The Gratitude Guarantee (Boyfriend in the Bargain #4)

17. Zach

17

ZACH

I t’s a good thing I’m used to long days of manual labor, because that’s what Thanksgiving with the Hartfords is. Between the run this morning, cooking and doing dishes until one o’clock—with an impromptu speech thrown in for good measure—and pitching in to put up all the tables and chairs once the meal is over, I’m ready for a break.

Alas, it is not to be.

No sooner do we finish serving the many families who came to the church—which was a much bigger crowd than I expected—than it’s time to start cooking for our own dinner. Brenna must sense my overwhelm because she tells me I don’t have to help if I don’t want to, citing my status as a guest.

“But a real boyfriend would help, wouldn’t he?” I ask her when I’m sure no one is listening.

“If he was a good one, he would.” Her smile is teasing, but since I intend to be the best fake boyfriend she’s ever had, I prepare myself for a few more hours in the kitchen.

“I’m the official holiday baker,” Brenna informs me. “Which means you will be the baker’s assistant. It’s our job to make dinner rolls and dressing. We’ll start with a pan of cornbread.” Brenna takes in my confused expression. “You know, for the dressing?”

“I’ll be honest, I’ve only ever seen it made from one of those bags you get at the store,” I confess. My mom was a lot of things, but a chef wasn’t one of them. We never went hungry and had many satisfying meals that she assembled from boxes that originated in the freezer or pantry. “You’ll have to walk me through this.”

She pats my arm. “Don’t worry. Just follow my instructions and you’ll be just fine.”

Cornbread, as it turns out, is very simple to make. Brenna has me stir as she adds ingredients, then we transfer everything to a cast iron pan and put it in the oven. While it bakes, she teaches me the ins and outs of making yeast rolls from scratch.

All around us, the kitchen is bustling with activity as everyone chats and cooks. When Isaac and Sara arrive with their twins in tow, the commotion increases even more as they run around dispensing hugs to all their aunts, cousins, and grandparents. The two boys stop briefly when they get to me, exchanging a look before wrapping themselves around my legs, much to everyone’s delight.

All in all, it’s a cozy feeling that I quite enjoy, augmented by an overcast sky that makes the snug ambiance of the house feel even more inviting. When the combination of people and cooking raises the temperature above what’s comfortable, Elaine cracks a window and props the back door open to let the heat out and the cool in, much to everyone’s relief.

“We’ll leave it open as long as it doesn’t rain,” she promises as a gust of wind brings the scent of an impending storm.

The pancakes we had this morning are long gone, and I’m starving by the time the food is ready. The only thing that’s kept me alive this long was the warm apple cider that Elaine passed around and the deviled egg Ben slipped me when he nicked one for himself. We might have started out on the wrong foot with the whole suspected burglary thing, but we’re bros now. I don’t know why the Hartford women insist on hoarding the food until it’s all served at once, but it’s bonded the two of us.

Elaine and Heather take charge of arranging the food on the table while everyone claims a chair. The massive dining table seats ten comfortably, and Kevin carries in two extra chairs to squeeze in so that we can all sit together.

Once everyone is settled, Kevin bows his head. “Dear God, we thank you?—”

A boom of thunder shakes the house and everything goes dark.

“Well, this is unexpected,” Isaac quips just before Derek and Dillon start to wail.

Several cell phone flashlights come on over the next few seconds, and Elaine stands. “Everyone stay right here. Kevin, help me bring in my oil lamp and some candles.”

At first, I think I’m imagining the delight I detect in her pronouncement until Brenna nudges me with her elbow. “She loves an excuse to use her lamp.”

My stomach grumbles loudly in response. Brenna’s hand snakes out and she palms a yeast roll, which she splits in half below the edge of the table. She passes me a piece and takes a bite of her own.

“You probably just saved my life,” I tell her around a bite of the fluffiest roll I’ve ever eaten. “These are amazing.” Everyone else is so busy trying to calm the twins that no one notices our snack. I share a secret smile with Brenna as I swallow the last bite.

