Heart's Haven
Lois Richer
Handsome Boss Otherwise how would chef Cassidy Preston ever quit her job? Cooking at The Haven, a new outreach mission in Chicago, was temporary–payback for a huge favor. But the shelter was Tyson St. John's life. And it provided him a place to raise his orphaned nephew, a boy sorely in need of a mother figure and Ty's love.But something was holding Ty back from opening that hardened heart of his. Something Cassidy found herself working overtime to uncover. And, once she did, she'd have to prove to Ty that she should have a very permanent position…as his wife!
Heart’s Haven
Lois Richer
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter One
Chicago
January 2
Six years with temperamental chefs in kitchens around the world had not prepared Cassidy Preston for this.
Like fingernails on a chalkboard, the scraping of steel against steel scratched through a blue-gray fog. Smoke swirled within her throat, filling her nostrils with the acrid stench of—porridge? Cassidy wrinkled her nose to block it from her lungs.
Wincing at the painful din, Cassidy stepped across the littered room and grabbed the battered pot from the man’s hand. She then scanned the kitchen, found and flicked a wall switch. The exhaust fan wheezed to life and the smoke cleared, allowing her to peer into eyes so richly blue she might have been back in Greece, staring into the Aegean.
“Excuse me.”
“Certainly.” Long, elegant fingers dropped the slotted spoon he’d been using as a pot scraper. He pressed a hip against the center island, tilted his head to one side. “You’re excused. Now may I have that back?”
“It’s a saucepan.”
“Yes, I know.” Amusement bubbled through his words.
“Which is for making sauces. Cooking. Things like that.” Cassidy slid her nail tip over the charred bottom. “In my experience, saucepans are more effective if you don’t fossilize your meal in them. That way you can use them again.”
He didn’t respond. Instead he studied her with the lazy, relaxed manner of a man who had all the time in the world to lounge around. And he might well have.
She didn’t.
But his silence offered Cassidy time to note his mussed jumble of almost-curls that framed a face made for the stubbled look. The Romanesque nose didn’t diminish his appearance, nor did the dimples at the sides of his mouth. A faint scar on the edge of his chin only enhanced the chiseled jawline.
He was gorgeous.
But Cassidy wasn’t here to admire handsome men. In fact, she would only be here long enough to work off her debt to Elizabeth Wisdom.
He crossed one long, lean leg over the other, stubbed a booted toe against a mark on the tile floor as if scraping one blob of scorched food from its filthy surface would make any difference.
Cassidy cleared her throat.
He lifted his head, blinked incredibly long lashes. Said nothing.
She raised her eyebrows expectantly.
His eyes danced, amused by her impatience.
“Tell you what. Since I belong here and you don’t, perhaps you’d better tell me who you are.”
Cassidy didn’t think he belonged here. Not in a kitchen. Not in that white shirt—silk if she wasn’t mistaken. The jacket—a designer brand for sure. Probably Italian.
No. He didn’t look like he belonged in this mess.
But he did look like trouble.
The tall, rich and handsome kind of trouble.
“You do have a name, don’t you?” he asked.
Add sense of humor to his assets.
“Of course I have a name. It’s Cassidy.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her left ear. “Cassidy Preston. Elizabeth Wisdom sent me. Apparently I’m to be the chef here for the next six months.”
“You’re the cook?” Sapphire deepened to impenetrable cobalt. The dimples vanished. He unfolded from his lazy stance and straightened. “Oh.”
Not exactly the welcome she’d expected. He loomed over her, a few inches above six feet with perfect wide shoulders.
Just right for a girl to tuck her head against.
Not going to happen. A lying boss and a cheating fiancé had only reinforced what Cassidy had already learned from her father that men were not to be trusted.
No need for a refresher course.
“Ms. Preston?”
Even his voice was good-looking.
Cassidy blinked back to awareness, shook her head to silence her brain’s warm hum. The straight-cut ends of her hair swung free, tickled her nose then fell right back into place against her jaw, which was exactly what she expected from her hairstyle. If only her life would work out that way.
Again, the man peered at her with that questioning stare, as if he’d said something and now awaited her response.
“Uh, yes, I’m the cook. Chef,” she corrected. “Which is how I know saucepans need a little more care than this one’s had. I’ll need to use it. Preferably without charcoal.”
He shook his head in mock reproof, eyes twinkling.
“We’re not going to harp on a little burn, are we? At this rate, we’ll never get anything done.”
She cast a dubious glance at the mess surrounding them.
“You’ve actually done something here?”
“Breakfast. Before that I was assessing.” His left eye wrinkled into a rogue’s wink while his lips curved upward in a lazy grin. He ambled toward her with the supreme confidence of a man fully in control of his universe. “It might not look difficult but it’s really draining, trust me.”
Trust him? Not with those daredevil eyes.
In spite of that resolution, Cassidy’s breath logjammed as a whiff of his cologne tickled her nostrils. She’d always been a sucker for citrus. Ignoring this man was not going to be easy.
“Um—”
“I’m Tyson St. John. Ty to my friends. I am, or will be, the director of this place when it’s up and running.” He thrust out one hand, grasped hers. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Cassidy Preston. Will it cause you grief if I suggest the saucepan is beyond repair?”
The touch of his skin against hers ratcheted up Cassidy’s respiration. Her knees turned to chicken noodle soup. Score ten for that killer smile.
Was this what they called charisma?
He cannot be trusted.
The warning that had carried her safely through the past popped up and jerked her back like a safety harness. She could not trust him.
Cassidy fought free of his magnetism. Why couldn’t her new boss have been a sweet, chubby old man with bow legs and a face like a prune?
Her fingers tingled. She glanced down. Their hands were still melded together.
“Are you all right?”
Define all right. She had to survive six months of him. Judging by her overreaction, it wasn’t going to be a cakewalk. Dragging her fingers from his grip, Cassidy backed up two steps, inhaled a cleansing breath.
Cassidy completed a quick visual inspection of the room. “I don’t know what to call this.”
“Try chaos.” An amused smile twisted his lips.
“Have you considered a cleaning service?”
“All part of my assessment.” He waved a hand in front of his face, then coughed. “Besides a new kitchen, I guess we also need a new exhaust fan. That one sounds bad.”
At last, something about which she could speak intelligently.
“They work better if they’re clean. Most things do.” Her brain took in what was there and its condition, ignoring the hot plate he’d used. “This place will need some refurbishment. Has the budget been set yet?”
“The Wisdom Foundation has been very generous.” An infusion of starch altered his lazy manner. “This building wasn’t cheap, but it’s in the perfect location, and I think it’s exactly what Gail would’ve wanted.”
“Gail?”
The moment the word left her lips, his eyes froze. Tyson St. John didn’t have to say a word. Any fool could guess from his reaction that Gail was someone special. His wife?
“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“Don’t be. It’s only—” After a moment’s pause he grudgingly offered details. “Gail was the one with the view for this project—the Haven, that’s what she wanted to call it.” He tilted his head just the slightest degree, as if to hide his expression. “She saw it as a place where the hungry could come for a decent meal, where the homeless could find a bed and some warmth. A kind of community center.”
“Well, there’s certainly enough room to do all that in this old school. It’s huge.”
Tyson St. John remained silent while she navigated the kitchen, opened sticky cupboard doors and peered into the dingy storeroom. He said nothing when she checked the interior of the ancient cooler and hastily backed away from the odor. He didn’t even comment when she rattled the doors of the cast-iron monstrosity that had served as a stove in some previous lifetime.
Cassidy didn’t say anything, either. But her heart sank faster than a stone thrown into Lake Michigan. It looked like nothing had changed since the building had been built. When she saw the narrow darkness of the receiving staircase she couldn’t suppress a groan.
“What’s wrong?’
“Transporting supplies up and down that will be a killer.” She pushed open the door to an adjoining room and walked inside. Remnants of cafeteria tables and chairs lay all over the place.
“The dining room,” he said from behind her, as if she hadn’t already figured that out.
“Any idea how many people you expect to serve?”
Tyson St. John’s shoulders went back. His brows drew together. He swallowed then shook his head.
“I’m, um, that is—er, I don’t think we’re that far yet. We only received possession of the property two months ago.”
