The Fate Date (Glengarry Curse #1)

3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Gavin

G areth’s tattooed forearms and muscular frame made him easy to spot at the arrivals gate. He tossed his duffel into the backseat of Gavin’s sedan and joined his brother in the front. “Good to see you, Gav.”

“Good to see you, too.” It truly was. Out of his three brothers, Gareth was the most grounded. There was definitely an increase in bickering around the family dinner table since Gareth had moved up north for fire season.

The Ottawa airport was designed to make a traveller feel like they’d landed in the tranquil Canadian wilderness. A tunnel of oak, pine and cedar lined the parkway in a deceiving Greenbelt until you bumped into the Parliament buildings downtown. But instead of turning towards civilization, Gavin signalled right and began their forty-minute journey south, towards Glengarry County. Towards home .

“How are you? How’s Mom? How’s the house?” Gareth peppered, distracting Gavin from his circling work thoughts.

“Work’s good, Mom’s fine, the house is…”

“Still falling apart?”

“Yeah.”

“It adds charm to the place,” Gareth said, channelling the optimism that Gavin wished he could share.

“If by charm you mean drafty, wet, and freezing, then sure. Yeah. ”

On the back roads, it didn’t take long for the space between the country houses to grow, replaced with alternating swaths of cornfields, dairy farms, and beaver ponds. The autumn colours peeked tentatively out from the trees, the brilliant shades of crimson and ochre in the late afternoon sun doing little to improve Gavin’s mood. The St. Lawrence River served as a beacon for the journey as they barrelled towards the cause of his anxiety.

“I’m having the roofers come out for a quote next week. It gets a bit complicated because it’s a historic building. Not to mention pricey,” he explained.

“Yeah, but what about the money Dad set aside for renovations? I know it’s ten years ago now, but you said you invested it, right? How much is left?” Gareth turned towards him, attention focused on Gavin, though his leg jiggled incessantly. Gareth had excelled in every sport in high school, but the one thing he couldn’t handle was sitting still.

“I’d have to check the latest statements. I don’t know off the top of my head.” Gavin shifted in his own seat, though for different reasons.

“Well, let us know if it’s not enough. I’m sure between the four of us we can figure it out.” Gareth pressed against his seatbelt, re-adjusting it with a grimace.

“How’s work for you?” Gavin asked, more gravelly than usual.

“Good. I’m actually…” He raised his hips and took his phone out of his pant pocket. “I have an interview with Ottawa Fire Service on Monday before I head back north.”

Gavin glanced at Gareth. He hadn’t unlocked his phone, but rather was frowning at it like it had cheered for the Toronto Maple Leafs.

“Congrats, man.”

His brother had moved up north to get more experience before applying for the competitive position in Ottawa. Gavin didn’t have the most socially adept personality, as was made painfully obvious to him this afternoon, but even he could tell that something seemed off. “You don’t sound very excited.”

“No, I am, it’s just…” Gareth pressed forward, straining against the seatbelt again.

Dread prickled Gavin's back. Was something wrong? Was Gareth ill? “What is it?”

“It might mean being separated from someone I care about is all.”

“Oh.”

It was an unwritten rule among the Glengarry brothers to avoid talking about relationships. It was generally assumed that if they didn’t address the giant elephant in their love lives, it didn’t exist. Which it didn’t. The curse wasn’t real.

“I’m afraid I’m not much help in that department, brother.”

Gareth covered his phone with his large palm, his hand vibrating with his leg movement underneath. “No, so far we’ve all managed to dodge the Glengarry Family Curse, huh.” He laughed humourlessly.

Gavin hissed, as if stung by the words. “Let’s not talk about it, except to say, if we are truly cursed, I’m sure you’ll find a way to work it out. There’s no harm in going to the interview and keeping your options open.”

