public fundraiser a couple of months ago. There was a charity auction in Boulder that Peter was involved in. I got a copy of the donations—all public record, mind you. I recognized the name because of Sophie. So I dug a little deeper. ”

“You dug into the Hansons?”

Thomas gives a curt nod. “Not only are the Hansons and Schillers long-time friends, but the Hansons were one of the main supporters of this fundraiser the Schillers had. And get this: the reason for the fundraiser was stated as ‘industry development.’ What does that even mean?”

I blink. Is he accusing the Hansons of being involved in this new business venture?

“Do you think Claire knows?” I ask.

His mouth twists to one side. “I wouldn’t doubt it. She’s the granddaughter of one of the Schiller’s benefactors and friends. If her grandparents are involved...”

I shake my head. “Claire would have said something if she knew her grandparents were involved.”

He gives me a look like , maybe, maybe not. “She could get us some information.”

“I’m not going to pit her against her grandparents, Thomas.”

“Not pit. Ask . That’s all, Benson.”

Claire’s grandparents contributed to a fundraiser for the Schiller’s new business? The one that’s setting out to harm my father’s company?

This is terrible.

I stare at the spreadsheet again. “The amount is…substantial.”

Thomas’s face is grim. “I didn’t want to say it, but it’s on the level of a business partner situation.”

Are Claire’s grandparents partnering with the Schillers in their new business venture?

You’ve got to be kidding .

Thomas’s face sours even more. “I’m looking into rescinding my donation to the city of Longdale for their hiking paths. I was happy to do it before, but under the circumstances…”

He trails off and I ask him to reconsider. “You can’t do that. Claire has nothing to do with the Schillers.”

“We can’t be too sure about that, can we?”