Two months? Surely his assessing should have been finished.
Frustration nipped at Cassidy’s nerves, winching them a notch tighter. She’d expected to walk in here and get right to work, but with the kitchen not even ready to boil water, she foresaw her time extending exponentially.
“Mr. St. John—”
“Ty,” he insisted.
“Ty. Since I’ll only be here just six months,” she emphasized softly, “I’d like to get to work as quickly as possible. Do you have a schedule for start-up?”
The welcome in those clear blue eyes frosted up. Goodbye sense of humor.
“We have a rough plan. My thought was that we would get your input before we made a decision on any big changes in the kitchen.”
“My input.” She seized the opportunity. “All right then. Do you have a pen?”
When he blinked Cassidy knew he wasn’t prepared for her list. She’d give it to him anyway. They couldn’t afford to waste time deciding who did what. January in Chicago was frigid and the homeless people would need a place to come to.
She removed her coat, pulled a black marker out of her purse, picked up a hunk of cardboard from the floor and laid it on the counter. As she wrote, she spoke.
“Most of the money will have to go toward the big-ticket items. Cooler, freezer. We’ll need a new stove. I can manage with the pots and pans that are here. Now for small wares.” She checked the cupboards, shrugged. “Not bad. I bring my own knives, so we can manage for now. I am going to need a mixer though.”
She kept going, printing the things she needed—clearly and legibly so there would be no mistake about her requests.
“Wait!”
Cassidy froze at the barked order, peeked over one shoulder at her boss. His eyes gaped; he looked stunned.
Sympathy rose. She did tend to get carried away sometimes.
“Don’t worry, I can adapt to minimal conditions. Now in regard to helpers—I’ll need two. Full-time. Strong, willing to learn, not afraid of correction. It’s important—”
“Ms. Preston, would you please stop?”
“Stop?”
“Yes. Stop.” The relaxed demeanor had vanished, replaced by the deportment of a man used to giving orders.
The change in him made Cassidy catch her breath. Angry or teasing, he was still very good-looking, even when his eyes hardened to glacial chips and the steel in his voice warned her he wouldn’t easily relinquish control.
“I realize you are a fully qualified chef, Ms. Preston, and that this must be a bit of a comedown for you. But the Haven is not—”
“Hey, Ty!” The yell was punctuated by the echo of an elephant herd tromping downstairs. A boy burst into the room. Well, not quite a boy. A preteen? “You’ll never believe what I found.”
Tyson St. John sighed as he raked a hand through his hair.
“No, I probably won’t. Jack, this is Ms. Preston. She’s a chef. Elizabeth Wisdom sent her to cook for us.” His mouth tightened as he drew the boy forward. “This is my nephew, Ms. Preston. Meet Jackson Dorfman.”
Cassidy found the introduction stilted, but had no time to dwell on it as Jack jerked away from the contact and frowned at her.
“A cook, huh? What kind?”
He was testing her. That belligerence, the bottom lip jutting out, the glare from those bittersweet brown eyes—all characteristic signs of onset teenager-hood. Two younger sisters had educated Cassidy in the challenges of that particular age very well. It was not an experience she yearned to repeat.
“It’s nice to meet you, Jack.” Cassidy met the glare head-on. “What kind of cook do you want?”
“I-I don’t know.” He seemed surprised by the question, not quite ready to back down, a bit curious. “You’re not going to make things like liver pâté, are you? Or those things like clams that slide off slimy shells? Ty ordered them when we went for a fancy dinner one time.”
She swallowed her laughter, kept her face straight. “Do you mean oysters?”
“Yeah, I guess. They were gross!”
Ty, good humor restored, winked at her before turning Jack to face him.
“I think I can safely assure you that Ms. Preston will not be offering oysters on her menu. Am I right?” he asked, glancing her way.
“I’m afraid so.” She kept her face straight through a gargantuan effort. “At the Haven we will have to settle for things like beef stew, hot dogs, maybe some hamburgers. Once in a while, we might have to have roast beef, or maybe fried chicken. Unfortunately, I might even be forced to include pizza occasionally.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Cassidy could see Ty’s shoulders shake at her sad tone. She ignored him.
“That won’t be too awful, will it, Jack?”
“Mom always said God answers prayer.” Like lightning, the subject changed as Jack grabbed Ty’s arm and yanked on it. “You’ve got to come see what I’ve found. It’s the weirdest mirror. Come on!”
“Okay, okay, I’ll be there in a minute.” Ty shook his head at the burst of pounding footsteps overhead. “Remember, Jack,” he called. “Be careful.”
“Hurry!”
Cassidy was surprised by the soft look of yearning that washed over Tyson St. John’s face as he gazed after his nephew, when just moments ago there had been stiffness in his attitude with the boy that she didn’t understand.
“I’m really sorry Elizabeth didn’t tell you that we aren’t quite ready to open, Cassidy.” Ty gnawed on his bottom lip. “I don’t suppose you could get your boss to hire you back for a month or so, just until we get things shipshape?”
“I’d have to go back to Greece to do that and I don’t think it would be worth it for one month.” Cassidy kept her expression neutral as she surveyed the area. “I’ll get settled in my place over the weekend. Monday morning I’ll start cleaning in here. If you can find some helpers—”
A tremendous crash above them cut off the rest of her words. Ty instantly froze. One word whispered from his lips.
“Jack.”
It took a second before he turned and raced out of the room, his footsteps hammering the stairs as he charged upward. Cassidy followed, besieged by memories. Ty paused on the first floor, but a weak cry from above them sent him racing up a second flight.
Ty charged through a doorway. Cassidy followed then jerked to a stop. Jack lay on his back by the far wall, shards of mirror surrounding his prone body, a pool of blood forming around his head. A six-inch jagged spear of glass protruded from his brow, barely missing his right eye.
“Oh, no.” Ty remained frozen to the spot, hands clenching against his sides.
“Help me.” Jack’s words slipped from between lips drained so white they looked almost lifeless.
“Yes.” But Ty’s eyes brimmed with fear as they locked on Cassidy’s, begging her to do something.
She slapped her phone into his palm before kneeling beside the injured boy.
“Call 911,” she ordered. When he didn’t obey, she snapped, “Now.”
While he pushed the buttons, she did a quick survey of Jack then tried to make him more comfortable. A mirror hanging from the wall must have come off and landed on Jack.
“Lie still,” she murmured. “You’ll be fine. The ambulance will be here soon. It’s going to be okay. Try not to move.”
She felt Ty brush her arm as he crouched down beside her.
“They’re coming. The glass—” he whispered. “Shouldn’t we—” He reached out.
Cassidy grabbed his hand, pulled it back and held it with both of her own.
“Don’t touch it!”
Jack’s eyes flared open. She could see panic growing in their depths.
“Uncle Ty? Am I going to die like Mom?”
So he’d lost his mother. For a fraction of a moment, Cassidy could see into his boyish heart, to the uncertainty that lurked there like a monster in the night.
In that moment, a bond formed between them. She knew exactly how Jack felt because once, a long time ago, she’d felt the same. Scared, lonely, afraid that no one would ever love her as her dead mother had.
She released Ty’s hand with a warning glance, then bent forward and placed her palms against Jack’s cheeks. She waited till he was wholly focused on her.
“You’re not going to die, Jack.” She smiled to soften the harshness of her words, made her voice steady, reassuring. “You’re going to lie very still until the paramedics come. They’ll take you to the hospital and the doctors will help you. Then all the pretty nurses are going to come and fawn over you and offer you ice cream and try to get your telephone number for their daughters. Okay?”
Jack started to nod his head, but Cassidy tightened her fingers and held him still.
“You must have missed the first part,” she teased. “Lie very still. Blink if you understand.”
He blinked a whole bunch of times. Cassidy smiled.
“Good. I saw that in the movies and always wanted to try it.” She grinned. “Guess it works, huh? Does your voice?”
“Yes.”
“Thought so. Hey, that sounds like the ambulance.” She turned to Ty. “Can you go and show them where to come?”
She knew from his expression that he did not want to leave. Yet something else told her that given the choice, Ty St. John would run as far and as fast from this situation as he could, which was exactly why she would not leave Jack. Ty was too upset to handle this.
