“We were a tight family. My brothers are both older, so they were more settled, with careers and partners. It shook us all up pretty good. I ended up living with my gramps and grams for a couple of years after they passed.”

She nods, putting together the pieces of the puzzle, like why I took over The Knight Cap and why I kept all the pictures of him and Grams up.

“I’m sorry you’re not with your family today.”

“I’m used to celebrating after the fact.” If my brother’s place wasn’t so far away I might have made the effort to drive out there again today. But after spending all day yesterday taking Gramps up there and coming back, I just don’t have the energy. And sometimes the family stuff is harder on days like today, especially since my brothers are in committed relationships, and everyone gets on me for being alone. I force a smile and change the subject. “We should probably hit the road, huh?”

She gives her head a slight shake, as if she’s been lost in her own thoughts. “Oh yes. Definitely.” She squeezes my forearm gently. “Endless food awaits.”

Blaire wasn’t lying about her love of the movie Grease. The soundtrack is saved as a playlist. Apparently she’s a huge fan of movie and musical soundtracks.

“Feel free to change it to whatever you like. I know this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.” She motions to the stereo system.

Blaire drives a midsized SUV that has a pretty prominent rattle in the engine. It also boasts a Buttercream and Booze magnetic sign on both the driver and passenger side doors. The engine rattle makes me wonder what kind of restaurant background she comes from and how much her family has struggled to make a living at it.

“You said your family is in the restaurant industry, right?” I ask, making small talk.

“Yup, they are.” Blaire taps the steering wheel, like she’s drumming to the beat of the song.

“So why don’t you work with them? Why go out on your own?” Clearly they’re at least somewhat close if she’s willing to drive an hour and a half for dinner.

“They’re more steak and lobster, and that isn’t where my passion lies,” she replies. “They like to hobnob, and I like…not to.”

There’s clearly more to that story, but I don’t know if I should push it too much since despite all our interactions—which have been mostly Blaire being pissed off at me for something—I’m not sure we’re at a place where she feels comfortable sharing too much personal information. Although I’m attending Thanksgiving dinner with her family, in part because it was better than being alone, and also because I’m curious about Blaire. It’s a bit of a strange situation all the way around. “Do you want to expand on that?”

She grips and releases the steering wheel, blowing out a breath. “My family is a little…odd.”

Considering Blaire dresses like she’s June Cleaver’s pinup-worthy sister I can’t say I’m all that surprised. “Aren’t all families odd?”

“Mine more than most, I think. They’re all very Type A and concerned about money and being the best. And of course I want to be the best, too, but on my own merit and not theirs. I could’ve worked my way up the ladder in one of their restaurants, but I love baking, and that was never going to fly with them, so I went out on my own instead.” She signals right and takes the next exit off the freeway. “They’re also kind of insane, and I spent the first twenty-five years of my life dealing with it on a daily basis. I figured I deserved some separation from that.”

“That’s fair. I love my brothers, but they drive me nuts on a good day. We worked for the same company for a while, but they ended up going out on their own and I don’t know that I could ever really work for them.” Which was part of the reason I went in a different direction. They wanted the three of us to go into business together and I already didn’t love the job.

“Mmm. Family businesses can be tough. It would be a lot easier financially if I went in the direction they wanted me to. They’d love to have me as their pastry chef, designing intricate, elaborate creations that would get them written up by all the highbrow foodie bloggers. But that’s not my style. I’d rather struggle to make ends meet for a while than give up my own dream.”

“I can’t imagine how intense it must be doing it all on your own.” It makes me even more grateful for Gramps’s support.

“The first couple of years are always hard, but I’m hoping in the end it’ll pay off. Someday I’ll be able to get more than five hours of sleep a night and my diet won’t consist mostly of leftover cupcakes and almost-expired sandwiches.”

“Because you don’t have time to cook?”

She lifts a shoulder. “Everything I have is tied up in Buttercream and Booze so if the money’s already spent on the food, then I might as well eat it rather than buy groceries that are going to rot in my fridge because I’m never home.”

“Do you remember the last time you had a lazy Saturday?” I ask.

“Nope.” Blaire raises her finger in the air. “Wait. I had the flu two years ago and had to take a Saturday off because of it.”

“I don’t think that counts as a lazy day.” This conversation makes me highly aware of just how hard Blaire has to work to get where she is. It explains why she was so hostile the first time I met her.

Blaire turns down a country road and the distance between houses increases. The farther we get from the freeway, the antsier Blaire becomes. She stops asking questions and her answers grow shorter, more clipped. She starts to nibble on her bottom lip, eyes darting to me and away every so often.

“Having second thoughts?” I’m kind of joking, kind of not. We don’t know each other all that well and while I find myself strangely attracted to her, I’m not sure if it’s completely one-sided or not. I believe the invite was more her feeling bad for me, but there’s also been more than one interaction that’s included thinly veiled innuendo and what seems like flirting.

“No. Not really. I mean—” She cringes. “I should probably warn you; my family is a bit…unconventional.”

“Unconventional how?” Maybe they’re circus-performing restaurateurs.

Blaire slows the SUV and makes a careful right. She stops at the gated entrance. For the first time I notice the eight-foot wrought-iron fence that stretches out on both sides into the distance. It’s surrounded by forest. Maybe they’re part of a commune. Or a cult. I sincerely hope I make it out of this alive.