Return of the Last McKenna
Shirley Jump
Dr Brody McKenna has just returned from serving as a medic in Afghanistan. Now, he’s returned to his life as a family doctor, with one more mission to fulfil…Standing outside Kate Spencer’s cosy sweet shop, he takes a deep breath. Going through that door takes more courage than ever, for he’s here to keep a promise made to his dying friend. He’s prepared for tears or anger - not for the gut-deep punch of attraction he feels for sparky-but-stressed Kate.One spontaneous offer of help later, this hero is surrounded by cupcakes, candy-canes – and the greatest temptation he’s ever known to forget his past and take a new kind of risk…
What happens when the hero comes home?
Dr. Brody McKenna has just returned home from serving as a medic in Afghanistan, and he has one more mission to fulfill....
Standing outside Kate Spencer’s sweetshop, he takes a deep breath. Going through that door will take courage, for he’s here to keep a promise made to his dying friend. He’s prepared for tears or anger—not the deep attraction he feels for sparky-but-stressed Kate. One spontaneous offer of help later, this hero is surrounded by cupcakes, candy canes—and the greatest enticement to forget his past and take a new kind of risk.…
Dear Reader,
I’m almost sad to write this Dear Reader letter because it means the McKenna brothers trilogy has come to an end. I loved each and every brother, and had a lot of fun writing their stories. Not only did these books let me return home to the place where I grew up, but they also presented lots of challenges and interesting story lines.
Heidi, the dog who first appears in Finn’s book, is based on my own real-life golden retriever, who died a few years ago. I enjoyed being able to bring her to life again on the page and having her become a big part of the McKenna family. But most of all, I really enjoyed writing about the military and its heroes. My father is retired from the military, and my husband is former military, so the sacrifice our troops make every day is very dear to me. I hope you enjoy Brody’s story, and can relate to Elena’s grandma’s addiction to cupcakes (that one is all, uh, me. I love cupcakes!).
I love to hear from readers, so please visit my website (www.shirleyjump.com (http://www.shirleyjump.com)) or visit my blog (www.shirleyjump.blogspot.com (http://www.shirleyjump.blogspot.com)), where I share family recipes and writing news. Stop on by and share a recipe, a favorite book, or just say hello!
Happy reading!
Shirley
Return of the Last McKenna
Shirley Jump
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
New York Times bestselling author Shirley Jump didn’t have the willpower to diet or the talent to master under-eye concealer, so she bowed out of a career in television and opted instead for a career where she could be paid to eat at her desk—writing. At first, seeking revenge on her children for their grocery-store tantrums, she sold embarrassing essays about them to anthologies. However, it wasn’t enough to feed her growing addiction to writing funny. So she turned to the world of romance novels, where messes are (usually) cleaned up before The End. In the worlds Shirley gets to create and control, the children listen to their parents, the husbands always remember holidays and the housework is magically done by elves. Though she’s thrilled to see her books in stores around the world, Shirley mostly writes because it gives her an excuse to avoid cleaning the toilets and helps feed her shoe habit.
To learn more, visit her website at www.shirleyjump.com (http://www.shirleyjump.com).
To the most heroic military man I know—my husband, who served his country, and has made me proud to be his wife in a thousand different ways. Not to mention, he’s the kind of guy who brings home cupcakes just because I had a hard day. He knows me well!
Contents
Chapter One (#ufa9fe08d-4204-5a21-ad7f-5c4e4149841a)
Chapter Two (#u6106b3d0-12a9-59e9-ba46-0f87a60ec962)
Chapter Three (#u72c7c480-b514-53da-bb9b-b6207f058b34)
Chapter Four (#uc106a70b-4be0-55a5-a5be-36df0c026d86)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
BRODY McKenna checked his third sore throat of the morning, prescribed the same prescription as he had twice before—rest, fluids, acetaminophen—and tried to count his blessings. He had a dependable job as a family physician, a growing practice, and a close knit family living nearby. He’d returned from his time overseas none the worse for wear, and should have been excited to get back to his job.
He wasn’t.
The six-year-old patient headed out the door, with a sugar-free lollipop and a less harried mother. As they left, Helen Maguire, the nurse who had been with him since day one, and with Doc Watkins for fifteen years before that, poked her head in the door. “That’s the last patient of the morning,” she said. A matronly figure in pink scrubs decorated with zoo animals, Mrs. Maguire had short gray hair and a smile for every patient, young or old. “We have an hour until it’s time to start immunizations. And then later in the afternoon, we’ll be doing sports physicals.”
Brody’s mind drifted away from his next appointment and the flurry of activity in his busy Newton office. His gaze swept the room, the jars of supplies, so easy to order and stock here in America, always on hand and ready for any emergency. Every bandage, every tongue depressor, every stethoscope, reminded him. Launched him back to a hot country and a dusty dirt floor hut short on supplies and even shorter on miracles.
“Doc? Did you hear me?” Mrs. Maguire asked.
“Oh, oh. Yes. Sorry.” Brody washed his hands, then dried them and handed the chart to Helen. Focus on work, he told himself, not on a moment in the past that couldn’t be changed. Or on a country on the other side of the world, to those people he couldn’t save.
Especially not on that.
“Lots of colds going around,” he said.
“It’s that time of year.”
“I think it’s always that time of year.”
Helen shrugged. “I think that’s what I like about family practice. You can set your watch by the colds and flus and shots. It has a certain rhythm to it, don’t you think?”
“I do.” For a long time, Brody had thought he had the perfect life. A family practice for a family man.
Or at least, that had been the plan. Then the family had dissolved before it had a chance to form. By that time, Brody had already stepped into Doc Watkins’s shoes. Walking away from a thriving practice would be insane, so he’d stayed. For a long time, he’d been happy. He liked the patients. Liked working with kids, liked seeing the families grow and change.
It was good work, and he took satisfaction in that, and had augmented it with volunteer time with different places over the years—a clinic in Alabama, a homeless shelter in Maine. When the opportunity to volunteer assisting the remaining military overseas arose, Brody had jumped at it.
For a month, he’d changed lives in Afghanistan, working side by side with other docs in a roving medical unit that visited villagers too poor to get to a doctor or hospital, with the American military along for protection.
Brody had thought he’d make a difference there, too. He had—just not in the way he wanted. And now he couldn’t find peace, no matter where he turned.
“You okay, doc?” Mrs. Maguire asked.
“Fine.” His gaze landed on the jars of supplies again. “Just distracted. I think I’ll head out for lunch instead of eating at my desk.”
And being around all these reminders.
“No problem. It’ll do you good to take some time to enjoy the day.” Mrs. Maguire smiled. “I find a little fresh air can make everything seem brighter.”
Brody doubted the air would work any miracles for him, but maybe some space and distance would. Unfortunately, he had little of either. “I’ll be back by one.”
He stepped outside his office and into a warm, almost summer day. The temperatures still lingered in the high seventies, even though the calendar date read deep into September. Brody headed down the street, waving to the neighbors who flanked his Newton practice—Mr. Simon with his shoe repair shop, Mrs. Tipp with her art gallery and Milo, who had opened three different types of shops in the same location, like an entrepreneur with ADD.
Brody took the same path as he took most days when he walked during his lunch hour. He rarely ate, just walked from his office to the same destination and back. He’d done it so many times in the last few weeks, he half expected to see a worn river of footsteps down the center of the sidewalk.
Brody reached in his pocket as he rounded the corner. The paper was crinkled and worn, the edges beginning to fray, but the inked message had stayed clear.
Hey, Superman, take care of yourself and come home safe. People over here love and miss you. Especially me. Things just aren’t the same without your goofy face around. Love you, Kate.