When Ty opened his mouth to protest, Cassidy gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head and leaned so her lips were next to his ear.
“Go quickly.”
He rose to his feet like a man in a daze, offered his nephew a shaky smile.
“I thought I was in charge here, but she’s pretty bossy, don’t you think?”
A smile fluttered across Jack’s white lips. “Yeah.”
“I think you and I are going to have to watch it. You keep your eye on her while I go get the paramedics.” Tyson took one last look before hurrying out of the room.
Cassidy checked Jack’s vitals, noted the widening circle of blood. She picked up his hand and held it between her own.
“You are doing fine, Jack.”
“Can you pray for me?”
The words caught Cassidy off guard.
“When my mom was sick, she would ask me to pray for her. She always said it made her feel better. So can you pray for me?”
Years had passed since Cassidy had trusted anyone, let alone God. But Jack’s pleading face could not be denied. She squeezed his hand and bowed her head, searching for the right words.
“God, you know that Jack has been hurt. And you know that he’s afraid right now. Please help him.”
It was a pathetic prayer, but at least it came to a quick end, thanks to the paramedics bursting into the room. She glanced down at Jack, felt the squeeze of his fingers around hers. One of the medics hunkered beside her, tried to nudge her out of the way. But Jack wouldn’t let go of her hand.
“Thanks,” he whispered, brown eyes shining.
“You’re very welcome.” Cassidy swallowed around the lump in her throat.
“Step back, please. We need to move him.”
Jack squeezed her fingers once more, then let go. Cassidy stood by and watched them prepare him for the ride to the hospital.
Such gratefulness, and for what? A few paltry words? She had done nothing, and yet Jack seemed to relax, to gain confidence from her silly prayer. She watched as they loaded him onto a gurney, then followed as they carried him out of the building.
A child’s blind trust. She’d had that once.
“I’m going with him. Would you be able to drive my car to the hospital?” Clearly back in control, Ty fished a set of keys out of the coat he was carrying. “It’s parked behind the building. Ms. Preston?”
“Y-yes, of course.” Cassidy gulped and accepted the keys from him. “I’ll lock up and follow you. I want to see how he does, too.”
Jack was inside the ambulance now. The paramedics waited impatiently, but Ty paused a moment longer, his face solemn.
“Thank you. I froze back there. I couldn’t—” He shook his head as if to clear the image as he searched for words.
“Go.” Cassidy urged him forward. “Your nephew needs you now.”
He nodded, turned and strode toward the ambulance. Once he’d climbed inside, it took off. Shivering, she waited until the flashing lights disappeared from sight before turning back toward the building. Leaving Greece in January—was she crazy?
She retrieved her coat and purse, then stepped out the front door.
A grizzled old man, dressed in a shabby overcoat, stood on the bottom stoop.
“What happened?” He didn’t sound like a curious onlooker. He sounded concerned, worried.
She debated whether or not to tell him, then decided it could do no harm. But first she had some questions of her own.
“Who are you?”
“Mac. I’ve been coming here awhile, helping Ty get the place cleaned out.” The skin on his forehead drew into a crease. “The boy got hurt, didn’t he?”
“Yes, Jack broke a mirror and some of it cut him. He’s going to need some stitches. I’m going to the hospital as soon as I lock up.”
“Ty’ll blame himself.”
“It wasn’t his fault. It was an accident.”
“Ty doesn’t always see things that way.”
That sounded strange but Cassidy had no time to probe deeper. She stepped around him, pulled the door closed and used the keys Elizabeth had sent her to lock it.
“Things will probably be back to normal on Monday. Why don’t you come back then.”
He nodded, turned away. “Ty will have nightmares tonight.”
Cassidy frowned as she watched him leave. Ty? Nightmares? What an odd thing to say. Maybe he’d meant Jack.
As Cassidy drove to the hospital, her thoughts flew to the young boy who’d lost so much blood and to the man who’d seemed more traumatized than the child.
Not that it was any of her business.
But when she weighed her own electric connection with Tyson St. John with the unusual way his nephew had touched something she usually kept buried deep inside, Cassidy couldn’t help being intrigued by Ty and Jack’s relationship.
You’re here to do a job and not to get sidetracked by a good-looking man and his nephew.
Her brain issued the message, but it also conjured up an image of Ty leaning against the counter, winking at her. Her pulse fluttered in response.
Don’t even go there. Focus on your future.
And the dream.
Yeah, she’d concentrate on the dream.
Chapter Two
Cassidy Preston was late.
Ty tossed two more bags of garbage into a plastic bin, then glanced—for the tenth time—at the big metal clock on the kitchen wall.
“Seems like the cook must’ve slept in, Elizabeth,” he muttered as he swept up a pile of debris. “How is she going to handle breakfast at six if she can’t get to work on a Monday morning by eleven?”
“You might be surprised by what I can handle.”
Ty whirled around. Cassidy leaned against the door frame, wearing a short espresso-toned jacket shot with the same silver as her eyes. Her smug expression told him she hadn’t been sleeping in. He was stupidly pleased by the way her eyes lit up when she looked around.
“Very nice.” Her gaze rested for a moment on the saucepan he’d left on the counter—the sparkling clean saucepan. A smile eased the severity of her lips. “I hear Jack was released. Everything okay?”
“He’s doing very well. Thanks for asking. The doctors sent him home once they were sure he was okay and the stitches were holding. He’s supposed to be on bed rest till school starts, but I doubt anyone can hold him to that.” Ty grimaced. “Keeping him quiet while he heals is going to be the hard part.”
“Well, he is a boy. I don’t suppose it’s all that easy to lie around when all your friends are outside.”
Ty could’ve told her that Jack didn’t have many friends, that ever since his mother’s death he’d grown more introverted. He could’ve told her that he was concerned by the boy’s aimlessness, by his lack of interest in the swimming team on which he’d once excelled, or the Rollerblading that had worried his mother. He could’ve told her that, since Gail’s death, he’d tried a thousand things to draw the boy’s interest and that none of them had worked.
Thankfully, he didn’t get a chance to relate that sad history.
“You’ve made quite a difference in here. Did you work all weekend?”
“Nope. I started at the crack of dawn.” No way would he tell her why. “Someone tried to break in Friday night so I hired Mac to act as our night watchman. He was a cop once. He says you’ve met.”
She nodded.
“When I showed up here this morning it was pretty early. I think I scared the wits out of him.” The old man’s disgruntled complaints still rang in Ty’s ears.
“Well, whenever you started and however long it took, you’ve done a great job.”
“Thank you. Does that mean you’re cooking lunch?”
She tossed him a “when pigs fly” look.
“Regarding that.” Cassidy frowned. “I wonder if it would be possible to haul out those old refrigeration units while you’re in your cleaning mode. They smell.”
“Haul them away?” Did he look like an ox? “Sure—if I can scrounge up about another six men and some kind of pulley system.”
“I can help you.” She took another look, shaking her head. “You’re right. We’d need Hercules.”
Ty probed past the friendly smile, glimpsed something she wasn’t saying.
“These old things are all we have. If we throw them out—”
A satisfied smirk originated in Cassidy’s silver-gray eyes and swooped down to tip up the corners of her generous mouth. Funny he hadn’t noticed her great smile before, but then she hadn’t smiled all that much on Friday.
“They were all you had.” A spark of mischief played with her smile. “I found something better.”
“You bought new refrigeration?” he asked in disbelief, temper rising at her temerity. He tamped it down with difficulty. “Cassidy, there is no way we can lay out expenditures like that without sourcing all possible providers and getting quotes for the best price. I know you want to get started but you can’t rush ahead on your own.”
“If you’d only—”
“Wherever you got it from, it will have to go back. I’m sorry.” Ty pinned her with a glare, hoping she understood what he wasn’t saying—he was the boss. “You have to take it back.”
“Could you listen—”
“I don’t have to hear any more. It goes back.”
Ty was in charge so she’d better realize he would make the major decisions about where the money was spent. He could be more blunt if he had to, but confrontation wasn’t his usual style.
Apparently their new chef had no such problem.
“How dare you?”
Silver flashes from her eyes speared him. So she had a temper. Well, he wasn’t any pushover, either.
