Page 33 of Save You (Maxton Hall #2)

James

Mr. Bell’s Bolognese is amazing.

The spaghetti is al dente and the sauce is so perfectly balanced with herbs, tomatoes, garlic, and a dash of red wine that I absolutely can’t help the little appreciative sound I make as it crosses my lips.

Once I’ve tasted my first mouthful, there are four pairs of eyes fixed on me.

Ruby’s whole family is staring at me. Mr. Bell’s expression is making me particularly nervous.

Since I got the cutlery the wrong way round when laying the table, he’s had his eye on me, like he’s just waiting for me to make my next mistake and prove that I’m not good enough for his daughter.

And of course, I know which way round to put the knives and forks!

At business dinners at home there can be a whole array of the things, a set for each course. I’m not stupid, just a bag of nerves.

I clear my throat, sit up straight, and say with utter conviction, “This is the best Bolognese I’ve ever tasted.”

Ruby’s mother smiles at me. Ember mumbles something under her breath that sounds like “creep.” But at least Mr. Bell’s smile is a little friendlier now. I realize that both Ruby and Ember have his eyes—not just the color, but the intensity of their gaze.

“James,” says Mrs. Bell—Helen, I correct myself mentally—just as I’ve put another forkful of pasta in my mouth. “What are your plans for when you leave school?”

At once, I stiffen. But I see Ruby look expectantly at me, which reminds me that these people are her family and I don’t have to fake it with them.

“I’ve got an offer from Oxford,” I reply hesitantly, without the usual steel in my voice. “And I’m already on the board of Beaufort’s.”

“Have you always wanted to do that?” Helen persists.

OK. I might not have to fake it with them, but at the same time, I can’t lay my entire inner life bare to these virtual strangers. I just can’t. So I chew my spaghetti slowly and pretend that I’m thinking my answer over.

“Ruby knew that she wanted to go to Oxford so young. Sometimes I wonder if everyone at Maxton Hall is as ambitious as her,” she adds, smiling at her daughter, who is sitting to my right, squirming uneasily in her chair.

I swallow and take a sip of water. “No, not everyone is like Ruby, I can assure you of that.”

“What’s that meant to mean?” Ruby inquires, outraged.

“I don’t know anyone else who’s as desperate to go to Oxford as you. My friends and I have put the work in, but I’m sure nobody else is as dedicated as you.” I wonder for a moment if that sounds like I’m trying to suck up to her family by praising Ruby in front of everyone. “But maybe I’m biased.”

That makes them all laugh. Like they found that genuinely funny. I frown. I meant every word I said. I didn’t expect them to be amused by it. I feel an unfamiliar emotion in my chest, and take another forkful of pasta to suppress it.

After dinner, I help to clear the table. I’d never do that at home—that’s why we have staff—but here, everyone gets to work so automatically that I don’t hesitate a second.

Besides, I really do want Ruby’s parents to like me.

I totally understand them being dubious about me. I would too in their shoes.

“Will you two join us in the living room for a bit?” Helen asks once it’s done. “Or do you have to get home, James?”

I shake my head. “No, I don’t have to get home.”

“If they ask you questions you don’t want to answer, you don’t have to say anything,” Ruby whispers in my ear as we follow her mother out of the kitchen at a little distance. “I’m sorry it got so awkward earlier.”

“That’s OK,” I reply, equally quietly. “Don’t worry about it. I like your parents. And Ember too.”

A smile spreads over Ruby’s lips. I’d like to take her hand, or touch some other part of her, but we’re walking into the sitting room, where the rest of her family have already settled down comfortably.

I notice how spacious this room feels and how minimalistic the furniture is.

Unlike Ruby’s room, which is full to bursting, there’s a lot of free space here.

As Mr. Bell maneuvers his wheelchair to stand next to the sofa, I figure out why.

Then he picks up a remote control and suddenly the sofa rises up, until it’s level with the seat of his chair.