Brody had held onto that card for a month now. He ran his hands over the letters now, and debated the same thing he’d had in his head for weeks. To fulfill Andrew’s last wishes, or let it go?
He paused. His feet had taken him to the same destination as always. He stood under the bright red and white awning of Nora’s Sweet Shop and debated again, the card firm in his grip.
Promise me, Doc. Promise me you’ll go see her. Make sure she’s okay. Make sure she’s happy. But please, don’t tell her what happened. She’ll blame herself and Kate has suffered enough already.
The promise had been easy to make a month ago. Harder to keep.
Brody fingered the card again. Promise me.
How many times had he made this journey and turned back instead of taking, literally, the next step? If he returned to the thermometers and stethoscopes and bandages, though, would he ever find peace?
He knew that answer. No. He needed to do this. Step forward instead of back.
Brody took a deep breath, then opened the door and stepped inside the shop. The sweet scents of chocolate and vanilla drifted over him, while soft jazz music filled his ears. A glass case of cupcakes and chocolates sat at one end of the store while a bright rainbow of gift baskets lined the sides. A cake made out of cupcakes and decorated in bridal colors sat on a glass stand in a bay window. Along the top of the walls ran a border of dark pink writing trimmed with chocolate brown and a hand lettered script reading Nora’s Sweet Shop. On the wall behind the counter, hung a framed spatula with the name of the shop carved in the handle.
“Just a minute!” a woman called from the back.
“No problem,” Brody said, stuffing the card back into his pocket. “I’m just…”
Just what? Not browsing. Not looking for candy or cupcakes. And he sure as hell couldn’t say the truth—
He’d come to this little shop in downtown Newton for forgiveness.
So instead he grabbed the first assembled basket of treats he saw and marched over to the counter. He was just pulling out his wallet when a slim brunette woman emerged from the back room.
“Hi, I’m Kate.” She dried her hands on the front of her apron before proffering one for him to shake. “How can I help you?”
Kate Spencer. The owner of the shop, and the woman he’d thought of a hundred times in the past weeks. A woman he’d never met but heard enough about to write at least a couple chapters of her biography.
He took her hand, a steady, firm grip—and tried not to stare. All these weeks he’d held onto that card, he’d expected someone, well, someone like a young version of Mrs. Maguire. A motherly type with her hair in a bun, and an apron around her waist, and a hug ready for anyone she met. That was how Andrew had made his older sister sound. Loving, warm, dependable. Like a down comforter.
Not the thin, fit, dynamo who had hurried out of the back room, with a friendly smile on her face and her coffee colored hair in a sassy ponytail skewed a bit too far to the right. She had deep green eyes, full crimson lips and delicate, pretty features. Yet he saw shadows dusting the undersides of her eyes and a tension in her shoulders.
Brody opened his mouth to introduce himself, to fulfill his purpose for being here, but the words wouldn’t get past his throat. “I…I…uh,” he glanced down at the counter, at the cellophane package in his hands, “I wanted to get this.”
“No problem. Is it for a special person?”
Brody’s mind raced for an answer. “My, uh, grandmother. She loves chocolate.”
“Your grandma?” Kate laughed, then spun the basket to face him. “You want me to, ah, change out this bow? To something a little more feminine? Unless your grandma is a big fan?”
He glanced down and noticed he’d chosen a basket with a Red Sox ribbon. The dark blue basket with red trim, filled with white foil wrapped chocolates shaped like baseballs and bats, couldn’t be further from the type of thing his staid grandmother liked. He chuckled. “No, that’d be me. I’ve even got season tickets. When she does watch baseball, my grandma is strictly a Yankees fan, though you can’t say that too loud in Boston.”
Kate laughed, a light lyrical, happy sound. Again, Brody realized how far off his imaginings of her had been. “Well, Mr. Red Sox, let me make this more grandma friendly. Okay? And meanwhile, if you want to put a card with this, there are some on the counter over there.”
“Thanks.” He wandered over to the counter she’d indicated, and tugged out a card, then scribbled his name across it. That kept him from watching her and gave his brain a few minutes to adjust to the reality of Kate Spencer.
She was, in a word, beautiful. The kind of woman, on any other day, he might have asked out on a date. Friendly, sweet natured, with a ready smile and a teasing lilt to her words. Her smile had roused something in him the minute he saw her, and that surprised him. He hadn’t expected to be attracted to her, not one bit.
He tried to find a way around to say what he had come to say. Promise me.
He’d practiced the words he needed to say in his head a hundred times, but now that the moment had arrived, they wouldn’t come. It wasn’t the kind of subject one could just dump in the middle of a business transaction, nor had he quite figured out how to fulfill Andrew’s wishes without giving away why. He needed to lead up to it, somehow. Yeah, easier to climb Mt. Everest.
“So…how’s business?” he asked.
“Pretty good. We’ve been growing every year since we opened in 1953. Mondays are our only slow day of the week. Almost like a mini vacation, except at the beginning of the week.”
“You make all the cupcakes and candy things yourself?”
She shook her head and laughed. “I couldn’t. It’s a lot of work. Nora’s Sweet Shop has been a family business for many years, but…” she trailed off, seemed to look elsewhere for a second, then came back, “anyway, now I have a helper who’s invaluable in the kitchen. Why, you applying?”
“Me? I’m all thumbs in the kitchen.”
“That can be dangerous if there are knives involved.” She grinned. “But seriously, baking is something you can learn. I never had formal training. Learned it all at my grandmother’s knee. And if a hopeless case like me can grow up to be a baker, anyone can.”
“Sounds like you love working here.”
“I do. It’s…therapeutic.” The humor dimmed in her features, and her gaze again went to somewhere he couldn’t see. He didn’t have to be psychic to know why sadness had washed over her face. Because of choices Brody had made on the other side of the world.
Damn.
Brody cleared his throat. “Work can be good for the soul.”
Or at least, that’s what he told himself every time he walked into his practice. Ever since he’d returned from Afghanistan, though, he hadn’t found that same satisfaction in his job as before. Maybe he just needed more time. That’s what Mrs. Maguire said. Give it time, and it’ll all get better.
“And what work do you do, that feeds your soul?” She colored. “Sorry. That’s a little personal. You don’t have to answer. I was just curious.”
“I’m a doctor,” he said.
She leaned against the counter, one elbow on the glass, her body turned toward his. “That’s a rewarding job. So much more so than baking. And not to mention, a lot more complicated than measuring out cupcake batter.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said. “Your job looks pretty rewarding to me. I mean, you make people happy.”
“It takes a lot of sugar to do that.” She laughed. “But thank you. I try my best. Three generations of Spencers have been trying to do that here.”
Brody’s gaze drifted over the articles on the wall. Several contained accolades and positive reviews for the sweet shop, a third generation business that had enjoyed decades of raves, as evidenced by some of the framed, yellowed clippings. Brody paused when he got to the last article on the right. The page was creased on one side, as if someone had kept the paper in a book for a while before posting it on the wall. A picture of a handsome young man in uniform smiled out from the corner of the article.
SHOP OWNER’S BROTHER DIES IN AFGHANISTAN
Brody didn’t have to read another word to write the ending. In an instant, he was back there, in that hot, dusty hut, praying and cursing, and praying and cursing some more, while he tried to pump life back into Andrew Spencer.
And failed.
Brody could still feel the young man’s chest beneath his palms. A hard balloon, going up, going down, forced into moving by Brody’s hands, but no breath escaping his lips. Andrew’s eyes open, sightless, empty. His life ebbing away one second at a time, while Brody watched, helpless and frustrated. Powerless.
Damn. Damn.
