Page 10 of Bend Toward the Sun
CHAPTER THREE
Harry
On the pond along the eastern edge of the Brady family’s new property, Harry and his brother Duncan sat on a bench at the end of an old dock. The wood felt smooth with age and warm to the touch, like it had banked some of the day’s late summer sun. Harry breathed in the mineral tang of mud and the fresh smell of the water. The air felt lighter and cleaner in his lungs than the air in Los Angeles ever had.
Five years he’d been gone. He’d missed the East Coast. Missed his family.
“Glad you could get here in time for this,” Duncan said. “Means a lot to Ma and Dad.”
Harry’s answering smile was humorless. “My schedule was pretty open.”
“You know they used to call housewarming parties ‘Food Pounders’ back in the day?”
Harry raised a brow.
“Sometimes they just called them ‘Poundings,’” Duncan said.
“Who the hell is ‘they’?” Harry asked.
Duncan shrugged. “I dunno. Horny old ladies.”
Harry smirked. “Sounds like your kind of party.”
They laughed, then went quiet for a while.
Duncan broke the silence. “Ma and Dad have lost their fucking minds, you know that?”
“Can’t be that bad,” Harry said.
Duncan grunted. “Wait until you see those vineyards in the daylight.”
The elder Bradys had closed on the property just last week. Decades ago, a young Gia Brady had grown up at Vega Vineyards—her grandparents’ vineyard in northwest Spain. Now Vega was a million-dollar operation run by Harry’s aunt Renata. Ma fancied she knew winecraft via some kind of mystical genetic osmosis, the same way her sister did. Said it was in her blood. And now that she and Dad were retired, Ma decided she wanted to make wine, and run a bed-and-breakfast. They were gambling a huge chunk of their retirement savings on the prospect.
“Dad can handle it,” Harry said. Will Brady was an architectural wizard, competent from blueprint to construction. He’d never seen Dad attempt to undertake anything he didn’t finish with grace and style.
Duncan leaned out to look at Harry in the darkness. “You haven’t heard?” he laughed. “Dad has decided his role in this new Brady enterprise is headchef. Head chef—at the bed-and-breakfast that doesn’t exist yet.”
“No shit?”
“No shit. He’s been watching too muchGreat British Bake Off.”
“Still working out what he wants to be when he grows up,” Harry said.
Again, they laughed.
“I’m doing all the general contracting.” Duncan popped knuckles on his big hands, and hesitated. “They asked me to fully take over Brady Brothers, I couldn’t say no. Nate and Maren are handling the business stuff.”
Harry knew this thing would succeed because Ma and Dad had each other and the family behind them. The only thing he’d ever wanted more than a career in medicine was a family like the one Gia and Will Brady had created—an indelible, rock-solid partnership. They loved each other with a luminous, tangible kind of affection, the kind where they’d simply share space, and the weight and warmth of their love would overflow to everyone around them.
This place was where his parents would grow old. Where Harry would see his brothers and his sister, Arden, on holidays. It was where, someday, he would bring his wife and children to visit their grandparents and cousins, to build new family traditions. To play that ridiculous game of Team Tag on nights like this.
Wife. Children.
Well, hell.
Christ, his life felt so unrecognizable now. His big family felt like a brand-new puzzle, and he was the final unplaced piece. He belonged in the Harry-shaped space, but the fit was snug now, like a bit of extra effort was necessary to notch him properly into his spot.
Party sounds drifted down the hill, muted and merry.