Gareth sat back and took a deep breath. “Thanks, man. It feels good to talk to someone who understands the situation.” The curse was a looming force in all their lives. Something they had been brought up to believe as truth, though it made no logical sense whatsoever. Gavin was firmly in the “it’s bullshit” camp. He certainly wouldn’t fall in love with someone because of a ridiculous fated hex on the family. If he could risk a long-term partner, he would be sure to have a long list of qualifications to ensure compatibility. Magic not being one of them.

Gareth lunged forward in his chair and tucked his phone back in his pocket. Gavin was genuinely worried about the seatbelt snapping at this point .

“How’s work?” Gareth asked, much more chipper.

Gavin gripped the wheel. He had spent the drive to the airport grappling with the problem he’d manufactured for himself. Had he been alone with Ian in his office, he might be able to salvage the situation and come clean about his fake girlfriend. But Alfred’s presence made the option impossible. He’d probably already sent out a company-wide meme about it.

Gavin briefly considered that if he had a fictional girlfriend, maybe he could also plot her fake death as well? She was completely made-up, but creating her imaginary persona and planning her demise all in the span of a half hour seemed a bit dark, even for him. Though it would give him a ready-made excuse for his surliness at the retreat. People would be so fearful of bringing up his dearly departed, that he wouldn’t even have to contend with the lie and could avoid small talk altogether. A heroic death, a few fake tears could solve all of Gavin’s problems—provided he got the job, of course.

“Work’s great,” he replied.

He briefly considered airing his predicament to Gareth. Maybe his brother would have another strategy to win over the board? Compassion and teamwork came effortlessly to him —like Ted Lasso, if he could squat 405 lbs.

But Gavin didn’t want to encourage questions, especially if they led to ones he couldn’t answer. His secrets were so entrenched in years of lies he wouldn’t know where to begin, nor did he want to admit how his shortcomings would yet again impact their family finances. It wasn’t fair to put his burdens on everyone else, especially since he’d gone and made it worse for himself this afternoon.

His guilt was not helped by their current surroundings, memories he was forced to relive every time he drove past in the name of motor safety. First, was the turn off for Long Sault, where his dad would take the four of them biking along the paths for ice cream. Next, the Lost Villages Museum, the relocated pioneer buildings from flooded communities in better shape than his own family home. The signpost for Ingleside appeared next, a historic name for an idyllic place where his present self didn’t belong.

“I’m being considered for a promotion at work, too,” Gavin said as they neared the turn for their dirt road.

“No way, Gav, that’s awesome. What’s the job?”

“CFO—Chief Financial Officer.”

“You’d have to be a shoo-in for sure.”

“There are a few competitive candidates. It’s not set in stone,” he let himself admit.

Gareth slapped him lightly on the back, then gripped his shoulder, which Gavin found oddly reassuring. “You’ve been at the company forever—they couldn’t ask for a more dedicated employee. And I assume you’re good at your job?” Gareth removed his hand when he saw the approaching driveway.

“Obviously.” For a moment, Gavin let himself breathe into the eased tension in his shoulder, but with the crunch of gravel under the tires, it sprung back into its contorted position.

The holes in the red brickwork of the old farmhouse and the wavy shingled roof stuck out mockingly. Gareth clicked off his seatbelt, and yanked his duffel from the backseat, not even waiting until the car had stopped before opening the door. Gavin, meanwhile, parked next to the run-down garden shed and turned his attention to the daunting number of tasks that needed to be finished before the first snowfall came. His mom would be anxious to get the party started, but he wanted to move a few pots into the shed that were too heavy for her. He could trust Gareth to give her the perfect hug. Gilbert would buy the perfect gift. Gabe would let their mother fuss over him. But Gavin took care of the little things. Finishing up and heading towards the kitchen, he tripped on another loose board on the porch, and made a mental note to oil the hinges on the door before he left. In fact, he should really start a to-do list—

His mother interrupted his mental catalogue, her portly figure pulling him into a hug as soon as he entered the kitchen. He bent his knees to return it.

“Mom, I told you to leave the patio furniture—” Being on the waitlist for a hip replacement, it might still be months until she got the call. Gavin knew she was in daily pain and his mother didn’t need an injury to add to her list of worries along with the renovations needed for her to continue living in this ill-suited home.

