Her Unexpected Family
Ruth Logan Herne
A Family to LoveEmily Gallagher and Grant McCarthy are planning a wedding together—just not their own. Emily’s well-structured life is turned upside-down when her company is hired to help Grant put together his deployed sister’s nuptials. Because as Emily spends more time with Grant and his adorable twins, she can't help but daydream about being at the altar herself. But Emily's ex-beauty queen status brings Grant memories of his children's appearance-obsessed mother—a woman who walked out on their family. For a future with Emily, can Grant escape the confines of his painful past? If he can, the next wedding they plan could be their own…Grace Haven: A town full of heart, happiness and home.
A Family to Love
Emily Gallagher and Grant McCarthy are planning a wedding together—just not their own. Emily’s well-structured life is turned upside-down when her company is hired to help Grant put together his deployed sister’s nuptials. Because as Emily spends more time with Grant and his adorable twins, she can’t help but daydream about being at the altar herself. But Emily’s ex-beauty-queen status brings Grant memories of his children’s appearance-obsessed mother—a woman who walked out on their family. For a future with Emily, can Grant escape the confines of his painful past? If he can, the next wedding they plan could be their own…
Her heart sped up.
She ordered it to stop that nonsense, right now.
Her heart had other ideas. When Grant climbed out of the car and crossed the drive, the sight of him, rugged and strong, dressed in working man’s clothes, tugged at her.
“You’re shoveling?”
“Just finished.”
“I’d have done this for you.” He reached out and tucked her hair back behind her ear, then indicated the walks with his gaze, but didn’t move his hand. “It would be my pleasure, Em.”
The strength of his callused hand against her cheek, against her ear, sent warmth through her. “Grant, I—”
“You’re beautiful with snowflakes in your hair.” He spoke softly, tenderly. “But you’re beautiful without the snowflakes, too.”
“Grant…”
“Em.” He whispered her name then gathered her into a long, warm embrace, the kind of hug a woman would cherish for all her days.
“I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” She stepped back, because if she didn’t, she might linger in the yard forever, lost in the moment.
Multipublished, bestselling author RUTH LOGAN HERNE loves God, her country, her family, dogs, chocolate and coffee! Married to a very patient man, she lives in an old farmhouse in upstate New York and thinks possums should leave the cat food alone and snakes should always live outside. There are no exceptions to either rule! Visit Ruthy at ruthloganherne.com (http://ruthloganherne.com).
Her Unexpected
Family
Ruth Logan Herne
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.
—Ephesians 4:31–32
To my beautiful daughter Beth:
You are a blessing and a delight to us.
Thank you for being a constant source of
love, light and encouragement.
And the four grandkids are a total bonus!
Acknowledgments (#ulink_b83cf18f-f645-51bc-b9a8-b1d620629f40)
A special thanks to Jean Cosgriff, Ed Hall,
Donna Kocienski and Kathy Pittaway for their
love and help during my years at Bridal Hall.
Your warmth and humor made it an
absolute pleasure to work there!
And to the constant efforts of the Town of Parma
Highway Department, always working to keep
roads safe and clear. Your example helped me
shape this delightful story. Every time you get
behind the wheel of one of those big plows or
machines, you’re a hero to so many of us.
Thank you!
Contents
Cover (#u64b67fd9-0859-5cc4-989d-13350e78aa00)
Back Cover Text (#uf9d420f2-501f-5d91-bef8-729295dec74c)
Introduction (#u07530509-65b2-5781-b739-1974a8b81b69)
About the Author (#u8480aa66-dc83-5141-9698-6ac67dfedd12)
Title Page (#u6a51f885-0de3-5313-945d-01726423dd3f)
Bible Verse (#u21e9c51d-9d1f-5203-b990-c5dbceb09486)
Dedication (#u20f022d3-92ed-57cd-8170-dfbd262e1f51)
Acknowledgments (#ucc8fe442-9ae7-5c5a-b9b2-d31fd658c3a0)
Chapter One (#u8b99638d-a734-514e-8548-6188e78aece5)
Chapter Two (#u70939ae4-8ccc-595e-94d0-468b0d9bcfae)
Chapter Three (#u013f712c-58cf-54e2-968a-e4509e0798df)
Chapter Four (#ud638f5c8-df79-5b9a-9cce-af4d39579375)
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)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_2e58ad65-0f18-5853-8d47-b72779070dea)
I can’t break this appointment again, Grant McCarthy thought as he bundled the twins into their car seats. He’d already put the wedding planner off twice.
Timmy gazed up at him, round-eyed, then smacked him upside the head with a plastic truck. For a little guy, the two-year-old packed a mean punch.