Mr. Bell slips from one to the other. When he first catches me watching him, I want to look hastily away, but I resist the impulse.

I don’t want him to think I have a problem with something that’s so everyday to him.

So I hold his gaze and point to the sofa, which is now sinking back down again.

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” I say honestly. “Is the mechanism built into the sofa, or…?”

Mr. Bell nods. If he’s surprised by my question, he doesn’t show it. “Yes, or more precisely, underneath it.”

Ember drops down next to her dad. She leans against his shoulder for a moment, and the look of love that spreads over his face softens all his features. So that’s what it looks like when a father doesn’t just see his child as a business partner he can manipulate for his own ends.

“Sit down,” says Helen. I turn uncertainly to Ruby, who takes the decision out of my hands by pointing to the armchair opposite the sofa. She herself sits next to Ember.

“Shall we play Jenga? You know how to play, right, James?” Ember asks suddenly, and her mum puts a game made up of wooden blocks in the middle of the coffee table. I shake my head, looking embarrassed. “No, actually, I’ve never played it.”

Ember’s mouth drops open. “OK. Wow, that’s…” She coughs. “I don’t know how to feel about that.”

I shrug my shoulders. “Sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ruby jumps in, glaring at Ember in a way that clearly tells her she’d better shut up now.

“No problem,” Helen agrees. “It’s easy-peasy.”

Mr. Bell snorts. “You say that because you always win.”

“Don’t be silly.” She smiles at me and points to the tower she’s built with the bricks. “Everyone takes turns to pull a brick out of the tower and add it to the top. You’re only allowed to use one hand, and there has to be at least one brick left in every row.”

I nod. “OK.”

“And the fun part is,” she continues, with a look at her husband, “there are always lots of winners and only one loser.”

“That’s not true,” Ruby says. “If you add up the last eighteen years, we’re all losers because Mum never knocks the tower down.”

Helen’s only response is to smile to herself, and at this moment I realize that I shouldn’t be deceived by her cheerful manner—she’s a force to be reckoned with.

The game starts. I’m next after Helen and pull one of the little blocks out by the side. Then it’s Mr. Bell’s turn, followed by Ember, and then Ruby. On just my second turn, the tower collapses. I jump in shock as the wooden blocks clatter down all over the place. “Shit,” I mutter.

“No offense, James, but you’re terrible at this,” says Ember.

“You just need a bit of practice,” says Ruby, sounding more confident than I feel.

Next time around, I do better, but even so, it’s me who brings the tower down.

And the time after that. But as Ember and Mr. Bell seem happy, I’m fine with it.

Round four goes better. I’ve been trying to copy Helen’s technique, and using just your fingertips definitely seems to make the difference.

After that, I take my time, even though I can feel everyone’s eyes on me.

I’m really trying to pull the brick out as slowly as possible, and this time it works.

In the end, the tower is so wobbly that Ruby shakes her head in despair as her turn comes around.

Her cheeks are slightly flushed as she leans in with an air of great concentration to pull out a brick.

The stack rocks from side to side as she leans back and we all wait with bated breath.

As the wobbling subsides and it seems still to be standing, I breathe a sigh of relief.

Ruby hears and looks at me over the tower.

I’ll never forget the smile on her face.

Seriously, never. It fills my whole body, and for a moment, I’m so caught up in her eyes that I don’t even notice Helen stretch out her hand and…

The tower crashes down. Ember shrieks triumphantly and jumps up, pointing her finger at her mother. “Ha!”

“James made Mum lose,” cries Ruby, clapping her hands.

Even Mr. Bell is laughing quietly, looking at his wife with amusement.

“I think we’re going to have to put that to the test again,” Helen says, looking at me. Then she nods toward the scattered blocks. “Help me build it up again, James.”

This family fascinates me. Their enthusiasm is infectious, and I’m feeling more lighthearted than I’ve done for ages.

“You’re on, Helen,” I reply, far too late, and get up to rebuild the tower. Little by little, brick by brick. Just like Ruby and me. And everything else.