Page 4 of When the Smoke Clears

“I’m doing well.”

“The food smells amazing. Need a hand with anything?”

Dalton moves with purpose, slicing into a loaf of garlic bread with well-practiced precision. “No, I’m good.”

The room hums with a laid-back energy until my father strides in, his voice echoing as he talks on his cellphone. The sight of him in a crisp, tailored suit makes a rope of tension crawl up my spine.

Even as a prominent businessman and local city council member, his suit is out of place in Wildhaven. Here, that attire is reserved for funerals, not everyday affairs, unless you’re Nathaniel Wild.

“Get it done,” he snaps, his voice sharp and impatient, before sliding the phone into his pocket.

“Luke, how are you?” His arms remain by his sides, making no move to hug me or even extend a hand for a shake. His affection is a rare commodity, reserved strictly for the women in the family, and even then, it is not often shared.

“I’m fine, Dad. You?”

“I’m working on acquiring a hotel in Cedar Hollow.” He delivers the news with an air of businesslike detachment, as if discussing the weather.

My eyebrows shoot up. “Business outside Wildhaven? Why?”

He scoffs. “Because there’s money to be made. You’d understand that if you had any interest in the family businesses.”

It took him all of two minutes to dive into criticizing my career choices, as if he’d been rehearsing the speech. My father is vocal about his desire for me to join him in steering the family enterprise, but my passion has never aligned with that path.

Chase intervenes, flashing a confident grin. “Well, you’ve got me, Dad. I’m all about the business.”

My father raises an eyebrow, skepticism etched into his features. “You’re all about hunting anything in a skirt, Chase, which is precisely why no one takes you seriously.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Mom says, clapping her hands together with a determined smile. “No more business talk. Let’s have a nice family meal.”

The meal proceeds peacefully, with side conversations and laughter throughout dinner. It holds until dessert arrives when Eden brings out a tray with a sugary, doughy-looking concoction, and my father’s eyes narrow, focusing on me.

“So, Gretchen Tanner died today,” he says, his voice cutting through the room like a knife. It’s not a question. The gossip mill must be working overtime.

Sav gasps, her hand flying to her chest.

I stare at the waffle pattern of the tablecloth. ‘’It’s very sad.’’

Eden places her small hand on mine. “You dated Isla for years. This must be tough on you.’’

“Gretchen hasn’t been a part of my life in a decade.”

‘’Still,” she persists. ‘’You must have feelings about her mother dying.’’

“I feel that I don’t want to talk about it.”

My father leans back in his chair, his arms crossed. “Well, it’s no big loss. I mean, that woman was a mess her entire life.”

My mother’s eyes widen as she lets out a sharp shriek. “Nathaniel! That is not a kind thing to say.”

He hesitates, his expression softening, but he makes it a point not to apologize. He never does. “I mean that she always struggled with something. Too much alcohol. Gambling. I’d imagine drugs as well.”

“She was actually turning her life around, Daddy,” Eden shares. “She would come into the bakery every so often, and she seemed like she was doing much better.”

I push back my chair with a slight scrape against the floor and stand, gathering my plate. “It’s none of our business. Please drop it.’’

A hush falls over the room. My father’s callousness, having ruined yet another family gathering, prompts us to part ways after pitching in to clean the kitchen.

I drive down the dusty road to the lake, my sanctuary when my mind needs clarity. Habit. Or punishment. Same thing, most days.