Kevin returns with a tall, antique hurricane lamp, delicately embellished with painted flowers around the bottom. He positions the lamp in the middle of the table between the turkey and the mashed potatoes and pulls a matchbox out of his pocket. Elaine leans around her family members, strategically placing candles as well. In a matter of minutes, the table glows with soft yellow light.

“Now, then,” Elaine says as she takes her seat again. “Where were we?”

“We were about to eat,” Kenzie says, the longing in her voice plain. It seems I’m not the only starving soul in this room.

“Then let’s get to it.” Kevin bows his head and starts again on the blessing, offering a short, genuine prayer of gratitude for food and family. His head pops up after the amen. “Now dig in.”

That’s all the encouragement the rest of us need. In short order, plates are filled and a low hum of conversation floats through the room as everyone eats.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Brenna asks as she hands me a bowl of mashed potatoes. I take a big scoop before passing it to Ben on my left.

“I am. This is the best Thanksgiving I’ve had in years,” I tell her honestly. “Your family is great.”

“What about me?” She scowls playfully.

“You’re great, too. And these mashed potatoes are great. Amazing, actually.” I let my eyes roll back in my head in exaggerated pleasure as I eat another bite. “Seriously, this is the kind of stuff people write poems about.”

Brenna laughs but doesn’t disagree.

About halfway through the meal, the lights come back on and everyone cheers. Soon after, Elaine announces the pie competition is about to start. “Kevin and I will taste each pie before we serve them and choose the one we like the best.”

“I hope I saved enough room to eat three different pies,” Kevin says, patting his stomach.

“You did,” Elaine replies, brooking no argument. “Bella and Kenzie, why don’t you help me and Pop get the pies and dessert plates.”

The girls are quick to jump up and help, leaving the adults and the twins at the table.

Isaac leans forward to catch Heather’s eye. “My pie is going to kick your pie’s butt. You don’t stand a chance.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Heather lifts her nose in the air and sniffs. “Between the two of us, who orders more takeout?”

Sara holds up Isaac’s hand for him and the table erupts with laughter.

“Hey! We’re on the same team!” he says, giving his wife an affronted look.

Sara shrugs and grins. “If it’s true, it’s true. But the good news is I did most of the work on our pie, so we still have a shot at winning.”

“It’s okay, man,” I tell Isaac wryly. “If we win, it will be because Brenna did ours. I mostly tried to stay out of her way.”

“What do you mean ‘if’ we win?” Brenna asks. “You have to think like a victor! Don’t let the other tributes get inside your head.”

“Nice.” Isaac grins and stretches across the table to offer her a high five. “A Hunger Games reference about a food competition. I approve.”

“Here comes the moment of truth.” Ben gestures to where Elaine and Kevin stand in the doorway, each with a plate containing three small half-eaten slices of pie.

“We have come to a decision,” Elaine says imperiously, clearly enjoying her role as judge and announcer. “As before, we ranked the pies one through three, with one being our favorite. And I must say…” She tilts her head. “It was a difficult decision. Ultimately, we chose the pie that was both tasty and attractive. Kevin, would you like to do the honors?”

I almost jump when I feel a touch on my leg, but it’s just Brenna reaching for my hand under the table. I thread my fingers through hers and she squeezes tightly, her face tense with anticipation.

Kevin clears his throat. “Third place goes to the classic pumpkin pie garnished with maple cinnamon whipped cream.”

“Mmm,” I murmur in Brenna’s ear. “Forget our pie, I want that one.”

She slaps my arm with her free hand.

“Who made that one?” Heather asks, and Isaac lifts his hand again.

Heather looks smug. “I knew my pie would whoop yours.”

“It was delicious, kids,” Kevin says. “But it came down to a cranberry apple pie with a crumble topping and a strawberry rhubarb pie with a lattice topping. And the winner is…” He pauses dramatically. “The cranberry apple.”

