Brody by Cheryl Douglas Page A

his shoulder. “We’ve got a pretty sweet setup downstairs. You wanna shoot some pool? We were just watching a football game.”
    “I’d love to.” Turning to me, Brody said, “You wanna come with us, Ri?”
    “Oh, Riley, I was hoping you’d keep me company? I just brewed a fresh pot of coffee.” To Brody, Sandra said, “There’s a fridge downstairs and plenty of snacks out. Please help yourself.”
    “Thanks,” he said with a brief smile. He clearly found it difficult not to be charmed by his stepmother.
    So did I. She had a wonderful, positive energy I felt drawn to.  “I’d love that, Sandra. Thank you.”
    “Okay then,” Brody said, following his brothers downstairs. “Just shout if you need me, Ri.”
    “Don’t you worry about her,” Sandra called after him. “She’s in good hands.”
    I followed her down a narrow hallway to a kitchen with a swinging door. The honey wood theme continued in here, with warm wood cabinets, earth-tone granite countertops, and sandy ceramic floors. There were also warm red and green accents, picking up the colors used on the rest of the main floor.
    “I love the way your house is decorated,” I said after she invited me to sit at the large wood table butted up against a wraparound window seat. “Did you do it yourself?”
    She smiled as she set a pot of coffee on a woven mat beside the dark red mugs she’d left out. “My mother owned a little home décor shop. I’ve worked there since I was teenager, and when she retired, I took over.”
    “Ah, I see.” I loved to dabble in decorating and, given my job, felt it was crucial to keep up with the trends not just in weddings, but also home décor and fashion, since they were so closely related. “That makes sense.”
    She placed a sliced lemon poppy seed loaf on the table between us, along with two small plates, before going to the stainless steel fridge for milk and cream. After returning to the table, she gestured to the loaf. “If you’re not a fan, I have some blueberry muffins too.”
    “No, this is wonderful,” I said, reaching for a slice and a paper napkin. “Thank you.”
    “My pleasure.” She filled our cups before adding cream and sugar to hers. “I can’t tell you how happy I am you and Brody are here. It took Jack so long to work up the courage to go see his son, and when he finally did…” She shook her head. “We weren’t expecting miracles. So when Brody called to say he wanted to meet the boys, we were so grateful.”
    “I’m glad we’re here too,” I said, trying to be cautiously optimistic. “I think this will be good for all of them.”
    “I hope so,” Sandra said, her smile slipping. “Jack misses his boys so much. He knows he doesn’t have a right to, since he was never much of a father when they were growing up, but people do change. And he certainly has.”
    I didn’t want to pry, but since she seemed willing to talk about her husband’s past, I had to ask, “Did you know him… before?”
    She fluffed her stylishly tapered bob. “Before he got sober? Yes, I did.” She laughed. “He was a dreadful person. If that’s their only memory of him, I’m not surprised Brody and his brothers want nothing to do with him.”
    I was grateful Sandra seemed to see their side of it. If they felt they had an ally in their stepmother, that would make it easier for them all to forge a relationship. “But he’s changed?”
    “Oh yes, definitely,” she said, nodding emphatically. “I wouldn’t have married him if I wasn’t sure he had. You see, I’d already had one bad marriage to an abusive alcoholic.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t be.” She forced a smile. “I got two beautiful children out of the deal, so I don’t regret it.”
    “You have other children?” I took a sip of the strong, rich brew.
    “Yes, two daughters.” She pointed at a built-in corner shelf with clusters of pictures, plants, and knickknacks. “There they are with their husbands and children.