“There is no dare about it,” Ty informed her with a firmness that, thanks to Jack, he’d recently learned to apply. “Elizabeth Wisdom’s foundation donated money to turn Gail’s dream into reality. But I can’t authorize—”
“Stop!” She took one step toward him, anger shimmering around her like a field of overcharged electricity. Her voice had risen but her next words were modulated. “I realize you’re in charge here, Mr. St. John. I’m well aware that everything must be approved by you. You are the boss. Got that.”
“Then?” He would not back down.
“I have no intention of threatening your power. I was merely trying to help get this place off the ground. As quickly as possible.”
“But—”
Cassidy’s upheld palm stemmed his protest.
“That’s why I contacted a friend of mine—to get a lead on some equipment. Davis was willing to donate some very good units for which he has no further use.”
His anger shrank to the size of a shriveled pea. “Donate?”
“As in free. Gratis. No charge.” She glanced at her watch for the second time. “They’ll be delivered in about two hours. Also free. If we have everything ready, they might just agree to move the units into place.”
Ty had jumped to conclusions, neglecting to ask questions first. In short, he’d done exactly what he always counseled his patients not to do. Like some power-hungry freak that sensed his control was threatened, he’d waved his big stick of authority to prove to her that he knew what he was doing.
“I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t much of an apology, but at least it was sincere. Ty stared at his toes, waiting for her response. What happened now would signal how their relationship progressed. Yes, he’d messed up, but they still had to work together.
She could have called, he told himself, and alerted him to the possibility that she’d found some equipment. She could have mentioned she was going to ask some friends for help. She could have—
Ty didn’t have time to analyze his defensiveness.
“Clearly, I made a mistake. You don’t want them.” Cassidy shoved a length of hair behind one ear. “Fine. I’ll phone Davis, see if he will take it all back. I didn’t realize that you had something else already planned. I got so excited when this was available for free that I guess I thought—” She heaved a sigh, closed her eyes and shook her head. “Never mind. I’m sorry I interfered with your plans.”
Now he felt like a first-class jerk.
“I didn’t actually have any plans. Yet. I’m very happy you found this opportunity for us, Cassidy.” Ty caught himself waiting for the glow to return to her face.
“You’re sure?” Who could blame her for being confused?
“Positive.” He took a deep breath and said what he should have said in the first place. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a little awed by the responsibility of getting this place up and running. My sister, Gail—” he struggled to find the right words “—she had a very precise idea of what she wanted the Haven to be like. She spent a lot of time working in this community as an outreach worker. She chose this place because our brother died near here.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“You couldn’t have. As much as I can, I intend to make her dream come true, preferably without spending all the money Elizabeth provided us before we open the doors. Most of the time I’m in way over my head, just trying to stay afloat. And it scares me to death. I guess I took my fears out on you.” Forcing that admission cost Ty but he pressed on. “I sincerely apologize.”
Cassidy’s body language told Ty she wasn’t ready to accept his apology quite yet. He tried again.
“If it seems like I’m a little overprotective about the place, it’s probably because I am. Organizing a shelter—” He held out his hands, palms facing upward. “It’s not my area of expertise and I don’t want to make any mistakes. I’m feeling my way through.”
“What is your field?”
“Counseling. I’m a psychologist. I used to work in the military with the soldiers serving in Iraq.”
“You don’t now?” Curiosity lit up her expression. “Why is that?”
“I quit.” He struggled to find words that would make sense of a situation that even now confused him. “Shortly after I came back, Gail had a massive coronary.”
At first he’d considered coming here charity work, but the longer he concentrated on the Haven, the more Ty began to imagine Gail’s vision coming alive for the residents of this neighborhood—for people like Donnie, who had fallen through the cracks.
In running the Haven Ty saw himself finding his way back to counseling, to helping people improve their lives, work he’d loved.
At least that was his hope.
The truth was that he’d latched onto the Haven like a life preserver because he never again wanted to relive the gut-wrenching horrors he’d seen, terrors he still dreamed of every night.
And of course there was Jack. Ty hoped seeing his mother’s dream come true would help Jack get past the grief that still showed in his eyes, help the two of them bond.
But that wasn’t the entire truth.
In reality, Ty desperately needed the myriad details of this place to keep from panicking about raising a twelve-year-old boy alone.
“Losing your sister must have been devastating, both to you and to Jack,” Cassidy murmured. “Especially for you, having also lost your brother. I’m so sorry.”
That she could be so considerate, especially after his temper tantrum, touched Ty.
“Thank you. It was difficult. But knowing her vision for the Haven is going to become real—that helps a lot.”
“Would you mind telling me what that vision was? How it started?”
Ty closed his eyes, raked a hand through his hair as loss squeezed a grip around his heart.
“Gail and Elizabeth Wisdom were friends for years. They sat on lots of charity boards together.”
In fact, it was Gail who’d introduced Ty to Elizabeth. He recalled the Christmas benefit as if it were yesterday. He’d attended just before he’d been shipped out and found himself caught up in their projects, in the joy they took lending help where it was needed. Those had been happy days.
LaterTy had been glad of the connection when he’d contacted the Wisdom Foundation about making Gail’s dream come true.
“The two of them were like twin caped-crusaders, hunting for things that needed to be done to make the world a better place, and tackling them till they got the results they were after.” He shook his head ruefully. “The Haven grew from an idea Gail had at her last high school reunion. Our brother died of a drug overdose in his senior year. When Gail found out this school was going to be demolished, she decided to use it to make this neighborhood better for the people who live here.”
“She sounds very generous.”
Good thing Jack wasn’t here. Ty longed to talk about his sister, but since Jack hadn’t yet opened up about losing his mother, Ty wasn’t sure exactly how to broach the subject. So he kept silent, never speaking about the sister he’d loved, allowing Jack time to deal with his grief in his own way.
Someday he hoped to share all the funny stories from his childhood. Someday he’d pull out the old photos, talk to Jack about Donnie, how he’d gotten messed up because he made the wrong choices. Someday Ty and Jack would laugh, push past the strained relationship they now shared.
“I’m sorry if it’s painful—”
Ty shook his head.
“Gail had a very successful career in real estate. She left it to work in this community as an outreach worker because she felt that God had blessed her so much she had to share, to make a difference in the world. And for several years she did.”
“I see.”
Ty breathed deeply, forced his shoulders to relax and his fingers to unclench.
“The Haven was Gail’s last dream. I made myself a promise that I’d see my sister’s final project through to completion.”
Silence stretched between them for several moments. Ty felt Cassidy’s gray gaze studying him but he kept his head down, his focus on the floor, because he didn’t want her to see how much that promise was costing him.
Nobody knew of his long nights lying awake, trying to recall if he’d dotted all the i’s, crossed all the t’s, missed any detail that would jeopardize the project. That’s why he didn’t go to bed till long after midnight. That’s why he’d been up at four this morning.
Well, one reason why.
He spent precious hours deliberating over every decision, desperate to avoid the mistake that would spoil Gail’s dream. But even when he finally made a choice, Ty could never be sure it was the right one. That and the constant nightmares were just a small part of the legacy post-traumatic stress disorder had bequeathed him—chronic worry and uncertainty. PTSD was the primary reason he’d left the military, left counseling to someone else, someone who wasn’t dragging about his baggage.
Eventually he hoped to ease back into practice in his own way, on his own terms. Elizabeth had been great with her advice and support, her foundation equally generous, but even she didn’t know exactly how much he had at stake. Whether he could recover, whether he could listen and help someone else—what he discovered here would decide whether he ever practiced again.
For now Ty would see the Haven through to completion—errors and all.
What happened after that—Ty didn’t want to think about it right now.
“May I say something?”
He’d almost forgotten she was there. Cassidy waited until he lifted his head and looked at her.
“I am not trying to usurp your authority, Ty. I don’t want to get in your way, change your decisions or mess with your plans. That is not my intent.” She stood straight and tall, unflinching in her vivid sweater and frayed but fitted jeans. “I am here to help for six months. I owe that to Elizabeth because six years ago she gave me back my life. But at the end of my six months I’ll go my own way, get on with my own plans.”
“Okay.” Gave her back her life? There was more to that story, but Cassidy didn’t look inclined to explain at the moment.