No amount of time would heal that wound for Kate and her family. No amount of time would make that better. What had he been thinking? How could buying a basket ever ease the pain he’d caused Kate Spencer? What had Andrew been thinking, sending Brody here?
Brody’s hand went to the card in his pocket again, but this time, the cardboard corners formed sharp barbs.
“Sir? Your basket is ready.”
Brody whirled around. “My basket?”
Kate laughed and held it up. The arrangement sported a new pink and white bow and the sports-themed chocolates had been changed for ones shaped like flowers. “For grandma?”
“Oh, yeah, sure, thanks.” He gestured toward the article on the wall. He knew he should let it go, but he’d made a promise, and somehow, he had to find a way to keep it. Maybe then he’d be able to sleep, to find peace, and to give some to Kate Spencer, too. “You had a brother in the war?”
A shadow dropped over her features. She fiddled with the pen on the counter. “Yeah. My little brother, Andrew. He died over there last month. We all thought he was safe because the big conflict was over, but there were still dangers around every corner.”
“I’m sorry.” So much sorrier than he could say. He wanted to step forward, but instead Brody lingered by the counter. All the words he’d practiced in his head seemed empty, inadequate. “That must have been tough.”
“It has been. In a lot of ways. But I work, and I talk to him sometimes, and I get through it.” She blushed. “That sounds crazy, I know.”
“No, it doesn’t. Not at all.”
She smoothed a hand over the counter. “He used to work here. And I miss seeing him every day. He was the organized one in the family, and he’d be appalled at the condition of my office.” She laughed, then nodded toward the basket. “Anyway, do you want to put your card with that?”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” He handed Kate the message he’d scribbled to his grandmother and watched as she tucked the small paper inside the cellophane wrapper. Again, he tried to find the words he needed to say, and again, he failed. “I’ve, uh, never been to this place before. Lived in this neighborhood for a while and I’ve seen it often, but never stopped by.”
“Well, thank you for coming and shopping at Nora’s Sweet Shop.” She gave the basket a friendly pat. “I hope your grandmother enjoys her treats.”
“I’m sure she will.” For the hundredth time he told himself to leave. And for the hundredth time, he didn’t. “So if you’re Kate, who’s Nora?” He asked the question, even though he knew the answer. Andrew had talked about Nora’s Sweet Shop often, and told Brody the entire story about its origins.
“Nora is my grandmother.” A soft smile stole over Kate’s face. “She opened this place right after my grandfather came home from the Korean War. He worked side by side with her here for sixty years before they both retired and gave the shop to my brother and me. She’s the Nora in Nora’s Sweet Shop and if you ask my grandfather, she’s the sweet in his life.”
“She’s still alive?” Ever since Brody had met the jovial, brave soldier, he’d wondered what kind of people had raised a man like that. What kind of family surrounded him, supported him as he went off to defend the country.
“My grandparents are retired now,” Kate said, “but they come by the shop all the time and still do some deliveries. My brother and I grew up around here, and we spent more time behind this counter than anywhere else. I think partly to help my grandparents, and partly to keep us out of trouble while my parents were working. We were mischievous when we were young,” she said with a laugh, “and my brother Andrew served as my partner in crime. Back then…and also for years afterwards when we took over the shop from my grandma. He had the craziest ideas.” She shook her head again. “Anyway, that’s how a Kate ended up running Nora’s.”
Brody had heard the same story from Andrew. Both Spencer children had loved the little shop, and the indulgent grandparents who ran it. Andrew hadn’t talked much about his parents, except to say they were divorced, but he had raved about his grandparents and his older sister.
It had been one of several things Brody had in common with the young soldier, and created a bond between the two of them almost from the first day they met. He’d understood that devotion to grandparents, and to siblings.
“My grandmother runs a family business, too. A marketing agency started by my grandfather years ago. My brothers and I all went in different directions, so I think she’s pinned her hopes on my cousin Alec for taking it over when she retires.”
She cocked her head to one side and studied him, her gaze roaming over his suit, tie, the shiny dress shoes. A teasing smile played on her lips, danced in her eyes. Already he’d started to like Kate Spencer. Her sassy attitude, her friendly smile.
“And you, Mr. Red Sox ribbon, you are far from the business type, being a doctor?”
He chuckled. “Definitely.”
“Well, should I ever feel faint,” she pressed a hand to her chest and the smile widened, and something in Brody flipped inside out, “I know who to call.”
For a second, he forgot his reason for being there. His gaze lingered on the hand on her chest, then drifted to the curve of her lips. “I’m right around the corner. Almost shouting distance.”
“That’s good to know.” The smile again. “Really good.”
The tension between them coiled tighter. The room warmed, and the traffic outside became a low, muted hum. Brody wished he was an ordinary customer, here on an ordinary reason. That he wasn’t going to have to make that smile dim by telling her the truth.
Kate broke eye contact first. She jerked her attention to the register, her fingers hovering over the keys. “Goodness. I got so distracted by talking, I forgot to charge you.”
“And I forgot to pay.” Brody handed over a credit card. As he did, he noticed her hands. Long, delicate fingers tipped with no-nonsense nails. Pretty hands. The kind that seemed like they’d have an easy, gentle touch.
She took the credit card, slid it through the register, pushed a few buttons, then waited for a receipt to print. She glanced down at his name as she handed him back the card. “Mr. McKenna, is it?”
He braced himself. Did she recognize the last name? But her smile remained friendly.
Yes, I’m Brody McKenna. The doctor who let your brother die.
Not the answer he wanted to give. Call him selfish, call him a coward, but for right now, he wanted only to see her smile again. He told himself it was because that was what Andrew had wanted, but really, Brody liked Kate’s smile. A lot.
“Yes. But I prefer Brody.” He scrawled his name across the receipt and slid it back to her.
“Well, thank you, Brody.” His name slid off her tongue with an easy, sweet lilt. “I hope you return if you’re in the neighborhood again.”
“Thank you, Kate.” He picked up his basket and headed for the door. As he pushed on the exit, he paused, turned back. He had come here for a reason, and had yet to fulfill even a tenth of that purpose. “Maybe someday I can return the favor.”
“I didn’t do anything special, just my job. If you want to return the favor, then tell all your friends to shop here and to call on us to help them celebrate special moments.” And then, like a gift, she smiled at him again. “That’ll be more than enough.”
“No, it won’t,” he said, his voice low and quiet, then headed out the door.
CHAPTER TWO
WHAT had he been thinking?
He’d gone into that little shop planning…what?
To tell Kate the truth? That her little brother had charged him with making sure his sister was okay. That Brody was supposed to make sure she wasn’t letting her grief overwhelm her, and that she was staying on track with her life, despite losing Andrew. Instead Brody had bought a basket of chocolates, and chickened out at the last minute. Damn.
“Tell me you’re quiet because you’re distracted by that pretty hostess over there,” Riley said to Brody. The dim interior provided the perfect backdrop for the microbrewery/restaurant that had become their newest favorite stop for lunch. Brody had called Riley yesterday after his visit to Nora’s Sweet Shop, and made plans for lunch today. That, he figured, would keep him from making another visit. And leaving without saying or doing what he’d gone there to do.
“Why are you mentioning the hostess?” Brody asked. “Aren’t you getting married soon?”
“I am indeed. But that doesn’t mean I can’t keep my eye out for a pretty girl…” Riley leaned across the table and grinned, “for you. You’re the last of the McKenna boys who isn’t married. Better pony up to the bar, brother, and join the club.”
“No way. I’ve tried that—”
“You got engaged. Not married. Doesn’t count. You came to the edge of the cliff and didn’t jump.”