Brenna jumps out of her chair so fast it almost topples backward, both fists raised in the air. “Yes!”

“Can we have some pie now?” Kenzie asks plaintively, a stack of dessert plates in her hands. “It smells so good.”

“Yes, sweetie.” Elaine drops a kiss on top of her granddaughter’s hair. “Thanks for being patient and helping with the plates.”

Kenzie beams and proceeds to pass out plates while Bella brings the pies in one at a time to set in the middle of the table. Sara appoints herself the official pie server and doles out pieces to each person.

I end up with a slice of pumpkin and cranberry apple, and I have to say, they’re both fantastic. I’m glad it wasn’t my job to be the judge. I’m content to eat my dessert quietly with no pressure as I listen to the siblings bicker good-naturedly about the competition.

“Zach and I are in the lead now,” Brenna says with satisfaction. “What’s the next event, Mom?”

“Charades,” Elaine answers, and Brenna’s smile wilts a little. “But first, we clean up.”

“Hey,” I nudge her with my elbow. “It will be fine. You carried us through the pie event, and I’ll get us through this one.”

“I don’t think you understand just how bad I am at it,” Brenna says doubtfully as we all stand and begin to clear the table.

Much to my consternation, I quickly verify the veracity of that statement. We’ve been through three rounds, and my astonishment at her ineptitude at this game only continues to grow as we play.

It’s not that she’s not trying. Brenna is focused and determined, but seemingly incapable of guessing any of my words or phrases correctly. Likewise, when it’s her turn to act it out, I am completely unable to decipher the panicked gestures and movements she mimes. It feels like trying to hold a conversation with someone who is speaking a different language.

I can tell she’s getting frustrated when she once again fails to correctly guess—this time the phrase was “jumping through hoops” and I think I did an excellent job drawing a hoop in the air that I subsequently jumped through.

“Listen, it’s just a game,” I whisper to her as we watch Isaac flap his arms like a bird and hold up a peace sign. Sara guesses “two birds with one stone” and he pumps a fist in triumph. “Isn’t the point to have fun?”

Her mouth twists. “ Winning is fun.”

“We can still win overall, even if we don’t win this event,” I point out. This seems to cheer her some and she sits up straighter.

Ultimately, it’s not even close. Third place seems like a pity prize for how terrible we were. Both of Brenna’s siblings did well, but Heather and Ben did especially well, pulling in their first win of the day.

“It’s okay,” Brenna says. “We can still do this.”

I’m not sure if she’s trying to pump up me or herself. Either way, I give her an encouraging smile even though I’m starting to get pretty tired. We’ve been going since early this morning and somehow, I’m the only one who seems to be dragging. Even the kids still seem happy and enthusiastic. The Hartfords are machines.

“All right.” Elaine claps her hands to gain everyone’s attention. “We have one more competition, and right now it’s a three-way tie, so it’s truly still anyone’s game.”

The three Hartford siblings glance at each other with narrowed eyes and intense “I’m coming for you” stares. I wonder if I should be alarmed but Ben and Sara seem relaxed so I decide not.

“The final challenge,” Elaine continues, “is all about puzzling. You must work with your partner to solve three puzzles as quickly as possible. You may not move on to the next puzzle until you have completed the previous one, and you must stay together as a team—no splitting up to go faster. The team that brings the completed puzzles back here to the living room the fastest will be the winner. Any questions?”

She pauses for a moment. “If not, then let the games begin. Kevin, do you have the stopwatch?”

Her husband holds up the little device. “Ready.”

“Your first puzzle is in the dining room. You may begin in three…two…one…go!”

I am in no way prepared for the mad rush that ensues. Brenna takes off like a sprinter at the Olympics, with Isaac close behind her. Heather grabs the back of Isaac’s shirt to slow him down, managing to elbow in front of him. Ben, Sara, and I follow at a quick but reasonable pace.

