Beauty and the Mustache (29 page)

“
Who is that? Who is
sitting next to you?” Elizabeth indicated to my right where Roscoe
was sitting. “Is that Billy or Roscoe?”

“
That’s Roscoe, and he was
just leaving.”

Everyone in Chicago ignored me and waved at
my brother, giving him friendly smiles and greetings.

“
Hi, Roscoe. I’m Janie,”
She introduced herself with a short wave as she twisted her long,
curly, red hair into a bun behind her head. “It’s nice to meet you.
You share a striking resemblance to your sister. But where she’s
exceptionally beautiful, you are exceptionally man beautiful, which
means you would not look attractive dressed up as
woman.”

I knew Janie, so I knew she
didn’t mean anything by this
at
all
. She frequently made observations out
loud that most people merely thought…quietly…in their head…where
those thoughts should be.

Roscoe sat up straighter and leaned forward,
his voice infused with Roscoe-swagger. “Hey, nice to meet you.”

“
Down, boy.” Sandra
laughed and indicated Janie with her chin. “You don’t want to mess
around in the strawberry jam. Her husband is big and scary and
makes people disappear on Fridays, or really any day of the
week.”

“
He’s not so bad.” This
statement came from Fiona, the most levelheaded and also the oldest
of our group, though only by a few years. She’d gone to school for
engineering, but then left the world of work to become a stay at
home mom.

“
He’s terrifying,” Nico
said, causing everyone to laugh. I could see he was crocheting;
both he and Janie crochet while the rest of us knit.

“
Hello, Nicoletta.” I
waved at him. We called him Nicoletta so he would feel like one of
the girls. It didn’t help, however. No one could ever mistake Nico
for being one of the girls.

“
Hi, Ashley.” Nico
returned my wave with a twinkly-eyed smile. “Marie is right, it’s
good to see your face. I miss your dairy farm
analogies.”

Before I could retort, Roscoe abruptly stood
and darted out of the room. I frowned after his retreating form
then shrugged, a bit perplexed by his sudden departure, but not
curious enough to find out why he left so fast.

Just then, Kat’s voice
sounded over the speaker of my laptop. “Oh my goodness gracious,
look who it is. Fancy Yarn McGee!”

I glanced at the screen
and saw Kat standing at the edge of the frame, her hands holding
two glasses of wine.

“
What are you talking
about?”

“
That’s my new name for
you after raiding your yarn stash. Do you have any acrylic yarn in
your stash? Anything synthetic? Or will only luxury fibers do?” Kat
poked fun at me, obviously having dug through my yarn stash when
she stopped by my apartment to water my plants. I didn’t mind the
teasing at all, but the behavior was very unusual for her.
Typically, she was reserved and quiet. It was actually really nice
to see her breaking out of her shell; it only took her four
years.

“
That’s reverse
yarn-snobbery, and I will not justify your questioning with an
answer.”

Kat laughed, took a swig
of her red wine, and claimed the empty spot next to Marie. “Fair
enough. Seriously though, I totally stole some of your yarn. And
your lifesize cutout of Charlie Hunnam says hi.”

Before I could respond, I
felt something hit me in the head, something unsubstantial. I
turned and glanced behind the couch and saw a plastic cup on the
floor. Lifting my eyes to the doorway of the kitchen, I found Beau
and Roscoe standing there, out of the frame of my
webcam.

I glanced at the cup then
back at them, one of my eyebrows lifted.

They waved their arms
frantically, indicating that I should join them in the kitchen, but
said nothing aloud.

I turned back to the
webcam, sighed, and announced, “Sorry, I’ll be right back. Two of
my hillbilly brothers want to play charades in the
kitchen.”

“
Is it hillbilly
charades?” Marie asked, her eyes on her knitting.

“
What is hillbilly
charades?” Janie perked up.

Sandra provided a
definition that was only mildly offensive. “It’s where the male
players have to be drunk on moonshine and are only allowed to give
hints by playing different tempos on a banjo.”