“For good reason.” Melissa had been more interested in the glamour of being a doctor’s wife than in being Brody’s wife. Once she’d realized he had opted for a small family practice instead of a lucrative practice like plastic surgery or cardiac care, she’d called off the engagement. She didn’t want a man who spent his life “sacrificing,” she’d said. No matter what Brody said or did, he couldn’t fix their relationship and couldn’t get it back on track. Brody’s family dream had evaporated like a puddle on a summer day.
Brody picked up the menu and scanned the offerings. “How’s work going?”
That drew more laughter from Riley. “Don’t think I’m falling for that. You’re changing the subject.”
“You got me.” Brody put up his hands. “I don’t want to talk about the hostess or my love life or why I didn’t get married. I want to visit with my little brother before he attaches the ball and chain to his ankle.”
“No need for that. I’m head over heels in love with my wife to be.” A goofy grin spread across Riley’s face. “We’re working out the final details for the wedding. Got the place—”
“The diner.” A busy, quaint place in the heart of Boston where the former playboy Riley had worked for a few weeks when their grandmother had cut him off from the family pocketbook and told him to get a job and grow up. Now, a couple of months later, Riley had turned into a different man. Stace had brought out the best in Brody’s little brother.
“Gran had a fit about us having the wedding at the Morning Glory, because she wanted us to get married at the Park Plaza, but Stace and I love that old diner, so it seemed only fitting we seal the deal there. Stace has her dress, though I am forbidden from seeing it until the wedding day. And you guys all have your suits—”
“Thank you again for not making me put on a tux.”
Riley grinned. “You know me, Brody. I’d rather wear a horsehair shirt than a tux. Finn’s the only formal one out of the three of us. He actually wanted a tux. Says I’m killing a tradition with the suit idea.” Riley waved a hand in dismissal. “I’m sure Ellie will talk some sense into him. That wife of his has been the best thing ever for ol’ stick in the mud Finn.”
Brody shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re talking about wedding plans. You’ve changed, little brother.”
“For the better, believe me. Meeting Stace made me change everything about myself, my life. And I’m glad it did.” The waitress came by their table to take their orders. Riley opted to try the new Autumn Lager, while Brody stuck to water.
Riley raised a hand when a few of their mutual friends came in. Then he turned back to Brody. “Want me to invite them over to join us?”
Brody thought of the small talk they’d exchange, idle chatter about women, work and sports. “I don’t feel much like company. Maybe another time.”
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.” Brody pushed his menu to the side of the table and avoided his brother’s gaze.
“Sure you are. Brody, you’re still struggling. You should talk about it.”
The waitress dropped off their drinks. Brody thanked her, then took a long sip of the icy water. Talking about it hadn’t done any good. He’d lost patients before, back when he was an intern, and in the last few years, seen a few patients die of heart disease and cancer, but this one had been different. Maybe because he’d lacked the tools so easy to obtain here.
Either way, Brody didn’t want to discuss the loss of Andrew. Of the three McKennas, Brody kept the most inside. Maybe it came from being the middle brother, sandwiched between practical Finn and boisterous Riley. Or maybe it stemmed from his job—the good doctor trying to keep emotion out of the equation and relying on logic to make decisions. Or maybe it stemmed from something deeper.
Admitting he had failed. Doctors were the ones people relied on to fix it, make it better, and Brody hadn’t done either.
“By the way,” Brody said, “if you guys don’t have a cake picked out yet for the wedding, there’s this bakery down the street from my office that does cupcake wedding cakes. They had a display in the window. I thought it looked kind of cool. I know you and Stace are doing the unconventional thing, so maybe this would be a good fit.”
“Changing the subject again?”
Brody grinned. “Doing my best.”
“Okay. I get the hint. No, we don’t have a cake decided on yet. We planned this whole thing pretty fast, because all I want to do is wake up next to Stace every day of my life.” Riley grinned, then narrowed his eyes. “Hey, since when do you bring dessert to a get-together? Or heck, offer anything other than a reminder to get my flu shot?”
Brody scowled. “I thought it’d be nice for you and Stace.”
Riley leaned forward, studying his older brother’s face. “Wait…did you say bakery? Is it the one owned by that guy’s sister?”
“Yeah.” Brody shrugged, concentrated on drinking his water. “It is. But that’s not—”
“Oh.” Riley paused a second. “Okay. I get it. Good idea.”
“I’m just offering to help defray the costs of your wedding.”
“Whatever spin you want to put on it is fine with me.” Riley chuckled. “Stace talked about baking the cake herself, but she’s so busy with the diner, and then planning this thing. Let me talk to Stace and see if that works for her. I’ll do that right now, in fact.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I don’t mind, Brody. Not one bit.” Riley’s face filled with sympathy. Riley knew very little about Brody’s time in Afghanistan. A few facts, but no real details, and only because Riley had brought over a six-pack of beer to welcome Brody home, and by the third one, Brody had started talking. He’d told Riley one of the military guys who had died had been local, that he’d struck up a friendship with the man before he died. But that was all. Brody had hoped broaching the subject would be cathartic. Instead, in the morning he had a hangover and ten times more regrets.
Riley flipped out his cell phone and dialed. “How’s the prettiest bride in Boston today?”
Brody heard Stace laugh on the other end. He turned away, watched the hum of activity in the restaurant. Waitstaff bustling back and forth, the bartender joking with a few regulars, the tables filling and emptying like tidal pools.
“Stace loves the idea,” Riley said, closing the phone and tucking it back into his pocket. “She said to tell you our colors are—”
“Your colors?” Brody chuckled. “You have a color scheme there, Riley?”
A flush filled his younger brother’s cheeks. “Hey, if it makes Stace happy, it makes me happy. Anyway, go for bright pink and purple. Morning glories, you know?”
Brody nodded. His brother had told him about the meaning behind the diner Stace owned. The one started years before by her father, and decorated with the flowers that he had said reminded him of his daughter. A sentimental gift to a daughter he’d loved very much. “That’ll be nice.”
“Yeah,” Riley said, as a quiet smile stole across his face, “it will.”
How Brody envied his brother that smile. The peace in his features. The happiness he wore like a comfortable shirt.
It was the same thing Brody had been searching for, and not finding. He’d thought maybe if he stopped by and talked to Kate, made a step toward the promise he’d made, it would help. If anything, it had stirred a need in him to do more, to do…something.
Hence, the cupcakes. Now that he’d opened his big mouth, he’d need to go back there and place the order.
Damn.
“So how is work going?” Brody said before Riley turned the conversation around again. His brother had started an after school program at the arts centered high school he’d once attended. For creative, energetic Riley, the job fit well.
“Awesome. The kids at the Wilmont Academy are loving the program. So much, we opened it up to other kids in the area. We’re already talking about expanding it in size and number of schools.”
“That’s great.” The waitress brought their food and laid a steaming platter of mini burgers and fries in front of Riley, a Waldorf salad in front of Brody.
“Why do you eat that crap?” Brody said. “You know what it’s doing to your arteries. With our family history—”
Riley put up a hand. “I love you, Brody, I really do, but if you say anything about my fries, I’m going to have to hurt you.”
“I just worry about you.”
“And I appreciate it. I’ll do an extra mile on the treadmill tonight if that makes you feel better.”
“It does. Did you get your flu—”
Riley tick-tocked a finger. “Don’t go all doctor on me. I’m out to lunch with my brother, and we’re talking about my job. Okay?”
Brody grinned. “Okay.”
As if to add an exclamation point to the conversation, Riley popped a fry into his mouth. “Things at Wilmont, like I said, are going great. We’ve got classes in woodworking, dance, film, you name it. They’re filling up fast.”
“That’s great.”
