The Edge of Misery: The Mitchel Brothers Series Book Two

11

After the Evans's wagon sped off the property at an eyebrow-raising pace, everyone gathered around the kitchen table for a late dinner-turned-wedding feast, complete with four apple pies Emmaline had baked to celebrate the special day.

"Why four?" Wren asked as she leaned in close to her husband after they finished their meal and watched Emmaline cut into the first pie, her brow puckering in a frown. "We can't possibly need—"

"Oh, yes, we can," Declan said, surveying the sugar-topped, double-crusted desserts and licking his lips in anticipation.

Wren giggled, "I take it you enjoy apple pie?"

"He'd survive on it if he could," Wolstan chuckled from across the table.

"But four?" Wren asked. "I'm partial to apple pie m'self, but—"

"It's out of necessity," Mae said, leveling a teasing yet disapproving stare at Declan as she received the first serving of pie and began the chain of passing each plate of dessert around the table until everyone had one. "Because that one gets territorial and downright feral every time Mama makes one—counting each remaining slice, taking inventory of every crumb, threatening retribution bordering on criminal if a single morsel's—"

"Oh, Mae," Declan laughingly groaned, spearing his first forkful, "I'm not that bad."

"He is," Wolstan nodded. "That's why Berta started baking me my own pie and hiding it, so you could have your remaining slices."

Declan frowned, his loaded fork suspended between his plate and mouth, "Berta made you your very own?"

Wolstan nodded, his lips curling in a wolfish grin. "Jealous much?"

"Yes."

"Good," Wolstan purred.

Emmaline, Emerson, and Mae chuckled.

"Who's Berta?" Wren quietly asked before taking her first bite.

"Our cook back in Tennessee," Declan whispered with a dramatic forlorn sigh, plopping his forkful in his mouth and quietly moaning in delight while he chewed.

Then after swallowing, he glanced at Wren, his cheeks flushing a delicate pink as he winked at her and continued, "She and her husband Anson thought about following us west with their little girl but, in the end, decided to stay in Chattanooga for the time being—Mama, you've outdone yourself. This is delightful."

"Why thank you, honey," Emmaline beamed, taking a dainty bite and closing her eyes with a sigh.

Wolstan loaded his fork with a healthy portion of apples and buttery crust as he waggled his eyebrows and grinned in triumph, "Sure is, Mama, and I'm looking forward to having an entire pie all to myself—"

"Sharing a pie with your wife, you mean," Mae laughingly corrected with a kiss to his lips.

"That's right, sugar," he grinned, then turned his mischievous gaze on Declan, "I am tempted, however, to hide the old miser's and make him pay for all my years of suffering."

Turning to Wren, Declan nodded at Wolstan with his chin and muttered, "He has a very punchable face sometimes, doesn't he?"

"Most brothers do," Wren giggled as she speared another slice of apple and crust, loving the playful, curmudgeon side to her husband that came out every time his family goaded and teased him.

"Do I have a punchable face," Eldon scrunched his nose and chirped, his mouth covered in crumbs and sugar.

Wren turned to him and grinned as she shook her head, quick to assure, "No, of course not, baby goose—"