“I’m fine, Gavin, really.” She dipped her head away from Gareth, “But did you happen to get those quotes from the contractors you were waiting on?” she inquired quietly.

“I’m preparing the final budget.” Gavin tried to smile, though it felt like he was pushing the corners of his lips through sludge. It wasn’t technically a lie. But it wasn’t the answer he’d wanted to give his mother for her birthday either.

Her face brightened and Gavin’s smile collapsed entirely, replaced with the weighty guilt he was ready to set down. Instead, he’d added a presentation, corporate retreat and fake girlfriend to the bulk.

“Come and sit down.” His mother gestured to the table. “I was just telling Gareth about this evening’s entertainment.”

Chili simmered in the slow cooker set out on the wooden countertops and the scent of sweet cornbread muffins filled the kitchen. His mom searched the paint-chipped white cupboards. “I went to visit my friend Eugenia’s shop. Well…” She came off her tiptoes and looked towards Gavin, her face falling. “My late friend Eugenia’s shop, I should say.” She shook her head. “They’ve got quite the selection of herbs that I’m not able to grow here…” Gavin came round to grab the bag of chips she was trying to reach. “Thank you, dear.” She snatched the chips out of his hands and Gavin went to sit down at the table. “Anyway, I ran into her daughter. She’s a talented astrologer and tarot card reader and I invited her to the party.”

“Sorry, what?” Gavin asked.

“She’s going to read our fortunes, dear.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath.

Gareth gave him a kick under the table and gave his mother an awkward thumbs up. “Sounds great, Mom.”

His mom fancied herself a bit of a “green witch”. Gavin didn’t understand it, but he liked that it made her happy. Though his mother’s free-spirited nature meant she was a prime candidate for someone with a dubious profession like “astrologer” to take advantage of. He pulled out his phone to research how much tarot readings cost.

She plunked a bowl of chili down on the table for Gareth. “I think it’s going to be fun. Gilbert will love it, I’m sure.” That only irritated Gavin further. The spitting image of their father, his middle brother had sandy curls, blue eyes, and was infectiously fun. But his actions, especially as he grew older, were usually irresponsible and self-centered. “She’s really quite pretty too,” his mother added, in a not-so-subtle hint.

Gareth touched the side of his nose so only Gavin could see, a gesture that indicated Gavin was the unlucky one to field his mother’s meddling.

“I’m sure she and Gilbert will get along just fine. Both charlatans and full of tales,” Gavin said.

His mother banged a bowl of chili down on the table in front of him, “Try to have an open mind Gavin. The truth is, I felt a little bad for her. Her mom passed away a few months ago, and she inherited the shop. It wasn’t terribly busy the few times I went in. It was all very hard on Sabrina. Her mother had Lewy body dementia and…” Her voice faltered a bit. “She’s a doll. You boys will love her. Everyone loves Sabrina.”

Gavin put his phone away. He supposed he could at least reserve judgment until he met the performer. Her situation sounded not unlike his own. Not just the grief of losing a loved one—but also dealing with all the complex finances that they left behind.

Besides, after this afternoon, it’s not like he had a leg to stand on. He glanced around the room at the curling wallpaper, water-stained ceiling and warped floorboards. He could add his promotion, and the commitments he’d made his mother, to the list of things falling apart around him now.

At least this woman’s placating predictions of a brighter future would make his mother happy. Because maybe their family circumstances weren’t the only thing they shared.

It would seem they had lies in common too.

***

S abrina’s voice wavered on the last line of Seasons of Love , after Gilbert’s insistence on a singalong. Fortunately for her ears, Gabe turned onto a long gravel driveway that led to the cutest red-brick, gabled farmhouse, which was straight out of Canadian Living . Gabe helped Sabrina scramble down as she took in the home. Garden beds were being prepped for the long winter that hinted in the air. There was an impressive herb garden surrounding the old stone patio, the furniture stacked to the side. She ran to keep up with the gigantic men, her leopard print kitten heels clicking on the light blue wooden steps and well-loved front porch that was cottage-core perfection. The gold, orange, and pink of the sunset bled into the lavender in the field. Its fragrant perfume hung in the air. Over the crest of the hill was the St. Lawrence River.