“Oh, yeah, before I forget. We’re having a career day next month and we’re looking for people to speak to the kids about their jobs. Answer questions about education requirements, things like that.” Riley fiddled with a fry. “Maybe you could come in and do a little presentation on going into medicine. You know, a day in the life of a doctor, that kind of thing.”
Brody pushed his salad to the side, his appetite gone. “I don’t think I’m the best person to talk about that.”
Riley’s blue eyes met his brother’s. Old school rock music flowed from the sound system with a deep bass and steady beat. “You’re the perfect one. You’ve got a variety of experiences and—”
“Just drop it. Okay?” He let out a curse and shook his head. Why had he called his brother? Why had he thought it would make things better? Hell, it had done the opposite. “I just want to get you some damned cupcakes. How many do you need?”
Riley sighed. He looked like he wanted to say something more but didn’t. “There should be fifty guests. So whatever it takes to feed that many. We’re keeping it small. I figure I’ve lived enough of my life in the limelight. I want this to be special. Just me and Stace, or as close as we can get to that.”
Brody nodded. Tried not to let his envy for Riley’s happiness show. First Finn, now Riley, settled down and making families. For a long time, Brody had traveled along that path, too. He’d dated Melissa for a couple years, and he’d thought they’d get married. Then just before he took over Doc Watkin’s practice, he’d spent two weeks working for free in a clinic in Alabama, tending to people who fell into the gap between insurance and state aid. He’d been in the middle of stitching up a kid with a gaping leg wound when Melissa had called to tell him she was done, and moving on.
“Thanks,” Brody said, getting to his feet and tossing some money onto the table. He turned away, shrugged into his jacket. “I’ll let the baker know about the cupcakes.”
“Brod?”
Brody turned back. “Yeah?”
“How are you? Really?”
Brody thought of the physicals and sore throats and aches and pains waiting for him back in his office. The patients expecting him to fix them, make them better. For a month, in Afghanistan, he’d thought he was doing just that, making a difference, until—
Until he’d watched the light die in Andrew Spencer’s eyes.
“I thought I was fine,” Brody said. “But I was wrong.”
CHAPTER THREE
KATE stared at the pile of orders on her desk, the paperwork waiting to be done, but found her mind wandering to the handsome customer who had come in a couple days ago. The doctor with the Red Sox basket, who had been both friendly and…troubled. Yes, that was the word for it. She’d joked with him about spreading the word about the shop, told him it would be enough to repay her work on the basket, and he’d said—
No it won’t.
Such an odd comment to leave her with. What on earth could he have meant? She hadn’t done anything more for him than she’d do for any other customer. Changed a bow, added some feminine touches. It wasn’t like she’d handed over a kidney or anything. Maybe she’d misheard him.
Kate gave up on the work and got to her feet, crossing to the window. She looked out over the alley that ran between her shop and the one next door, then down toward the street, busy with cars passing in a blur as people headed home after work. The sound system played music Kate didn’t hear and the computer flashed messages of emails Kate didn’t read.
Her mind strayed to Dr. Brody McKenna again. She didn’t know much about him, except that he was a Red Sox fan who’d been too distracted to notice the basket he’d picked out was more suited to a male than a female. Maybe he was one of those scattered professor types. Brilliant with medicine but clueless about real life.
She sighed, then turned away from the window. She had a hundred other priorities that didn’t include daydreaming about a handsome doctor. She’d met two kinds of men in her life—lazy loafers who expected her to be their support system and driven career A-types who invested more in their jobs than their relationships.
Few heroes like Andrew, few men who lived every day with heart and passion. Until she met one like that, dating would run a distant second to a warm cup of coffee and a fresh from the oven cookie.
The shop door rang. Kate headed out front, working a smile to her face. It became a real smile when she saw her grandmother standing behind the counter, sneaking a red devil cupcake from under the glass dome. Kate put out her arms. “Grandma, what a nice surprise.”
Nora laughed as she hugged her granddaughter. “It can’t be that much of a surprise. I’m here almost every day for my sugar fix.”
Kate released Grandma from the hug. “And I’m thrilled that you are.”
Growing up, Kate had spent hours here after school, helping out in the shop and sneaking treats from under the very same glass dome. The sweet tooth came with the family dimples, she thought as she watched her grandmother peel the paper off the cupcake.
“Don’t tell your grandfather I’m sneaking another cupcake,” Nora warned, wagging a finger. “You know he thinks I’m already sweet enough.”
“That’s because he loves you.”
Nora smiled at the mention of her husband. They had the kind of happy marriage so elusive to other people, and so valuable to those blessed with that gift. Unlike Kate’s parents, who had turned fighting into a daily habit, Nora doted on her husband, always had, she said, and always would.
Nora popped a bite of cupcake in her mouth then looked around the shop. “How are things going here?”
“Busy.”
“How’s the hunt for a second location?”
Kate shrugged. “I haven’t done much toward that yet.”
“You had plans—”
“That was before, Grandma. Before…” She shook her head.
Nora laid a hand on Kate’s shoulder. “I understand.”
When Andrew had been alive, buying and opening new locations had been part of their business plan. But ever since he’d died, she’d had to work at keeping to that plan. Months ago, she’d found a spot for a second location in Weymouth, but had yet to visit it or run the numbers, all signs that she wasn’t as enthused as she used to be.
Her grandmother smiled. “I like the idea of another Nora’s Sweet Shop, but I worry about you, honey. If you want to take some time off, I’d be glad to step in and help. Your grandpa, too.”
Kate looked at her eighty-three-year-old grandmother. She knew Nora would step in any time Kate asked her, but she wouldn’t expect or ask that of Nora. “I know you would, and I appreciate that but I’m okay. You guys do enough for me making the daytime deliveries.”
Nora waved that off. “It keeps us busy and gets us out of the house. You know we like tooling around town, stopping in to see the regular customers.”
“You two deserve to enjoy your golden years, not spend them working over a hot oven. Besides, I’m doing fine, Grandma.”
Nora brushed a strand of hair off Kate’s face. “No you’re not.”
Kate nodded, then shook her head, and cursed the tears that rushed to her eyes. “I just…miss him.”
She didn’t add that she regretted, to the depth of her being, ever encouraging her brother to join the military. Maybe if she’d pushed him in another direction, or dismissed the idea of the military, he’d be here today.
Tears shimmered in Nora’s eyes, too. She had doted on her grandson, and though she’d been proud of his military service, she had worried every minute of his deployment. “We all do. But he wouldn’t want you to be sitting around, missing him. If there was one thing your brother did well, it was live his life. Remember the time he went parachuting off that mountain?”
Despite the tears, Kate smiled. Her brother had been a wild child, from the second he was born. He approached life head on—and never looked back. “And the time he skydived for the first time. Oh, and that crazy swim with the sharks trip he took.” Kate shook her head. “He lived on the edge.”
“While the rest of us stayed close to terra firma.” Nora smiled. “But in the end, he always came back home.”
“His heart was here.”
“It was indeed,” Nora said. “And he would want you to be happy, to celebrate your life, not bury it in work.”
Before he left for Afghanistan, Andrew had tried to talk to her about the future. When he’d started on the what-ifs, she’d refused to listen, afraid of what might happen. Now, she regretted that choice. Maybe if she’d heard him out, she might have the secret to his risk taking. Something to urge her down the path they had planned for so long.
Andrew had soared the skies for the rest of them while the other Spencers offered caution, wisdom. She missed that about him, but knew she should also learn from him. Remember that life was short and to live every moment with gusto. Even if doing so seemed impossible some days. Kate swiped away the tears. “I’ll try to remember that.”
“Good.” Nora patted her granddaughter on the shoulder. Then her gaze shifted to the picture window at the front of the shop. She nodded toward the door. “Ooh. Handsome man alert. Did you put on your lipstick?”
