Birthright

and soothing. And though she rarely thought about her appearance when working, Callie had a healthy sense of vanity. She didn’t enjoy knowing she’d been walking around looking awful.
    Maybe she’d give herself a facial. Rosie always had plenty of girl stuff in her pack. She’d spruce up a little. And she’d remember to put on makeup in the morning.
    There was no reason to go around looking like a hag just because she felt like one.
    She couldn’t manage the thirty minutes, but considered it a victory of willpower that she’d lasted fifteen. She got up, tossed the pads away, then took a long, critical study of herself in the little hand mirror from her pack.
    She’d looked worse, she decided. But she’d sure as hell looked better.
    She’d go down, forage some food from the kitchen, then see what Rosie recommended she slap on her face. She could handle leaving her skin smothered in gunk while she worked on the dailies.
    Considering it an intelligent compromise, she started down. Then stopped halfway down the stairs when she saw Jake at the door, and her parents on the other side.
    They made an awkward tableau, she thought. How many times had they actually met, face-to-face? Twice? No, three times, she corrected.
    Another mistake, she supposed. She’d considered Jacob Graystone so alien to her parents’ lifestyle that she’d made no real effort to blend him into her family circle. And there was no doubt in her mind now that he’d had exactly the same reservation with her and his own family.
    It was hardly any wonder they were so awkward with each other. Even without everything that had happened since July.
    She skimmed her fingers through her hair and hurried the rest of the way down.
    “Well, this is a surprise.” She tried to keep her voice easy and bright, but the tension inside her, around her, was thick enough to drink. “You should’ve told me you were coming down, I’d have guided you in. It couldn’t’ve been easy to find us.”
    “We only got lost twice.” Vivian stepped in, locked her arms around Callie.
    “Once,” Elliot corrected. “The second time was just a reconnoiter. And we’d’ve been here an hour ago if your mother hadn’t insisted we stop for this.”
    “A birthday cake.” Vivian loosened her hold on Callie as Elliot held up the bakery box. “We could hardly come all this way to wish you a happy birthday and not bring a cake. I know it’s not till tomorrow, but I couldn’t resist.”
    Callie’s smile felt frozen, but she reached out for the box. “It’s never the wrong time for sugar.”
    She could feel the curiosity and speculation pumping in from the living room where some of the team were sprawled. “Ah, this is Dory, Matt, Bob. And you remember Rosie.”
    “Of course. Nice to meet you.” Vivian ran a hand up and down Callie’s arm as she spoke. “Wonderful to see you again, Rosie.”
    “Why don’t we take this back to the kitchen? It’s the only place we have enough chairs anyway.” She turned, shoving the cake box at Jake before he could escape. “I’ll make some coffee.”
    “We don’t want you to go to any trouble.” Though Elliot followed along. “We thought you might like to go out to dinner. We’ve got a room in a hotel just over the river. We’re told the restaurant’s very good.”
    “Well, I . . .”
    “I can lock the cake up somewhere,” Jake offered. “Otherwise, it’ll be a memory when you get back.”
    “Like I’d trust you around baked goods.” Callie took the cake back and made the decision on impulse. “I’ll hide it. And you’ll have to come with us.”
    “I’ve got work,” he began.
    “Me too. But I’m not turning down a free meal away from the horde, and I’m not leaving you with this cake. I’ll be down in ten,” she told her surprised parents, then hurried out with the cake.
    Jake drummed his fingers on his thigh, thought of half a dozen ways he could make Callie pay for putting him on the spot. “Listen, I’m going to cut out. I know you want some time alone with Callie.”
    “She wants you to come.” There was such simple bafflement in Vivian’s voice, Jake nearly laughed.
    “Just tell her I headed back to the site.”
    “She wants you to come,” Vivian repeated. “So you’ll come.”
    “Mrs. Dunbrook—”
    “You’ll need to change your shirt. And wear a jacket. A tie would be nice,” she added, “but they aren’t required.”
    “I don’t have one. With me, I mean. I own a tie,