Ty’s curiosity grew. That was the second time she had emphasized that she was here for six months. Had she repeated it for his benefit, or for her own?
“Until then, please know that I’ll do my very best to help you make the Haven succeed.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your commitment.”
“I am committed. From now on I promise not to spring any further surprises on you. I’m sure you’re juggling a thousand things already. You don’t need me adding to your stress.” She offered a tentative smile. “All right?”
Ty shook his head.
“Not all right at all. Please don’t apologize for helping. This whole misunderstanding was my fault. For now, let’s agree that we will cooperate to make things go smoothly. The Haven is our common goal. Okay?”
“Very okay.” She glanced around the room. Suddenly her eyes opened wide. She gasped. “Oh, how silly. I forgot.”
“Forgot who?”
“Not who, what.”
Ty followed her pointing finger and saw two brown paper cups sitting on the table by the door she’d entered. Next to them she’d left a white bag with his favorite bakery’s red logo printed across it.
“Those.” She handed him a cup. “I hope it’s not cold yet.”
“You’ve been back in Chicago what—five days? And you’ve already found Sugar’s?” Ty sniffed the aromatic wisps emanating from the tiny opening in the lid. “Costa Rican. Double dark, twice ground with real cream.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “I take it you’re familiar with that brew.”
“You could say that.” He closed his eyes, inhaled and sighed. “This is going to be a very good day.”
“I should have given you the coffee first.”
The way she said it made him study her. A tiny smile kicked up the corner of her pretty mouth; her eyes sparkled as if enjoying a private joke.
“Because?”
“We could have avoided a lot of misunderstanding if I’d known one cup would mellow you out for the whole day.”
“Okay, probably not the whole day,” Ty admitted. “But it’s a very good start. Thank you.” He sipped the drink and allowed himself a moment to savor it. A crackling bag drew him back to the reality of the Haven’s less than immaculate kitchen.
“I suppose you’re not into apple Danish?” She held out one of his favorite delicacies. When he didn’t immediately take it, she shrugged. “That’s okay. I’m starved. I bought four thinking I’d have one for breakfast, one for lunch and share the other two. Guess I’ll keep some for tomorrow.”
“I don’t see any need for you to suffer like that.” Ty plucked the golden pastry from her fingertips. “I’m happy to help out.” He bit into it quickly, so she couldn’t snatch it back, then faked wide-eyed innocence. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I eating yours?”
Ty’s mouth watered. He’d missed breakfast, and dinner the night before was a faint memory of peanut butter and dill pickles. Jack’s favorite. They made a decent sandwich if you were starving, but only just.
“You don’t look very sorry.”
“I truly am.” He held the uneaten portion toward her assuming his saddest look.
“Nice gesture.” She took a tiny bite, laughed at him. “You don’t do pathetic well, you do know that?”
Ty gave it a second effort but she merely shook her head.
“Forget it. I prefer apricots, anyway.”
“You have apricot Danish, too? That’s another favorite of mine.” He enjoyed watching laughter change her face. “Yours has more icing.”
“Tough.” She took another bite, displaying not the least hint of regret.
“As your boss, I feel compelled to say—”
“Thank you, Cassidy. You’ve saved my life. Again.” She tilted her head sideways in a sassy fashion. “That was what you were going to say, wasn’t it?”
“Sort of.”
“There’s a guy outside—hey, nobody said anything about food. I love Danish.” Mac glanced back and forth between the two of them like a puppy who doesn’t know which benefactor to attack first.
“That must be Davis.” Cassidy dabbed her lips with a napkin and held out the bag. “We meet again, Mac. Help yourself. There’s plenty.” She grabbed her coat.
“Maybe you should wait to sample the goodies till later, Mac.” Ty eyed the pastry bag, licked his lips. “At least until we see what Cassidy’s friends have brought us.”
“Until you get your gums around it, you mean. No way.” Mac chose his Danish and carried it with him as he followed them upstairs, smacking his lips to taunt Ty.
Ty pulled on his jacket thinking how Mac accepted everyone at face value. But Ty had a thousand questions about their chef.
Was she married? Why had she left Europe? Did she have any family?
“Tyson St. John, meet my friend Chef Davis Longfellow. Davis, Mac.”
This guy was a chef? He looked like a wrestler and it had nothing to do with the thick down coat he wore. Ty exchanged greetings before the gigantic stainless-steel units lying on the flatbed attached to a half-ton grabbed his attention. They looked like they’d require a crane to lift them off.
“Thank you so much for the donation, Davis,” he said, meaning it. “It’s very generous of you. The Haven will put them to good use.”
“Then that’s thanks enough.” Davis hopped on the back of the flatbed and began undoing the ropes that secured the units. “God sure moved in a timely fashion on this.”
“Why do you say that?” Ty applied himself to untying a second set of ropes at the back of the truck, jumped when Davis’s laugh burst out like a clap of thunder.
“‘Why?’ he asks. Let’s see, I’ve been waiting for my new refrigeration units for close to six months. Last week the vendor called to say they had been lost in shipping, that they couldn’t supply for another eight weeks at best.”
“Bad news.”
“It was, until last night. After the dinner rush, I got a call. The truck had mysteriously arrived in town. It was on a rush order, and if we couldn’t get my stuff unloaded right away I’d have to wait till they were able to come back around—some time next week, while I’m on vacation.” He tossed the rope free, gave Ty a questioning look.
“Okay,” Ty agreed. “That does sound like God put in some overtime.”
“It gets better. Two minutes after I got off the phone, Cassidy wandered in to say hello and mentioned she was looking for used equipment. If that isn’t God working, I don’t know what is.”
“Well, it’s certainly our good fortune.” Cassidy picked up the ropes and set them in a neat pile beside the walk.
“Oh, Cass, you doubter!” Davis shook his head in disgust and hopped down. “Good fortune, nothing. It’s perfect planning by the Father and you know it.”
“It’s chance.”
“Chance?” He hooted with derision, winked at Ty. “How’s this for chance? If that stuff had come while I was away I would’ve had to come back and my family would not have liked that. At all.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
Ty didn’t understand why she’d grown so annoyed.
“If it had come tomorrow morning, I would’ve missed the plane we are supposed to catch—the one with nonrefundable tickets to sun and surf. If I’d had to wait another eight weeks, the repairs they’re doing on the building would’ve had to be put off.” Davis waggled a finger at her. “As I said, God at work.”
“I think you’re right.” Ty smiled at him.
“You guys always stick together.” Belligerence colored Cassidy’s voice.
“I have some repairs planned for around here, too. Moving this stuff in after they’re completed wouldn’t have been easy,” Ty added. He wished Jack had shoveled off all the walks when he’d been asked. Now patches of ice had formed making the sidewalks treacherous.
“Your boss agrees with me, Cass. Divine Providence at work for both the giver and the receiver. How can you still doubt?”
Cassidy’s pretty face hardened into rigid lines. “Believe what you want,” she snapped, chin lifting.
Puzzled by her reaction, Ty walked around the flatbed, studying it from many different angles.
“How exactly do we get these beasts inside?” he finally asked.
“Many hands make light work.”
“Davis is big on these homilies.” Cassidy’s eyes danced with glee. “Actually, Davis is just plain big.”
“Ha. Cassidy is too funny today.” Her friend didn’t seem to take offense. “Move out of the way, you puny woman. We men have to work.” He flexed his bicep then leaned his head toward Ty. “See the way her eyebrow twitches. That means she’s steamed and she’s thinking up ways to pay us back.”
“Thanks for the warning.” Judging by the glares the two were exchanging, Ty guessed they’d known each other for quite a while. “Forewarned is forearmed.”
“Don’t you start.” Cassidy yanked hard on a bit of leftover rope. “I thought you said you’re getting ready for a vacation, Davis. It’s cold out here. Don’t you have something to do other than stand around and jabber?”
“Tsk tsk. I hoped Europe would have cured you of that crankiness.” Davis pulled out a cell phone and began dialing. “If I can just figure out where my ‘many hands’ are, I will prove how much truth there is in my little homily.”
He hadn’t completed punching in the last number before a big black truck pulled up to the curb and four muscled men jumped out.
“About time you got here.” Davis introduced them to Ty.