Kate laughed. Leave it to Nora to be sure her granddaughter was primped and ready should Mr. Right stride on by. Her grandmother lived in perpetual hope for great grandchildren that she could spoil ten times more than she’d spoiled her grandchildren. “Grandma, I’m not interested in dating right now.”
“I think this guy will change your mind about that. Take a look.”
The door opened and Brody McKenna strode inside. Kate’s heart tripped a little. The doctor’s piercing blue eyes zeroed in on hers, and the world dropped away.
She cleared her throat. “Back for another basket, Doctor?”
Way to go, Kate, establish it as a business only relationship. In the end, the best choice. Hadn’t she watched her parents’ marriage, started on a whim, with major differences in goals and values, disintegrate? She wanted a steady, dependable base, not a man who made her heart race and erased her common sense, regardless of the way Brody’s lopsided smile and ocean blue eyes flipped a switch inside her.
“I just came by to thank you,” he said. “The basket was a big hit. My grandmother sends her regards and her gratitude for the cherry chocolates. Especially those. In fact, I’m under strict orders to buy some more.”
“Those are my favorites, too,” Nora said. She leaned over the counter and put out a hand. “I’m Nora Spencer.”
He smiled. “Ah, the famous Nora in Nora’s Sweet Shop.” He shook hands with her, and Kate swore she saw her eighty-three-year-old grandma blush. “Brody McKenna.”
Nora arched a brow. “You’re a doctor, you said?”
Kate wanted to elbow her grandmother but Nora had already stepped out of reach. Under the counter, she waved her hand, but Grandma ignored the hint.
“Yes, ma’am,” Brody said. “I own a family practice right down the street from here. I took over for Doc Watkins.”
“Oh, I remember him,” Nora said. “Nice guy. Except for when he was losing at golf. Then he was grumpy. Every Wednesday, he played, so I learned never to make an appointment for first thing Thursday morning.”
Brody chuckled. “Yep, you have him down to a tee.”
Kate and her grandmother laughed at the pun. Then Nora tapped her chin, and studied Brody. “Wait…McKenna. Aren’t you that doctor that volunteers all the time? Or something like that? I read about a charity your family heads up. Doctors and Borders or something like that.”
“Medicine Across Borders.” He shifted from foot to foot. “Yes, I’m involved in that. We travel the country and the world, providing volunteer medical help to people in need.”
The name of the organization sounded familiar to Kate, but she figured maybe because she’d seen something in the news about it. Brody McKenna, however, seemed unnerved by talking about the group. His gaze darted to the right, and his posture tensed. Maybe he was one of those men who didn’t like his charity work to be a big deal. A behind the scenes kind of guy.
Nora leaned in closer to him. “So tell me, Doctor McKenna, is there a Mrs. Doctor?”
“Grandma,” Kate hissed. “Stop that.” Still, Kate checked his left hand. No ring. The doctor was a single man. And she didn’t care. At all.
Uh-huh.
“No, ma’am, there isn’t a Mrs. Doctor,” Brody said. “But I am here about a wedding that’s in the near future.”
Disappointment filled Kate. She told herself to quit those thoughts. She’d seen the man once for a few minutes and she didn’t care if he married her next door neighbor or the Queen of England. For goodness sake, she’d turned into an emotional wreck today. And it was only Tuesday.
“I’d be glad to help you with that,” she said, pulling out an order pad and a pen. “What do you need?”
“It’s not for me. It’s for my brother.”
“Wonderful,” Nora said. “In that case, we’re even more glad to help you.”
“Grandma, stop,” Kate hissed again.
“It is nice to find such helpful and beautiful service in this city,” Brody said with a smile.
Nora elbowed Kate. A little thrill ran through her at his words. Why did she care?
Darn those eyes of his.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Brody said. “I’m as far from getting married as a man can be. This is for my little brother, Riley. He’s getting married next Saturday and it’s a small, private affair, but I thought it would be nice to provide the dessert so his new bride doesn’t have to cook it. She owns a diner in the city. Maybe you’ve heard of it. The Morning Glory.”
“I’ve seen it before when I’ve been in the city,” Kate said, stepping in with a change of subject before her grandmother found a way to turn a diner, a brother’s wedding and a cupcake order into an opportunity for matchmaking. After all, hadn’t Brody just said he had no interest in marriage? That screamed stay away, commitment-phobic bachelor. “Didn’t the diner host an animal shelter thing a month ago?”
“It did. Went well. The diner’s main chef is on a trip to Europe and they’ve got a new one filling in, but I think doing the dessert and the food might be a bit overwhelming for him. Plus it’s a nice way for me to show my support for my brother and his new wife. As well as give some business to a local shop.”
It all sounded plausible, but still, something about the story Brody told gave Kate pause. She couldn’t put her finger on it. Why come here? To this shop? There were a hundred bakeries in the area, several dedicated to weddings. Why her shop?
She decided to stop looking a gift horse in the mouth. She needed the income, and she’d be crazy to turn down the opportunity to get Nora’s Sweet Shop name out there. Especially if she sthe tuck to the plan about expanding, every public event was an opportunity to spread the word, ease into new markets.
“You’ve come to the right place,” Nora said, as if reading Kate’s mind. “We’ve done lots of weddings.”
“Yeah, I saw that cupcake thing you had in the window. My brother and his fiancé thought it’d be a great idea because they’re having their wedding and reception at the diner. It’s going to be more low-key than your traditional big cake and band kind of thing. They aren’t your typical couple, either, and loved the idea of an atypical cake.”
Kate thought a second while she tapped her pen on the order pad. “We could do a whole morning glory theme. Put faux flowers on top of the cupcakes and arrange them like a bouquet.”
Brody nodded. “I like that. Great idea. And I know Stace—that’s the bride—will love it, too. The diner is important to her.”
The praise washed over Kate. She’d had dozens of customers rave about the shop’s unique sweets. Why did this one man’s—a stranger’s—words affect her so? “How many people are we serving?”
“Uh, about fifty. I think that’s what my brother said.”
“Sounds great.” She jotted some notes on the order pad, adding the details about the cupcakes, his name and the date of the event. Considering the number of orders already stacked up in her kitchen, adding his one into the mix would take some doing. Thank God she had her assistant Joanne to help. Joanne had the experience of ten bakers and had been with the shop for so many years, neither Kate or Nora could remember when she’d started.
“And what about a phone number?” Nora piped in. Kate shot her grandmother a glare, but Nora just smiled. “In case we need to get a hold of you.”
Brody rattled off a number. “That’s my office, which is where I usually am most days. Do you want my cell, too?”
“No,” Kate said.
“Yes,” Nora said. Louder.
Brody gave them the second number, then paused a second, like he wanted to say something else. He glanced across the room, at what, Kate wasn’t sure. The cupcake display? The awards and accolades posted on the wall? “So, uh, thanks,” he said, his attention swiveling back to her.
“You’re welcome. And thank you for the order.”
“You said spread the word.” He shrugged and gave her a lopsided grin. “I did. I’m sorry it wasn’t more.”
She chuckled. “I appreciate all business that comes my way.”
Again, he seemed to hesitate, but in the end, he just nodded toward her, said he’d call her if he thought of anything else, then headed out the door. Kate watched him go, even more intrigued than before. Why did this doctor keep her mind whirring?
“Why did you keep trying to fix us up?” Kate asked Nora when the door had shut behind Brody.
“Because he is a very handsome man and you are a very interested woman.”
“I’m not at all.”
“Coulda fooled me with those googly eyes.”