In the dining room, the large table contains three identical 100-piece jigsaw puzzles, each with a note instructing us to complete it and take a picture to prove it before moving on to the next station in the kitchen.

Brenna rips off the top of the box and dumps the pieces in a heap with an almost gleeful expression. “I used to be great at puzzles. We are going to kill them on this one!”

I decide not to comment on her bloodthirsty statement.

“What do you want me to do?”

Brenna shoves a pile of pieces at me. “Start sorting. We need all the edge pieces first.”

I do as I’m told, sorting as quickly as possible. Brenna gets through her pile first and starts fitting the pieces together to make a frame for our puzzle. She works amazingly fast, her brow furrowed in concentration, and an image of a turkey strutting in front of a bright red barn starts to materialize.

I spare a glance at the other teams to gauge their progress. It looks like we’re in the lead for now.

“Eyes on the puzzle, Dawson.” Brenna’s command snaps me back to the task at hand.

“Yes, ma’am.” I smile to myself as I fit three pieces together and slot them into the middle of the puzzle to form one of the turkey’s feet.

Only a moment later, Brenna presses the last piece into place and jumps back. “Done!” she exclaims as she pulls out her phone and snaps a quick photo. “Come on.” She doesn’t wait to see if I’m behind her as she races for the kitchen.

Laid out on the island we find word searches with lists of twenty Thanksgiving-related words like “turkey” and “grateful”. Each page comes with two pencils and a note saying that we’ll find our next puzzle upstairs in the attic.

I grab a pencil and dash a line between the first ten words and the second. “You take the top ten and I’ll find the rest.”

“Got it.” We bow our heads over the word search and scan the jumble of letters. I’m the first to find the word “pilgrim” and she quickly circles “cornucopia” just as Isaac and Sara arrive. Isaac bumps into Brenna as he goes by, not enough to hurt her but enough to break her concentration.

She glares at him as she regains her balance but doesn’t respond beyond that, keeping her eyes on our puzzle as Heather and Ben enter the kitchen as well. All is silent except for the sounds of scratching pencils and whispered muttering, a fevered charge in the room.

My eyes light on the final word from the list and I circle it quickly before snatching up the page. “Go, go, go.” Since I have no idea where the entrance to the attic is, I follow Brenna’s lead. She surges up the stairs and runs to the end of the hallway, throwing open a door to reveal a storage closet. A rectangle in the ceiling with a cord dangling from it indicates a pull-down ladder, and I grasp the handle without hesitation.

I scramble up the ladder and look around in the cold darkness of the attic. “Is there a light?”

“There’s a bulb above your head.” Brenna’s muffled voice comes from below in the closet and I realize with some confusion that she’s not climbing the ladder. I kneel and look down at her through the opening. “Are you okay?”

Her face is pale and her eyes are round. She presses her lips together. “I hate the attic,” she whispers. “I got locked up there by accident one time. It was cold like it is now, and I was up there in the dark for three hours before Dad found me.”

I can hear footsteps pounding downstairs that tell me our lead is shortening and I feel a bolt of frustration as I try to think of how to help her. I know she’s scared but I also know she wants to win and that she’ll be mad at herself if she doesn’t push through this. “Brenna Hartford, put your big girl pants on and climb this ladder right now,” I say firmly, then add more gently, “I’ll be with you the whole time. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

This seems to snap her out of the memory that froze her in place, and she launches herself at the ladder. I blink, surprised that my command was so effective, and stumble backward to make room for her. As soon as she has both feet on the floor, I pull the ladder up behind us.

“Maybe that will slow them down for a second.”

Brenna pulls on a string that floods the space with light, and I take in our surroundings with interest. It’s tidy as attics go, with neat stacks of boxes and plastic bins along the walls. At the far end, about twenty feet from us, I spy an antique table with three pieces of paper on it.

Brenna darts forward and catches up a sheet and a pencil. She frowns down at it.

“I have no idea what this is.” She tilts the paper so I can see, revealing a jumble of random letters.