“
Or a jug. They can also
give hints by playing on a jug,” Fiona added.

“
And the
answer is always the movie,
Deliverance.
” This gem came from
Nico.

“
Ha, ha. Very funny.” I
rolled my eyes.

“
Go right ahead,”
Elizabeth said, waving her hand in the air. “And while you’re up,
you might as well grab some red wine.”

“
We’ll miss you while
you’re gone, Ashley.” Nico grinned at me. He was really too
adorable. Like, illegal levels of adorable. Someone should be held
responsible for his adorableness in a court of law.

“
Agree!” This came from
Sandra. “Roses are red, violets are blue, rhyming is hard.
Wine.”

Laughing at her nonsense,
I placed my knitting to the side and padded to the kitchen. My
mission was two-fold: berate my brothers for throwing plastic cups
at my head and find wine. I wasn’t even sure we had wine. It
suddenly occurred to me that I’d gone an entire month without red
wine.

That was just not
healthy.

As soon as I was within three steps of the
entrance, Beau reached out and grabbed my wrist, pulling me into
the kitchen.

“
Ashley Austen Winston.”
His voice was a harsh whisper. “Do you know Nico Moretti? I demand
you answer me now.”

I assumed Beau meant Nico,
Elizabeth’s husband, because Nicoletta and Nico Moretti were in
fact the same person.

I gave my brother a look that I hoped
conveyed the extreme nature of my irritation. “Beauford Fitzgerald
Winston, you do not make demands of me. Not ever. You apologize for
this appalling behavior.”

Roscoe darted forward, his eyes wide and
accusatory. “Ashley Austen Winston! How could you not tell us?”

“
It was none of your
business, Roscoe Orwell Winston.”

“
You
know Nico Moretti, Ashley Austen Winston. You
know
him. And he’s
hilarious.” Roscoe threw his hands up.

“
Do either of you know if
we have any wine?”

“
Wine…? Wine? You want to
talk about wine right now, Ashley Austen?” Beau shook his head at
me and huffed. “I feel like I can’t trust you anymore.”

“
Beauford Fitzgerald
Winston, you are being silly.” Then, a thought occurred to me. My
eyes narrowed as I surveyed them both. “Listen, if you can find me
or go get me some red wine, I’ll introduce you to Nico Moretti. Do
we have a deal?”

They both nodded in unison. “Deal.”

“
Good.” I spun on my heel
and walked out to the family room, intent on getting back to knit
night. I could hear the group’s chatter coming from the small
speakers of my laptop.

Just then, however, the
front door opened revealing my brother Duane and my childhood
friend / ex-boyfriend / now hottie police officer, Jackson James.
Duane looked anxious and was pushing his fingers through his hair.
Jackson was dressed in his police uniform, appearing much like he
had a few weeks ago when I’d seen him briefly at the ranger
cabin.

“
No harm, no foul, Duane,”
Jackson was saying, and I faltered a step, glancing between the two
of them.

Jackson’s eyes lit up when
he saw me. “Ashley!”

“
Jackson….” I blinked at
him then looked to Duane for a clue regarding what was going on.
Duane sighed and rolled his eyes.

Duane was not being
helpful.

Police Officer Jackson
stepped forward, a giant grin on his face, and reached for my
hands. “It’s good to see you, Ash.” His grin faded into an earnest
expression of concern. “How are you holding up?”

I blinked at him some
more, frankly startled by the sight of him. He was Jackson, but he
wasn’t Jackson, and I hadn’t thought about him in years.

“
Uh, fine. I mean, things
are fine. Well, you know, they’re as fine as can be expected.” I
stuttered and my eyes flickered to the laptop perched on the coffee
table. The group in Chicago could probably see and hear everything
that was happening right now in my family room.

“
I’m so sorry…about
everything.” Jackson said these words sincerely, gaining another
step forward before reaching out and clasping my hands. His brown
eyes held mine with such fixated concentration that I got the
feeling he was apologizing for more than what was currently going
on with my mother.