Once they’d greeted him, the men took turns wrapping Cassidy in a bear hug, swinging her around, then planting a loud kiss on her cheek. By the time they were finished her face glowed and she giggled like a young girl. Ty couldn’t stop staring at her.
“Good to see you again, Cass.”
“Good to see you, too, I think.” When they lunged toward her again, Cassidy stepped backward and pointed to the flatbed. “Could we get some work done here today? It’s supposed to snow again, you know.”
The four men glanced at Davis. “Hasn’t changed much, has she?”
“Nope. Just as bossy as she ever was.”
Cassidy snorted her disgust while the four pulled a cart from the truck’s bed and handed it up to Davis, who began fastening it to the first piece of machinery. Obviously they knew what they were doing, so Ty followed their directions and did exactly as he was told. A little better than half an hour later, both units were installed and running nicely. The old ones had been removed and were now tied onto the flatbed.
He overheard Cassidy promising to repay the five men with her specialty, which sounded chocolaty and very fattening.
“You going to provide shelter here, too, like with beds and everything?” Crank, the man with the biggest biceps, insisted Ty give them a tour of the old school building.
“That’s the idea. It’s a bit much for us to do all at once so I guess we’ll start with a soup kitchen and work up from there. Want to see more?”
“Yes.”
Ty led them through the building. Eventually they came to the gym. “This is the best part.”
“No kidding.” Hart, the tallest of the four men, grabbed a basketball from a box in the corner, raced across the floor and sank a hoop shot.
“You haven’t lost your touch.” Cassidy lounged in the doorway, watching them. “This old school has a big playground. Come spring, you guys could spend a day putting up a fort, some swings, maybe a few slides. Couldn’t you?”
“Could,” Hart agreed.
Ty couldn’t help staring. He hadn’t imagined Cassidy had given any thought to the Haven, let alone considered future possibilities.
Furtive whispers drew him back to awareness. Cassidy nodded at Crank, who seemed tongue-tied.
“He’s willing to donate some bedsprings from a motel he just bought.”
“Great.” Feeling as if he’d been grasped by one of those muscled arms and shaken, Ty gulped. But before he could accept, she continued.
“Hart’s brother’s a football pro. He could get some gym equipment for you.”
“Not fancy, but free,” Hart inserted.
“It’s really kind of you, all of you.”
Apparently his message about being in charge hadn’t sunk in at all. But Ty didn’t mind when Cassidy took over, coaxing Davis to approach his church for donations toward a day care, mocking his upturned nose.
“What’s the matter, Davis?” Cassidy teased. “Not into diapers?”
“Funny.” He ignored her to face Ty. “Her humor hasn’t changed since we were in high school together. It’s still nonexistent.”
“High school?” Ty recalled the way she’d interacted with the other men. “All of you?”
“Afraid so.” Davis laughed at Cassidy’s groan. He leaned toward Ty and spoke sotto voce. “Cassidy was number one on everybody’s dating list.”
“Liar. I never made it onto anyone’s dating list.” She thumped Davis on the shoulder. “You never even knew I was alive until you discovered I could cook.” She glanced at Ty. “They had some kind of contest to see who would persuade me to go out with them first.”
“I won.” Davis thrust out his massive chest.
“You won because you conned me.” Her scathing tones dared him to deny it. “Anyway, that wasn’t a date. You got me to cook a meal under the pretext of helping your poor sick mother.”
“He said you offered because you were infatuated with him.”
“You actually believed that?” Cassidy rolled her eyes.
Crank made a threatening gesture at Davis. “Your past is coming back to haunt you big-time now that Cass is back. You know what she’s like about lying.”
“Hates it. Yeah, I know that.” Davis sobered immediately. “I’m sorry, Cass.”
Ty found her reaction curious. His first impression of the chef had been of a strong, aggressive and capable woman. Somehow he never imagined her as an uncertain high school girl trying to figure out the intricacies of dating. Seeing her interaction with these men added a sense of vulnerability, made her more approachable.
“You’re going to be very sorry you lied about me, Davis.” Cassidy’s words held a thin edge of pain. A moment later her grin flashed. “I’m going to think up some really big payback.”
“Look, forget the past. I’m more interested in the present.”
“I’m sure you are.” Cassidy winked at Ty then turned to face her friend. “I could tell a lot of stories on you, Davis, and you know it. But because you came through today, I won’t.”
Relief washed over the big man’s face.
“And because you got me interested in cooking and pushed me to get my own place, I guess I owe you one, too.” He risked a look over one shoulder. Crank and his friends were huddled together, muttering about a football game on the weekend. Davis ignored them, turned to face Ty. “So it’s okay with you, if I suggest your place as a project for our church?”
“I’ll be very thankful for anything your church is willing to help us with.” Ty glanced at the others. “That goes for all of you. The Haven is only going to work if we get community support. Then people will see we are only trying to help. Hopefully that will allay any suspicions that are out there.”
“That sounds like you have problems.” Cassidy frowned at him.
“Some local kids have made a few threats. Nothing we can’t handle.” Ty hoped that was true.
“You’re welcome to join us at our church if you like, Ty. First Street Community Church isn’t big, but it’s all heart. We would welcome you anytime.”
Since Ty had been thinking about finding a permanent church home for himself and Jack since they’d moved, he listened to Davis’s directions.
“If I can persuade my nephew, you might just see us there on Sunday. And you must feel free to come here anytime—all of you. As soon as I get a coffeepot working there will be a cup for you whenever you like.”
“Thanks.”
Each man shook Ty’s hand, teased Cassidy, then clambered up the steps. Except for Davis. He lingered behind while the others called for Cassidy and Mac to come and see something on the big black truck they’d arrived in. She gave the two of them a speculative look before following the others outside.
Ty walked up the stairs beside Davis wondering what the other man was struggling to say.
“So you and Cassidy are both chefs,” he prodded. “That’s interesting.”
“Technically I’m a chef, but I’m not in Cassidy’s league.” The big man shrugged. “She’s won about every award they give, made her mark with the best in the business. She could work anywhere and they’d be more than happy to have her.”
“Yet she chose to come back to Chicago.” Ty wanted to hear more about Cassidy Preston. Particularly why she was so adamant about not overstaying her six-month term.
“She always had big plans for her future.”
Something in Davis’s voice made Ty pause just outside the door, while they were still out of earshot of the others.
“You don’t think her future is why she came back?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Ty met his look, smiled faintly. “You didn’t have to.”
“Psychologist, huh?” Davis shook his head. “I’ll have to watch it.”
“You going to hang around here all afternoon, Davis?” Hart bellowed. “Or do you want help unloading that stuff?”
“I want help, of course. Think the Haven might get a few bucks for the metal if we take it over to that friend of yours?”
“Why not?”
Moments later the men and the old equipment had disappeared down the snowy street.
“Not a bad morning’s work,” Cassidy said as she turned to go back inside.
Ty grasped her arm. “Wait a minute.”
She glanced at his hand, eyes steely as she waited for him to release her. Then she lifted her gaze to meet his. “Yes?”
“It’s past noon,” he said, checking his watch. “I’m hungry.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, have a nice lunch.”
Ty stepped in front of the door so she couldn’t go inside. She lifted her perfectly arched eyebrows to glare at him. “Excuse me?”
He laughed.
“I can see I’m going to have to practice my communication skills. That was supposed to have been an invitation for lunch. I’m buying. As a thank-you,” he explained. “Getting that equipment, bringing those men here, listening to their offers to help—if they pan out, the place will have taken a giant leap forward. Thanks to you.”
“You’re welcome.” It was a duty response carrying little emotion.
Ty tried again.
“So what do you say we take a break over lunch and you can tell me what other things you see happening at the Haven?”
For the first time since Ty had met her, Cassidy Preston was speechless.
He waited, shuffling from one foot to the other until, exasperated by her lack of response, he burst out, “I’d appreciate a decision soon. I do have some work to do this afternoon.”
Her laughter bounced off the building and down the street.
“I think, counselor, that you need a refresher in patience.”
“What I need is an answer. Lunch?”
She studied him for a few moments, her expression unreadable. He was about to give up when she nodded, once.
“I guess we could take a break. For an hour or so.”