HTX XJQ UE ANTPEYQG TGG XETN GJIA

My mind whirls, trying to figure out what it is about the way the letters look that is so familiar, and suddenly a memory pops into my mind.

“It’s a cryptogram,” I tell her excitedly. “I had a puzzle book when I was a kid that had a few of these in it. What you have to do is figure out the keyword, then match it up with the existing alphabet, skipping any repeating letters.”

The trapdoor behind us creaks open, and Brenna shoves the paper and pencil into my hand. “Show me.”

“Okay, what do you think the keyword is?” I lower my voice as Isaac’s head pops in, followed by his body and then his wife. Whether or not they know what a cryptogram is, I don’t want them overhearing hints that would help them.

“All the puzzles have been themed around the holiday,” she whispers back. “So the keyword has to be Thanksgiving-related.”

I flip the paper over and start with the word “thanksgiving”, writing out the alphabet and the keyword with the remaining letters below it. It only takes me a moment to figure out that it’s no good. The first two words are gibberish when deciphered that way.

Heather and Ben soon join us and our three teams spread out in the attic, muttering quietly to each other. Sara and Isaac seem to be examining the table where the papers rested, moving on to the boxes surrounding us as if convinced that the key to whatever they’re looking at will be found somewhere up here.

I keep my head down and keep trying different keywords as Brenna whispers them to me. My fingers are getting stiff in the cold, and Brenna is beginning to shiver when she says, “Try ‘turkey.’”

I scribble it out and start deciphering.

MAY…YOU…BE…

Excitement builds in me, and it’s all I can do to contain myself. “I think this is it!”

I will myself to be calm, not to rush and get sloppy. The rest of the phrase forms on the page one word at a time.

GRATEFUL…ALL…YEAR…LONG.

I stab a period at the end of the sentence and look up at Brenna with a grin, nearly dropping the paper when she launches herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck with a happy squeal. “You did it!”

I wrap an arm around her, returning her embrace and relishing the warmth of her soft body in the chill of the attic. The scent of something sweet clings to her hair—maybe coconut? I inhale deeply without thinking about it. She pulls back, her hands on my shoulders for balance, and looks into my face with a joyful, admiring grin. My eyes fall to her lips, full and pink, and dart back up to her eyes, which have widened considerably as she registers the closeness of our position. She pushes back farther, dropping her hands and clearing her throat. I immediately miss the contact.

“We should take that downstairs,” she says, glancing back at her siblings. Isaac and Sara are scribbling on their page frantically, and it seems like they might be close to a breakthrough.

“Ladies first,” I say, and I follow her down, the now-solved cryptogram clutched in one hand. She descends quickly, then jogs down the hall and takes the stairs two at a time, skidding to a halt in front of her parents in the living room.

“We’re done,” she announces breathlessly, waving the word search over her head. “We have a picture of our jigsaw puzzle, and Zach has the one from the attic.”

Elaine takes the two pieces of paper and examines them, nodding and glancing up to see the photo Brenna pulls up on her phone. “Congratulations! You two have won this challenge.”

Brenna’s grin is contagious. She tosses her phone onto a nearby armchair and initiates a series of movements that I can only assume are meant to constitute a victory dance. Kevin moves to stand beside me and observe her celebration.

“Not too graceful,” Kevin mumbles from the side of his mouth. “But she’s smart and beautiful.”

I chuckle and take a step back to avoid being karate-chopped during an especially expressive move. I wonder if she doesn’t know what a terrible dancer she is or if she just doesn’t care? With Brenna, it could be either one. All I know is that I certainly won’t be the one to break it to her if she’s unaware.

Her routine comes to a halt as the other two teams join us.

“We gave up,” Heather announces for the group. “Even when we tried to team up, we still couldn’t figure it out.”

“I knew it was too difficult.” Elaine shoots Kevin a look “Your father designed this one.”

“Brenna and Zach figured it out,” Kevin defends himself.