“
Thank you for your
concern, Jack. But Ashley’s got her family to support her. And I
don’t think now is a good time. So….” Duane came up next to me,
real close next to me, and crossed his arms, sticking his ginger
beard in Jackson’s handsome beardless face.

“
Duane Faulkner, I am
perfectly capable of speaking for myself.” I nudged my brother’s
shoulder and tugged at my hands.

Jackson didn’t release me
straightaway, hesitating for about a half second before loosening
his grip. He gave me his crooked grin, and his eyes were every
brown shade of hopeful.

“
Jackson….” I gave him a
reassuring smile. “What’s your availability look like this week?
I’d prefer not to leave the house, but I could make sandwiches. If
Momma is up to it, I’m sure she’d enjoy a visit.”

“
Oh sure, I’d like to see
her too. Let me give you my cell phone number.” He reached into his
pocket and pulled out a pen and paper.

I took advantage of the brief lull in
conversation to glance at my computer screen and had to fight
against an eye roll when I found my entire knitting group huddled
in front of the webcam watching what was going on in my Tennessee
family room with avid interest.

“
I found the wine!” Beau
came charging out of the kitchen grinning from ear to ear in
triumph and holding a small bottle in front of him.

I sighed. “Beau, that’s
red wine vinegar. That’s not red wine.”

“
It says red wine on it.”
He glanced between it and me. “What’s the difference?”

“
I told you so, dummy!”
This shout came from Roscoe in the kitchen. “She isn’t going to
drink that. It’s for salad dressing and marinating.”

“
We
can’t all go to college and drink fancy wine, Roscoe Orwell. Some
of us
work
for a living!” Beau shouted back, then frowned at Jackson as
he handed me a folded piece of paper. “What’s this? What are you
doing here, Jack? What’s this paper?”

Beau and Duane stood on either side of me,
red topped and bearded columns of suspicion and displeasure.

Duane snatched the paper
from my fingers and handed it to Beau. I squeaked a shocked
protest, but Duane cut me off. “Jackson, what is your middle name?”
he demanded.

Jackson frowned at Duane
and said, “Uh…John.”

“
Give me that,” I said,
reaching over Beau’s broad chest to snatch the paper
back.

“
Well, Jackson John James,
I don’t appreciate you pulling me over tonight—for no reason—just
so you could weasel yourself into this house.”

“
Duane Faulkner!” I
scolded. “Quit being ugly—that is quite enough!” As I said this,
the front door opened and in walked Jethro, Billy, and—of
course—Drew.

I groaned and closed my
eyes. Paired with my frustration was also a galvanizing
restlessness, because Drew was here. He was in the room with me,
breathing the same air. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. As
much as I wanted to keep them focused on my oldest brother, they
instinctively searched and found Drew.

His face was devoid of
expression, which meant he looked annoyed. His eyes flickered over
my body once as though checking me for injury. It took all my power
of sanity to extract my gaze from Drew and pay attention to my
brothers.

“
What’s going on?” Jethro
spoke first.

“
Jackson is giving Ashley
his phone number, that’s what.” Beau said this like Jackson was
giving me a body to hide.

“
And they’re making plans
to have sandwiches,” Duane added, crossing his arms over his
chest.

I groaned again, “Oh
brother…”

“
Yes?” Jethro, Billy,
Duane, and Beau all said in unison.

“
Listen to me, you all
need to back off and mind your manners. Jackson is an old friend.
It is normal for two friends to engage in discourse!”

“
Just as long as it isn’t
intercourse,” Billy muttered under his breath.

I sucked in a sharp gasp. “William
Shakespeare Winston!”

He gave me a scowl. “Don’t
look at me like that. We were all doing just fine before you showed
up. Now that you’re back, we suddenly have the attention of local
law enforcement? We all know why Jackson John James is here, and
it’s not for sandwiches.”

I heard some commotion
coming from the speakers of my laptop and glanced at the
screen.