Within ten minutes she was seated in the front seat of his car and Ty was trying to figure out how Cassidy Preston could be so animated when some old high school buddies showed up, yet turn into a marble statue when they were alone.
As he pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant, Ty saw her check her watch for the third time.
Apparently he had about as long as it took to order and eat lunch to find the answer to his questions.
Chapter Three
“Would it help if I apologized again?”
Cassidy winced as her fork clattered against the plate. She left it there, hid her hands in her lap and tried to figure out what Tyson St. John had been talking about.
“I mean, I could if it would help.” He’d finished his meal already. “I know I jumped on you about the refrigeration and I truly am sorry, but—”
“Please, it’s fine. I understand that you’ve been under some stress. Really, there’s no problem.” She let their server take away her spinach salad even though she’d only tasted about three bites. “I’m just glad we have what we need and that we can move on.”
“Davis mentioned something about you living in Europe. Were you there long?”
She knew where the questions were leading. Not that there was anything wrong with them. Ty was only interested. But that didn’t make opening up any easier.
She didn’t know where to start.
Ty folded his napkin, laid it to one side.
“Forget I asked. I can take you back now, if you want.” His voice had lost the soft lilt she had admired earlier. Now it was flat, emotionless.
Cassidy swallowed. They had to work together for the next six months. No matter how raw coming back made her feel, remaining silent was a lousy way to start off a working relationship.
“Actually I was away for six years. Elizabeth Wisdom’s foundation gave me a scholarship to start my training in Paris. After that I worked with some of the best chefs in the world. I guess I’ve moved around quite a bit compared to some people. But I’ve enjoyed it.”
“So coming back here wasn’t exactly what you wanted?” He insisted she choose dessert and asked for coffee. “Chicago doesn’t feel like home anymore?”
Cassidy tasted a tiny morsel of her cheesecake before setting down her fork.
“It isn’t that. I grew up in Chicago. I have a lot of fond memories of this place.”
“And some not-so-fond ones, judging by your expression just now.” His intent scrutiny pushed past her barriers. “Do you want to talk about them? I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”
Talk about them? Cassidy never wanted to even think about the past again. So she did what she always did, drew the focus away from herself.
“I have two sisters. One lives in the city and one lives about forty miles away. It’s nice to be close to them again.” She sipped her water, licked her lips and stalled for time.
“I’m sure it is. No parents?”
“No.”
Silence yawned. It was obvious Ty was not going to press for more information, which Cassidy found reassuring.
“What about you?” she challenged. “You gave up your career and now you’re building your sister’s dream. What does your family think of that?”
Ty shook his head, a rueful smile touching the corners of his mouth.
“Since I don’t have one, I don’t have to worry.”
“Except for Jack, of course.”
An odd look washed across his face before he mumbled, “Yes, Jack.”
He didn’t want to discuss his life any more than she did, so Cassidy filled in the rest of the time with small talk and amusing stories about some of her cooking trials. By the time she’d coaxed him into eating most of her cheesecake, she felt more relaxed. By the look on the Ty’s face, he did, too.
On the way back to the car Cassidy got down to business.
“Can you give me some idea of when you expect me to start producing meals?”
“I can’t really. I’m not sure exactly what else I need to get in place before we open our doors. Unofficially, of course.”
“Oh.” Meaning he was going to keep assessing?
“I’m hoping we can have most of our programs running before we hold our grand opening.” He laughed as he pulled open her door. “But that’s a long way into the future.”
“Not that long, I hope.” She sank into the car seat wondering if it was only uncertainty that made him take so long to get things done. Or did something else underlie his hesitation?
“Let’s give ourselves a few days to assess.” There was a tone of finality in the words.
When they arrived at the Haven, Elizabeth Wisdom was deep in conversation with Mac, who seemed quite at home with the elegant heiress from Texas.
“Hello, Cassidy,” Elizabeth greeted, hugging her. “You look very well. And Ty. I’m so sorry about Jack. He’s recovering?” She linked her arms in theirs and walked between them into the building.
“Jack will be fine. I’m very glad Cassidy was there.” His voice altered. “The sight of all that blood got to me and I froze.”
Elizabeth’s gentle smile sympathized.
“Poor Ty. How did you manage in the army hospital?”
Cassidy had wondered the same thing.
“I’m a psychologist. I didn’t have anything to do with the medical side. Never even had to use my first-aid knowledge.”
“Well, that will probably change as renovations begin, so you’d better toughen up.” Elizabeth patted his shoulder in a motherly way, then turned to Cassidy. “And you, my dear. I hear you’ve been busy replacing kitchen equipment since your plane landed last Thursday. Bravo. Is your accommodation suitable?”
“The house is lovely, Elizabeth, thank you.”
“I know it’s tiny—”
“It’s perfect for one person,” Cassidy assured her, secretly delighted to have a house all to herself. “The big south windows are perfect to grow my herbs. I don’t need anything more. After all, it’s only for six months.”
“Yes.” Elizabeth’s smooth alabaster forehead pleated for a moment then smoothed. “We must make hay while the sun shines. That’s what my father used to say, though he never made any hay. He far preferred oil.” She stopped, surveyed the interior hall and frowned. “This is too grim.”
Cassidy remained silent, watching as Ty shot down every one of Elizabeth’s suggestions for renovation. He claimed he wanted the Haven to be a great success, a tribute to his sister, and yet, as they moved through the building, Ty stalled and stumbled when called upon to clarify his ideas. By the time they reached the kitchen, he seemed relieved that the focus was off him and on her.
“My dear, you did very well to find these,” Elizabeth congratulated. “What else have you planned?”
Cassidy set out her ideas clearly and concisely but even here Ty didn’t seem able to concentrate. He got stuck on details, rattled on about how the Haven’s outreach shouldn’t begin until they were sure of their focus and their target group. Cassidy grew so frustrated she got up and left, just to get a breather. She returned with a teakettle, some cookies and a box of teabags.
Ty didn’t appear to notice she’d been absent until she set the teapot before Elizabeth. Then he simply looked puzzled; he left his sentence hanging unfinished.
Something was clearly wrong, but what? He’d said he was nervous about making a mistake. Maybe that explained all the barricades he was erecting.
“I thought we could all use a break,” Cassidy said.
“What a lovely idea.” Elizabeth poured the thick amber liquid into the three mugs Cassidy had scrubbed spotless.
“I didn’t know we had a kettle here.” Ty added sugar to his tea, frowned then shook his head. “You bought one?”
Cassidy shrugged. “My gift to the kitchen.”
Ty opened his mouth as if to protest, but obviously had second thoughts. He shrugged and smiled, lifted his cup.
“To the Haven.”
They clinked mugs together. Elizabeth glanced around the messy room, her face expressing her distaste, though she didn’t give it voice.
“Next steps for you, Cassidy?” Elizabeth pulled out a small notebook.
“Arrange suppliers, find some helpers and generally plan how this will work. I’ll do two test runs. One on Thursday at noon to feed whoever is working here.” She looked at Ty. “If you can let me know approximately how many workers will be here, it will help me prepare.”
“Sure.”
She read his expression clearly.
Exactly how am I supposed to know that?
“Maybe you could count heads around nine. Or I could.” Cassidy struggled for a less bossy tone but it wasn’t easy. She’d been the one in charge for so long, and he seemed disinclined to action. Well, she had to do something.
“Yes, that might be better. You go ahead.” He looked relieved.
“I’d like to serve a second meal on Saturday evening.”
“Why?”
At this rate she’d be here a year and still accomplish nothing. Cassidy bristled.
“Is there something wrong with Saturday?”
“I’m not sure it’s the best day.”
Was he going to argue about every decision she made? Ty’s face closed up. His voice dropped.
“It’s just that I received a phone call from Davis. His contractor had a client drop out and so he could start on the entrance immediately.”
“Uh-huh.” She still didn’t understand his problem.
Ty dragged a hand through his hair as if searching for patience.
“People have to come down here to eat and the only way is through the main entrance. I don’t want anyone hurt.”
Even Elizabeth looked frustrated.
“Surely by Friday the worst of it will be over?”
“Maybe. If it isn’t, she’ll have to reschedule the lunch,” Ty warned.
Cassidy quashed a surge of frustration.