Kate grabbed the order pad off the counter and tucked the pen in her pocket. “My eyes are on one thing and one thing only. Keeping this shop running and sticking to the plan for expansion.” Her gaze went to the article on the wall, the only one that truly mattered. To the plans she’d had, plans that seemed stalled on the ground, no matter how hard she tried to move them forward. “Because I promised I would.”
* * *
Brody tried. He really did. He put in the hours, he smiled and joked, he filled out the charts, dispensed the prescriptions. But he still couldn’t fit back into the shoes he’d left when he’d gone to Afghanistan. After all his other medical mission trips, he’d come back refreshed, ready to tackle his job with renewed enthusiasm. But not this time. And he knew why.
Because of Andrew Spencer.
Every day, Brody pulled the card out of his wallet, and kicked himself for not doing what he’d promised to do. Somehow, he had to find a way to start helping Kate Spencer. He’d seen the grief in her eyes, heard it in her voice. Andrew had asked Brody to make sure his sister moved on, followed her heart, and didn’t let the loss of him weigh her down, and do it without telling her the truth. That he had been the one tending Andrew when he’d died.
She doesn’t handle loss real well, Doc. She’ll blame herself for encouraging me to go over here, and that’ll just make her hurt more. Take care of her—
But don’t tell her why you’re doing it. I don’t want her blaming herself or dwelling on the past. I want her eyes on the future. Encourage her to take a risk, to pursue her dreams. Don’t let her spend one more second grieving or regretting.
When Brody had agreed, the promise had seemed easy. Check in on Kate Spencer, make sure she was okay, and maybe down the road, tell her about the incredible man her brother had been, and how Brody had known him. But now…
He couldn’t seem to do any of the above.
Maybe if he wrote it down first, it would make the telling easier. He could take his time, find the words he needed.
The last patient of the day had left, as had Mrs. Maguire, and Brody sat in his office. His charts were done, which meant he could leave at any time. Head to his grandmother’s for the weekly family dinner, or home to his empty apartment. Instead, he pulled out a sheet of blank paper, grabbed a pen, then propped the card up on his desk.
I never expected to bond with Andrew Spencer. To me, he was my guardian—and at times, a hindrance to the work I wanted to do, because he’d make me and the other doctors wait while he and his fellow troops cleared an area, double checked security, in short, protected our lives.
All I heard was a ticking clock of sick and dying people, but he was smarter than me, and reminded me time and again that if the doctors died, then the people surely would, too. That was Andrew Spencer—putting the good of all far ahead of the good of himself. He risked his life for us many times. But the last time—
Brody’s cell rang, dancing across the oak surface of his desk. He considered letting it go to voicemail, but in the end answering the phone was easier than writing the letter. “Hello?”
“Dr. McKenna, this is Kate down at Nora’s Sweet Shop.” Even over the phone, Kate’s voice had the same sweet tone as in person. Brody liked the sound of her voice. Very much. Maybe too much. “I’m calling because there’s a problem with your cupcake order. I…I can’t fill it. My assistant had to go out of town today because her first grandchild came a little early, and that leaves me short-handed with a whole lot of orders, not to mention a huge one due tonight. Anyway, I took the liberty of calling another bakery in town and they said they’ll be happy to take care of that for you. No extra charge, and I assure you their work is as good as mine.”
Kate Spencer was in a bind. He could hear the stress in her voice, the tension stringing her words together. He thought of that card in his pocket, and of the promise he’d made to Andrew to help Kate. Now, it turned out that Brody’s order had only added to her stress level.
“Anyway, let me give you the name and number of the other bakery,” she said. “They’re expecting your call, and have all my order notes.”
Brody took down the number, jotting it on a Post-it beside the letter he’d been working on. His gaze skimmed the words he’d been writing again. That was Andrew Spencer—putting the good of all far ahead of the good of himself.
It was as if Andrew was nudging Brody from beyond the grave. Do something, you fool. You said you would. “Is there any way I can help?” Brody asked.
She laughed. “Unless you can come up with an experienced baker in thirty minutes who is free for the next few days, then no. But don’t worry, we’ll be fine. I do feel bad about the last minute notice on changing suppliers, but I assure you the other bakery will do a great job. Thanks again for the business, and please consider us in the future.”
“In case I ever have another wedding to buy a cake for?”
“Well, you are a doctor,” she said with a little laugh. “You know, most desirable kind of bachelor there is. God, I can’t believe I said that. Something about being on the phone loosens my tongue to say stupid things.” She exhaled. “I’m sorry.”
“No, no, I’m flattered. Really. Most people who come to see me are complaining about something or other. It’s nice to get a compliment once in a while.”
She laughed again, a light lyrical sound that lit his heart. For the first time in days, it felt like sunshine had filled the room. “Well, good. I’m glad to brighten your day. Anyway, thanks again.”
“Anytime.” She was going to hang up, and his business with Kate Spencer would be through, unless he found a reason to buy a lot of chocolate filled baskets. He glanced again at the words on the page, but no brilliant way to keep her on the line came to mind.
“Thank you for understanding, Dr. McKenna.” She said goodbye, then the connection ended. He stared at the phone and the number he’d written down for a long, long time. He read over his attempt at the letter, as half hearted as his attempts to keep his promise, then crumpled it into a ball and tossed it in the trash. Then he got his coat and headed out the door, walking fast.
Thirty minutes wasn’t a lot of time to change a future, but Brody was sure going to try.
CHAPTER FOUR
WIND battered the small building and rain pattered against the windows of Nora’s Sweet Shop. A fall storm, asserting its strength and warning of winter’s imminent arrival. Kate sat at her desk, flipping through the thick stack of yellow order sheets.
She had two corporate orders. Three banquets. And now, the McKenna wedding—well, no, that one was safely in another bakery’s hands. A lot of work for one bakery, never mind one person. On any other day, she’d be grateful for the influx of work. But today, it all just felt…overwhelming. She glanced over at the folder on her desk, filled with notes about expansions and new locations, then glanced away. That would have to be put on hold. For a long time.
Always before, baking had been her solace, the place where she could lose herself and find a sweet contentment that came from making something that would make people smile. But ever since Andrew’s death, that passion for her job had wavered, disappearing from time to time like sunshine on a cloudy day.
Now, without her assistant on board, she knew getting the job done would take a Herculean effort. Best to just roll up her sleeves and get it done.
She glanced at the dark, angry sky. “I can’t do this without you,” she whispered to the storm above. Thunder rumbled disagreement. “We were supposed to expand this business together, take Nora’s Sweet Shop to the masses. Remember? That’s what you always said, Andrew. Now you’re gone and I’m alone and trying like hell to stick to the plan. But…” she released a long, heavy sigh, “it’s hard. So hard. I’m not the risk taker. I’m not the adventurer. You were. And now, the shop is in trouble and I…I need…help.”
The bell over the door jingled. Kate jerked to her feet. For a second, she thought she’d round the corner and see Andrew, with his teasing grin and quick wit. Instead, she found the last answer she’d expect.
Brody McKenna.
He stomped off the rain on his shoes, swiped the worst of the wet from his hair, and offered her a sheepish smile, looking lost and sexy all at the same time. A part of her wanted to give him a good meal, a warm blanket, and a hug. She stopped that thought before it embedded itself in her mind. Dr. McKenna embodied dark, brooding, mysterious. A risk for a woman’s heart if she’d ever seen one.
“Dr. McKenna, nice to see you again.” She came out from behind the counter, cursing herself for smoothing at her hair and shirt as she did. “Did you have a problem with the other bakery?”
“No, no. I haven’t even called them yet.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot. The rain had darkened his lashes, and made his blue eyes seem even bluer. More like a tempestuous sea, rolling with secrets in its depths. “I, ah, stopped by to see if you had eaten.”
She blinked. “If I had eaten?”
