A Wedding in Truhart Read Free

nose-smashing greeting. I laughed and jumped back. He managed to look as if nothing unusual had happened.
    I felt thirteen again.
    â€œHi, Nick.”
    â€œWelcome to Atlanta.”
    â€œIt’s great to finally be here.” I smoothed my hair, conscious of the uneven side. And then I added a huge insight to the conversation. “It’s hot.”
    â€œConsider yourself initiated to summertime in Georgia,” he said, narrowing his gaze to the side of my head where I was trying to tame that curl. “Sorry to hear Ian couldn’t come.”
    Why my brother, Ian, and Nick got along so well was completely beyond my understanding. Ian was a long-haired college dropout who spent half his life with a guitar in his hands playing dimly lit bars from Indiana to the Upper Peninsula. Nick was a former high school star pitcher with near perfect standardized test scores, who earned a full ride to Vanderbilt University and joined one of the most successful architectural firms in the South. He was driven to succeed the same way Ian was compelled to loaf. Yet their friendship had lasted all these years.
    â€œYou know Ian. He had a gig in Grand Rapids last night and said he would help with the inn this weekend.” I didn’t add that we only had one guest booked tonight. The summer had been a struggle.
    â€œNick! It’s so good to see you,” said my mother, coming up behind us with Aunt Addie.
    Aunt Addie squealed, “Nicholas Conrad! Look at you, dressed up in a suit like a fancy businessman.”
    â€œAunt Addie . . .” Nick started, before being swooped up in a sloppy bear hug.
    â€œIt’s been way too long since you were home, young man,” Aunt Addie said. “We can’t have you turning all soft and getting Southern on us, can we?”
    She said it loud enough that a few people nearby frowned.
    Nick cracked a smile. “Don’t worry, Aunt Addie. I still know how to fire a muzzle-loader and wrestle a four-wheeler.”
    â€œHmm,” she said, examining him closer.
    â€œDarling, are these the people from your hometown you have told me so much about?” said a breathy voice followed by a sinewy bare arm that wrapped itself around Nick’s elbow.
    Nick nodded to one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. She had long black hair, perfect bone structure, and blue eyes framed by thick black lashes.
    â€œBrittany, these are the Adlers. Virginia, Adelaide, and—”
    â€œAnnie,” I said, holding out my hand before he introduced me as Bump.
    Brittany batted her eyelids and stared at Aunt Addie’s blue cabbage roses as if they were slightly out of focus. After a moment she looked toward me, leaning forward until my view was taken up by her generous cleavage. Her eyes traveled from my fake designer shoes to the top of my frizzy head. She shook my hand, turned to Nick and smiled. “You never told me how cute they are.”
    Cute? Should we have put our hair in pigtails and painted freckles on our faces?
    â€œHow nice to meet you,” said my mother, ever aware of her hostess manners, even when she was away from the inn.
    Aunt Addie’s gaze hadn’t moved from Brittany’s chest and I had to jab her with my elbow to get her to stop staring. Nick saw me and his mouth turned down at the corner. If I didn’t know him better I would think he was suppressing a smile. But Nick didn’t smile much, at least not at me.
    The last time I’d seen Nick was several years ago, as he had stood beside his father’s grave. As long as I lived I would never forget how he had looked that cold April morning. His mother and sisters had clung to him, their breath coming out in billowing clouds of white and their gloved fingers clutching tissues as they failed to hold back tears. He had stood stoically in a gray wool overcoat, practically holding his family upright. His face had been pale, and his lips were compressed to thin lines.