“It’s stunning,” she whispered as Gabe held open the squeaky spring-hinged door.

She stepped inside, and the floorboards creaked in greeting. Well, that and a rumbly voice admonishing, “You’re late. ”

She let Gabe go ahead of her, taking in the row of family photos. She recognized a young Gladys and her late husband, as well as the smiles of four boys lining the hallway. She saw hints of the men she’d met this evening in their faces, but the photos seemed to have stopped before puberty had them in their clutches.

The jumble of deep voices grew louder as she wandered towards the excitement.

“How can we be late? We are the party.”

“We agreed on 7pm.”

“Well, if Gabe didn’t insist on driving 40 kilometres per hour down the 135…”

“Give it a rest you two.”

“Whoa man, your hair’s so long.”

“Still having trouble getting laid, then?”

“Fuck off, Gilbert, the ladies love it.”

“Boys,” Gladys admonished.

Sabrina entered the kitchen and took in the scene while the men continued bickering. Holy hell, Gladys had some good-looking sons. The one closest to Sabrina, with the longer hair, had to be Gareth. He was the shortest of the four, which is to say, still giant, probably just under six feet if she had to guess. She became, admittedly, a bit distracted when he turned towards her: the sleeves of his green t-shirt stretched across his muscular, tattooed arm to great effect.

But his movement revealed the other brother—this had to be Ebenezer. Sabrina’s mouth went dry. Her new working theory was that the more unfortunate the name, the hotter the son. Dark hair with a bit of a wave, strong jaw, and a navy-blue high-necked sweater. Her belly did a swoop of approval.

Did she have a turtleneck kink?

He stood in the corner, slightly removed from the rest of them, watching his mother and Gilbert chatting at the dining table with a hawk-like intensity. He looked like Henry Cavill all buttoned up and bristly in Enola Holmes . If she had any karmic goodwill left in the universe, she silently prayed he had a butt chin. Lift your head, lift your head…

His gaze lifted to hers. And her breath caught.

She didn’t notice the jaw. It was his steely eyes that caught her attention, roving up and down her body. She felt hot under his stare and then cold when it left. She gripped the wooden countertop before her legs gave out.

“Sabrina.” Gladys stood and floated across the room, beaming.

Sabrina forced a deep breath into her lungs. Damn, that was weird. The man was objectively handsome, but she hadn’t felt a reaction to someone like that in a long time—three years, to be exact. Part of surviving the time between her mother’s decline and death had meant numbing her feelings. The strategy had trickled into other parts of her life to disastrous consequences—of the broken engagement variety. She’d been slowly opening up again, trying to reconnect with friends, not realizing how far out to sea she’d travelled in her little one-person lifeboat. She’d forgotten how yummy breathless magnetism felt.

Her eyes sought his again, desperate for another hit, which is when Gladys swept her into a hug. The wisps of the woman’s white bob tickled her neck, just like her own mother’s used to. It was another painful reminder of the hazards of vulnerability—when she opened herself up, grief was waiting right there to embrace her. Sabrina could handle the near-constant daily ache that followed her around. She’d come to expect it. But grief wasn’t linear and had exceptionally shit timing. She hated these moments: hearing a song that reminded her of her mother playing on the radio; a customer purchasing her favourite candle scent; being greeted by a mother with a perfect hug. She melted into Gladys’s arms a little more, trying to stop her misbehaving tear ducts from betraying her, to no avail.

Gladys pulled back. “Oh, my darling.” And she pulled her in again .

“Sorry.” Sabrina’s nose joined in with an embarrassing snot fest, and she debated wiping it with the sleeve of her cardigan.

“Oh, don’t be, here.” Gladys handed Sabrina an embroidered handkerchief. God, this woman was the coolest.