“I live near here and every night when I walk home, I see the light on.” He took two steps closer. “Every morning when I leave for work, I see the light on in here.” He took another two steps, then a few more, until he stood inches away from her, that deep blue ocean drawing her in, captivating her. “And it makes me wonder whether you ever go home or ever have time to have a decent meal.”
“I…” She couldn’t find a word to say. No one outside her immediate family had ever said anything like that to her. Worried that she’d eaten, worried that she worked too hard. Why did this man care? Was it just the doctor in him? Or something more? “I won’t starve, believe me. I have a frozen meal in the back. I’ll wolf it down between baking.”
“That’s not healthy.”
She shrugged. “It’s part of being a business owner. Take the bad with the good. And right now, the good is…well, a little harder to find.” She didn’t add that she planned on keeping herself busy in the kitchen because it kept her from thinking. From dwelling. From talking to people who were no longer here.
Brody leaned against the counter, his height giving him at least a foot’s advantage over her. For a second, she wondered what it would be like to lean into that height, to put her head against his broad chest, to tell him her troubles and share her burdens.
Then she got a grip and shook her head. He was asking her about her eating habits, chiding her about working too much. Not offering to be her confidante. Or anything more.
“Listen, I eat alone way too often,” he said. “Like you, I work a lot more hours than I probably should and end up trading healthy food for fast food.”
She laughed. “Doctor, heal thyself?”
“Yeah, something like that. So why don’t we eat together, and then you can get back to baking or whatever it is you’re doing here. It’s a blustery night, the kind when you need a warm meal and some good company. Not something packaged and processed.”
Damn, that sounded good. Tempting. Comforting.
Perfect.
Despite her reservations, a smile stole across Kate’s face. “And are you the good company?”
“That you’ll have to decide for yourself.” He grinned. “My head nurse thinks I’m a pain in the neck, but my grandmother sings my praises.”
She laughed. “Isn’t that what grandmothers are supposed to do?”
“I do believe that’s Chapter One in the Good Grandma Handbook.”
Kate laughed again. Her stomach let out a rumble at the thought of a real meal. Twice a week she went to Nora’s for dinner, but the rest of her meals were consumed on the run. Quick bites between filling baking pans and spreading icing. Brody had a point about her diet being far from healthy. “Well, I am hungry.”
“Me, too. And I don’t know about you, but I…I don’t want to eat alone tonight.”
She thought of the gray sky, the stormy rumbles from the clouds and the conversations she’d had with her dead brother. “Me, either,” Kate said softly.
Brody thumbed to the east. “There’s a great little place down the street. The Cast Iron Skillet. Have you been there?”
The rumble in her stomach became a full-out roar. “I ate there a couple times after they first opened. They have an amazing cast iron chicken. Drizzled with garlic butter and served with mashed sweet potatoes. Okay, now I’m salivating.”
“Then drool with me and let’s get a table.”
Drool with him? She was already drooling over him. Temptation coiled inside her. Damn those blue eyes of his.
She hesitated for a fraction of a second, then decided the work had waited this long, it could wait a little longer. She wasn’t being much use in the kitchen right now anyway, and couldn’t seem to get on track. Not to mention, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a meal that hadn’t come from the microwave. She grabbed her jacket and purse from under the counter, then her umbrella from the stand by the door. “Here,” she said, handing it to him, “let’s be smart before we go out in the rain.”
But as Kate left the shop and turned the lock in the door, she had to wonder if letting the handsome doctor talk her into a dinner that sounded a lot like a date was smart. At all.
* * *
The food met its promise, but Brody didn’t notice. He’d been captivated by Kate Spencer from the day he met her, and the more time he spent with her, the more intrigued he became. What had started as a way to get to know the person whom Andrew had raved about, the one who had written that card to her brother and sent Andrew so many care packages he’d joked he could have opened a store, had become something more. Something bigger.
Something Brody danced around in his mind but knew would lead to trouble. He was here to fulfill a promise, not fall for Andrew’s sister.
Kate took a deep drink of her ice water then stretched her shoulders. She’d already devoured half her dinner, which told Brody he’d made the right decision in inviting her out. Like him, he suspected she spent more time worrying about others than about herself.
For the tenth time he wondered what had spurred him to invite her to dinner, when he’d gone over to the shop tonight to just check in on her, ask her how business was going, and somehow direct the conversation to expansions. Drop a few words in her ear about what a good idea that would be then be on his way, mission accomplished. Once again, his intentions and actions had gone in different directions. Maybe because he was having trouble seeing how to make those intentions work.
“I forgot…what kind of medicine do you practice?” she asked, as she forked up a bite of chicken. The restaurant’s casual ambience, created by earth tone décor and cozy booths, had drawn dozens of couples and several families. The murmur of conversation rose and fell like a wave.
“Family practice,” Brody said. “I see kids with runny noses. Parents with back aches. I’ve administered more flu shots than I can count, and taped up more sprained ankles than the folks at Ace bandage.”
She laughed. “That must be rewarding.”
“It is. I’ve gotten to know a lot of people over the years, their families, too, and it’s nice to be a part of helping them live their lives to the fullest. When they take my advice, of course.” He grinned.
“Stubborn patients who keep on eating fast food and surfing the sofa?”
He nodded. “All things in moderation, I tell them. Honestly, most of my job is just about…listening.”
“How so?”
“Patients, by and large, know the right things to do. Sometimes, they just want someone to hear them say they’re worried about the chances of having a heart attack, or scared about a cancer diagnosis. They want someone to—”
“Care.”
“Exactly. And my job is to do that then try to fix whatever ails them.” Which he’d done here, many times, but when it had counted—
He hadn’t fixed Andrew, not at all. He’d done his best, and he’d failed.
“Where did you start out? I mean, residency.” Kate’s question drew Brody back to the present.
“Mass General’s ER. That’s a crazy job, especially in Boston. You never know what’s going to come through the door. It was exciting and vibrant and…insane. At the end of the day, I could have slept for a week.” He chuckled. “The total opposite of a family practice in a lot of ways. Not to say I don’t have my share of emergencies, but it’s less hectic. I have more time with my patients in family practice, which is nice.”
“I have a cousin in Detroit who works in the ER. I don’t think he’s been off for a single holiday.”
“That’s life in the ER, that’s for sure.” Brody got a taste of that ER life every time he went on a medical mission trips and again in Afghanistan. “That’s one of the perks Doc Watkins told me about when I took over the practice. There are days when all those runny noses can get a bit predictable, but by and large, I really enjoy my work.”
“Same with cupcakes. Decorated one, decorated a thousand.” She laughed. “Though I do like to experiment with different flavors and toppings. And the chocolates—those leave lots of room for creativity.”
“Do you ever want to step out of the box, and do something totally different?”
“I have plans to.” She fiddled with her fork. “My brother and I always wanted to expand Nora’s Sweet Shop, to take it national, maybe even start franchising. Andrew was the one with the big, risky ideas. I’m a little more cautious, but when he talked, I signed on for the ride. He was so enthusiastic, that he got me excited about the idea, too.”
“And have you expanded yet?” Brody crossed his hands in front of him, his dinner forgotten. Here was what he had come here to discuss, though he got the feeling it wasn’t a subject Kate really liked visiting.
She shook her head. “I’ve thought about it. Even found a property in Weymouth that I saw online, but…” Kate sighed, “ever since Andrew died, it’s been hard to get enthusiastic about the idea again. I know he’d want me to push forward but…it’s hard.”
Guilt weighed heavy on Brody’s shoulders. Maybe if he’d been a better doctor, if he’d found a way to save Andrew, her brother would be here now, and Kate wouldn’t be debating about opening another location. She’d be celebrating with Andrew.
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