“Actually, it was only Zach.” Brenna looks at me with a shy smile of admiration. “I had no idea what that was, but he knew right away that it was a cryptogram.”

“A cryptogram?” Ben slaps his forehead. “Of course! Man, I haven’t seen one in ages, and I totally forgot how to solve it.”

“Can you show us?” Isaac holds out his paper to me, and the four of them crowd around while I explain as I did to Brenna, showing them how the keyword works.

“That was a good one, Dad,” Isaac says once he’s satisfied that he understands how it works.

“Thanks, son.” Kevin looks proud of himself.

Elaine clears her throat. “Alright, kids, the final tally is in. It was extremely close, but the overall winners of today’s competition by a single point are Brenna and Zach.”

Isaac lifts my arm and Brenna’s into the air. “The first annual Thanksgiving Challenge champions! You were worthy opponents.”

“Well, at least I’m still the oldest,” Heather says good-naturedly. “That has to be worth something.”

“And I’ll always be the baby,” Isaac says cheerfully.

Brenna beams. “And I’m the happy winner in the middle.”

“Where are the kids?” Sara asks, and everyone looks around the room, slightly chagrined at having only just now realized that their offspring are nowhere in sight.

“They’re all in our bed watching a movie,” Elaine says calmly. “Though I bet the twins are asleep by now.”

“We’d better get them home and tucked in,” Isaac says, moving toward the door.

Ben stretches. “I’m about ready to get tucked in myself.”

“You go on upstairs,” Heather tells him. “I’ll get the girls.”

All at once, it’s just me and Brenna alone in the living room. I feel my shoulders sag in relief at the quiet. While the past sixteen hours have been fun, I’m feeling a little overstimulated and thankful for a moment of peace.

“Well, you won.” I tuck my hands in my pockets. Brenna crosses her arms and mirrors my smile, her manner more subdued now that the thrill of victory has settled.

“ We won. I definitely couldn’t have solved that last one without you. Thank you for… for everything.” The layered meaning in her words hangs between us.

I shrug one shoulder as another smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “Thanks for a very entertaining day. I’ve never had one like it.”

Brenna’s eyes sparkle. “I hope we didn’t scare you away. I know we can be…intense.”

“Not at all. I mean, yes, y’all are intense,” I clarify. “But I really did have fun.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” She lifts a hand to stifle a yawn, and I tip my head toward the door.

“You ready to head up?”

She nods and follows me out into the hall. Sara and Isaac are on their way out, each cradling a sleeping toddler, and we bid them goodbye before following Heather and the girls up the stairs.

As we approach the landing, I notice out of the corner of my eye that Brenna’s triumphant posture has started to droop. At first, I chalk it up to being tired, but a glance at her face reveals a downturned countenance that looks…resigned? Dejected?

I can’t quite discern the emotion, but I can tell she’s not happy like she was a few minutes ago.

“Good night, Zach.” She stops in front of her door and looks up at me, forcing a smile. “Feel free to sleep in if you want to, or you can get up and come Black Friday shopping.”

“Shopping’s not really my thing.” I study her face with concern. “Are you okay, Bren? You seem a little down.”

“I’m fine, I just…forgot I have a little bit of work to do before I go to bed.”

I frown. “On Thanksgiving?”

“Yeah, my boss is…demanding,” she finally says after a second of hesitation. I get the feeling that’s not the exact word she wanted to use.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask.

Her expression softens, and she puts a hand on my arm, squeezing gently. “I appreciate the offer, but no. You go on to bed, Zach. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“If you’re sure…” I pause, giving her a moment to change her mind, but she lets her hand drop as she turns the knob to open her door.

“I’m sure. Good night.”

She slips through the door and closes it behind her without another glance. I can’t help but notice the way her shoulders sagged. For a moment, I stand in the hallway, torn between the desire to tap on her door and the feeling that I should respect her dismissal and go to bed.

Reluctantly, I turn away and take the four steps to my own room.