“I really am happy to see you.” Sabrina tried to recover as she blew her nose, attempting delicacy. The sons seemed to have vanished into another room, as though her tears were man repellers, and Gladys pulled her to the table.

Sabrina took some deep breaths and tried to focus on Gladys, who was being as sweet as always. The older woman complimented Sabrina’s brooch and asked after the shop. Sabrina lied and said things were great, then asked about the garden and Gladys’s volunteer programs. At some point, Cable-Knit Ebenezer came in and deposited a pot of tea on the table and disappeared without another word.

“And how about school? Are you going to go back and finish that semester?”

Sabrina made a show of pouring her tea, then milk, and finally stirring before she answered. “No, I don’t think so. Trying to focus on the shop for now.”

It was a half-truth. The reality being that her professor had told her she was wasting her time. Besides, how the hell did Sabrina think she was supposed to get a degree in business if she couldn’t even keep one afloat?

Gilbert burst into the kitchen then, saving her from having to explain further to Gladys. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to celebrate.” He pulled out a stack of atrocious animal party hats from his bag. “Here, Ma, what do you want to be—an elephant or a crocodile?”

“Definitely the crocodile.” Gladys secured the hat on her head, the thin white elastic digging into her chin.

Sabrina took the elephant. The other men rejoined the kitchen party and Gareth, clad in a leopard hat, stepped forwards .

“I don’t think I introduced myself. I’m Gareth.” He stuck out his hand and Sabrina shook it.

“Sabrina.”

He let go, and she wiggled her fingers to return the circulation to them.

“Like the teenage witch?”

“Yes. My mom was a pop culture junkie.” She rolled her eyes, squashing the tears that threatened to make a reappearance.

He flashed a dimpled smile. What was in the water here?

Ebenezer stood in the open wooden archway that led to a sitting room. He seemed tense, which was surprising. Being home with all his family, tucked into the cozy farmhouse, celebrating—she would have thought it would put anyone at ease. But not him.

His gaze flicked to her, and again her stomach jumped. He was assessing her. Having grown up as the daughter of a witch, she was familiar with this sort of suspicious judgment, though it didn’t make it any easier.

She’d loved visiting Gladys, but it was time to put on her business hat—well, over top of her elephant hat. Given that Ebenezer was her only shred of a chance at making this a networking opportunity, she decided to take the lead. She would not disappoint her mother. She would put her best elephant foot forward.

She marched up, looked him in the eye, and held out her hand. His grip was like plunging herself into a bucket of ice water, so cold it almost felt…hot? It sent shivers up her arm, and she pulled out of his grasp. “And you must be Ebenezer,” she said, strangely breathless.

She heard Gilbert laugh, Gladys scoff, and Gareth said, “You’re such a dick, Gilbert.”

Sabrina’s insides froze. Her outsides did too, unfortunately. She just stood there, mouth open, arm outstretched, like a Pinterest-fail ice sculpture .

“It’s Gavin, actually,” he corrected her, drawing her gaze to his marble expression. She didn’t think it was possible, but it grew colder, like she had just confirmed all his worst suspicions, like a moron.

She turned to Gilbert; his shoulders shook silently with mirth at the exchange, eyes trained on his brother.

Gabe ran a hand through his hair. “I thought you knew it was a joke, I didn’t think…” he trailed off as he looked between his brothers. His face turned the worst shade of red yet.

Of course his name wasn’t Ebenezer. They all started with G. Still equally horrible—Gladys really did their children dirty on that one. If Sabrina was part of the family, her name would be Gullible.

With the remaining courage she possessed, she turned back to Gavin’s unimpressed face. “So sorry. I…misunderstood. I…sorry.” Sabrina hoped that when she was old and grey, she would laugh about this moment with her friends. Sitting on the terrace of her Italian villa, which she could most definitely afford with the retirement savings she intended to start as soon as possible. It didn’t take the sting of embarrassment out of the moment right now though. No, right now, it felt like the last wisp of hope to save her mother’s shop had evaporated, right alongside her dignity.