“I want to hold a dinner, not a lunch, and I want to get the word out beforehand,” Cassidy muttered. “And once we’ve started serving meals, I don’t think we can just stop.”
“We might have to if it puts someone in danger.” Ty’s piercing scrutiny sliced all the way to her toes.
Cassidy knew that he would suggest she wait. He seemed to prefer a snail’s pace for most things. But she couldn’t just sit around doing nothing. Even if it took him a month to get everything else operational, she could still serve meals.
Elizabeth glanced from Ty to her. “We’re going to have to be flexible.”
Which meant get along.
The onus was on her. Cassidy faced Ty and chose her words with care.
“It’ll take me a couple of days to get the kitchen going.”
“Fine.”
“Then what am I to do? I can’t just sit here and wait until everything else in the Haven is operational. It would be a waste of my time, and why would you want that when we can begin reaching people right away?”
Ty’s eyes blazed. The tic in his cheek gave away his irritation.
“I can’t have people tracking through a construction site.”
There was more to his objection and she knew it.
“We need to get people used to coming here.”
“Is that what we want?” Ty tipped so his chair rested on the back two legs, crossed his arms over his chest and donned a meditative look that gave little away. A psychologist would have learned about that on day one.
Cassidy wished Elizabeth had sent her somewhere else, someplace where the director was not so afraid someone might actually accomplish something. But she also sensed there was an undercurrent to his obfuscation, so she exhaled her frustration and tried diplomacy.
“I have to think in terms of what I can accomplish in the six months I’m here.” She listed some of her ideas. “Any objections?”
“I’m sure those are all fine.” Elizabeth looked relieved.
Ty didn’t like her taking charge. She knew that because his chair plunked down on all fours.
“But?” She longed to shake him out of his stupor. Just say it!
“I’m trying to visualize how it would work.”
“I cook, they eat. You said there’d been negative reaction from a gang. Maybe if they saw what this place is about, it would encourage the community.”
“Exactly!” Elizabeth beamed. “I knew that’s why God led you here, Cassidy.”
God? Cassidy wanted to laugh. As if He cared what happened to her now. She showed Elizabeth her list of to-dos.
“A meal is fine.” Ty’s disinterested tone evaporated. Suddenly he was all business. “Just so long as you don’t expect me to get involved down here.” He glanced at Elizabeth, saw her frown and rushed to rephrase. “I mean certainly, if you need help or want some direction, I’m available.”
“Right.” That would be the day that Cassidy would need his direction in a kitchen.
“The majority of my time must be focused on getting the Haven ready to go.”
“Of course.” Let him assess. As long as he didn’t do it down here. “Once I see how Thursday goes, I’ll be better prepared for Saturday night. I want posters up immediately so the word gets out.”
Ty could dawdle till spring but Cassidy intended to give the Haven her best shot as a repayment to Elizabeth. Then she’d move on to her dream.
“Cassidy, I knew you’d take this challenge and make it your own.” Elizabeth’s smile sent a dart of pleasure to her heart. “Now, let’s talk about your budget.”
Ty didn’t even glance her way. They tossed figures around for an hour before allocating a sum specifically for groceries. Cassidy knew she’d have to be very creative to feed the number she was counting on with such a small budget. But to give Ty his due, it was hard to know how the Haven would be accepted. A little shoe leather would help her find those answers.
“I want to thank you both for what you’ve accomplished here today. Whatever we do is for the Lord and I know He will be pleased.” Elizabeth rose, hugged Cassidy. “We’re going to let you get on with your work, dear. Ty and I need to talk about some other matters. You will let me know if you need anything, won’t you?”
“Thank you, Elizabeth. I hope things will work out here as you want.”
“Of course they will, child. God doesn’t give us dreams to crush them. You know that better than most.” Elizabeth’s face glowed. “I’m so fortunate I can be a part of this. I think Gail will be very proud.”
Ty’s handsome face wore a scowl, but only for a moment.
“I have some figures in my office.” He nodded at Cassidy. “We’ll see you later.”
Which was supposed to put her in her place, no doubt. He guided their benefactor from the room. Cassidy waited until he reached the door.
“Ty?”
He turned, lifted one eyebrow. “Yes?”
“I’m going to need at least one helper. Should I ask around, or do you have someone in mind?”
“As soon as I’m finished with Elizabeth I’ll make some calls. Okay?”
Cassidy pressed her lips together, nodded and Ty left.
Still playing the part of the boss. That was fine, for now. But if he didn’t come up with someone quickly, she’d do it on her own.
Because nothing was going to stop Cassidy from doing her duty the very best she could. Then she’d walk out of here and prove to her father and anyone else who cared to watch that she was worth loving.
Ty clapped his hands over his ears, struggling to ignore the pounding as he spoke on the phone. The answer he received was not conducive to soothing the headache that throbbed behind his eyes.
For a moment he wondered how much louder it could get, then realized that the pounding came from his office door.
“Come in,” he called, praying nobody would ask him to make a decision. Friday afternoon at four wasn’t his peak performance time. “Hey, Mac. How are—What’s wrong?”
“It’s Cassidy.” Mac stood in the doorway, his face beet red as he gasped for breath, shifting impatiently from one foot to the other.
“Is the kitchen on fire? What’s wrong?” Ty strode toward the door, ready to investigate.
“Not the kitchen. Bring your car keys and your coat. You’re going to need them.” Mac was thumping down the steps before Ty could ask any more questions.
“Car keys.” He shuffled through the papers littering his desk, found them, grabbed his coat, locked his office door and followed. By the time he’d closed the front door Mac was already moving around the corner of the building.
Ty jogged down the stairs and to his parking spot where the older man clung to the car door, half bent over as he puffed for air.
“What is going on?’
“Get in. I’ll explain on the way,” Mac ordered.
Ty steered down the snowy street, twisting and turning through a labyrinth of streets, following Mac’s directions. On his own, he knew he’d never remember how to get back.
“What are we doing here? What’s going on?”
“Cassidy’s recruiting,” Mac told him, scanning the rundown housing and less-than-well-groomed streets.
“She’s what?”
“Recruiting. Inviting people to dinner tomorrow night.”
“Cassidy’s out here by herself?” Ty gulped, whispered a prayer for help.
“She grew up around here, thinks she knows the place well enough to handle herself.” Mac glanced at him sideways. “I don’t think she’s aware of how tough it’s become.”
“Cassidy grew up around here?” Ty blinked, shocked by the knowledge. “I didn’t know that.”
He hadn’t wanted to know anything about Elizabeth’s protégée, if the truth were told. He’d heard more than enough from Elizabeth, who couldn’t stop bragging about how lucky they were to get the great Cassidy Preston at the Haven. Even Jack constantly sang her praises.
“Some of Jack’s new friends told him what she was doing. He told me to bring you, just in case. Then he followed her. That’s the street. Go right.”
Furious that she’d dragged his nephew into this, Ty cranked hard on the wheel and followed Mac’s directions.
“Where?” He slowed down, took a second glance into garbage-strewn alleys and dilapidated tenement buildings. Cassidy was nowhere to be seen.
“It didn’t take me that long to get you. She’s got to be around somewhere.” Mac’s face turned a sickly gray-white. “That gang—Do you think—I mean, you hear such awful stuff—”
Ty didn’t know what to think. Nothing had prepared him for this.
“They’re just kids—punks with big mouths.” He hoped. “Should I stop here?”
“Not yet. Keep driving. Slowly.”
“Why would she do this? I told her I’d get someone to put up posters.”
Three days ago he’d told her that. Today was Friday. And he still hadn’t done it. She was probably fed up with his promises.
Ty gulped.
If anything happened—
“Stop!”
Ty jammed on the brakes. Mac was out of the door and down the narrow alley a second later, motioning for Ty to follow.
“Why couldn’t she just cook?”
That wasn’t fair and he knew it. Ty eased into a parking spot, shut off the motor and got out. He locked the doors, then wondered if it would do any good.
Realizing Mac had disappeared, Ty hurried after him. Just his luck the old guy would get bumped on the head and he’d have two of them to care for. Approaching the corner, he heard voices—loud, angry.
Ty stepped up his pace and ran smack into Mac’s solid back. He shifted to move around him, but the old man clamped iron fingers on his shoulder.
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