Dolly squalled from the moment he started carrying her toward the car, as if being strapped in made her want to lash out irrationally. Being two and developmentally delayed, instant meltdowns had become a chronic reaction. While Tim looked on, Dolly blubbered nonstop, and pools of water seemed to come from everywhere.
“Dowwy’s sad.” Timmy gazed across the backseat of the minivan. His lower lip quivered in sympathy. His eyes started to fill, and Grant knew he had to act fast.
“She’s fine, Timmers, I promise,” Grant reassured his little son. He trotted around the front of the car, climbed in and started the engine. “She hates being tied down, that’s all.”
He smiled at Tim through the rearview mirror, but didn’t dare glance Dolly’s way. She’d stopped crying for the moment, but if he made eye contact, she’d start all over again. It was bad enough that his aunt came down with the same virus the twins had shared a few weeks ago, but to get it today, when he was supposed to meet with the wedding planner for his sister Christa’s wedding, spelled disaster. On top of that, Aunt Tillie had chewed him out for attempting to plan the wedding, take care of two babies and a house while running the town highway department. She told him he was downright foolish to even try.
At the moment, he was inclined to agree.
He drove into the shopping district of Grace Haven, New York, a quaint town tucked in the picturesque Finger Lakes region. He made a right turn into The Square. Originally a small-town hub surrounding a cozy central park, The Square was now a shopping destination beloved by tourists and locals. The predicted rain hadn’t hit yet, and he hoped for a roadside parking space along the popular series of shops.
Unfortunately, not a single spot was free, and that meant he’d have to maneuver both kids through the back parking lot once he got them unlatched and he was already ten minutes late.
He hated when people held him up on his job. Time was money and expectations in local government were high, just as they should be. But here he was, doing the exact same thing to whatever Gallagher sister they assigned him. As he hopped out of the SUV, he hoped it wouldn’t be the beauty queen. After his upscale wife had left him and two babies high and dry, he’d had enough of appearance-loving women to last a lifetime.
He snugged Dolly into his shoulder and ushered Timmy through the lot as fast as stubby toddler legs would go. The west wind bit sharp, a sure sign of the coming winter. Once wind and cold and snow hit full force, his road crews would work nonstop to keep the valley and upland roads safe for travel, a busy and sometimes frantic season for northern highway departments. And a wedding, on top of it—
But he was honored to help his sister. He loved her courage and tenacity. He loved her.
Timmy caught his foot on the edge of an all-weather mat as they stepped through the door. He sprawled onto the floor and burst into tears partially because he was brush burned, but mostly because it was nap time. The timing had seemed ideal when Kate & Company had suggested a weekend meeting. A Saturday afternoon, two kids napping, his aunt to babysit them and he’d take care of getting things going for his sister’s special day.
Wanna hear God laugh? Tell Him your plans. His mother’s old adage hung true, especially today.
He bent low. Allison Kellor noticed him from the gracious, formal entry facing the street. She offered a sympathetic wince as he stood, gathering Timmy into his free arm. He strode forward, carrying both toddlers, and crossed the elegant entry as if he belonged there.
“Grant McCarthy?”
He turned toward the voice and took a deep breath. The beauty queen, of course, looking absolutely, perfectly put together from the thick auburn waves of hair to the designer outfit and red high heels.
Doomed.
He didn’t belong there. She did. And maybe Aunt Tillie was right—maybe he was stupid to think he could handle spinning multiple plates in the air. A wave of negativity rose inside him.
He forced it down and faced the beautiful woman descending the curved, open stairway and said, “We made it.”
“So I see.”
For a split second he was tempted to make a run for it. But then the redhead came closer. She held out her arms. Normally effusive Timmy ducked his head, probably struck dumb by her beauty.
Her good looks weren’t lost on Grant. This woman was downright appealing and absolutely lovely. That gave him reason enough to maintain his distance. He’d spent years thinking appearances mattered, then one broken heart later, he learned they shouldn’t really matter at all.
“Ba.” Dolly peeked up at the woman and did something she hadn’t done in a long time. She opened her arms to someone other than him, Aunt Tillie and the occupational therapist that stopped by the day care facility twice a week. “Oh, ba.”
“Come here, precious.” The redhead didn’t seem to care that Dolly’s face was blotched from anger, tears and ghastly unmentionable things she’d smeared on Grant’s coat. Her little jacket was dotted with something unidentifiable and had remnants of vanilla wafer crushed into the zipper, but when the former beauty queen took her, Dolly wove two tiny hands into the prettiest red hair he’d ever seen and chortled. “Ba! Ba!”
“Red.” The woman ducked her head while Dolly explored her hair, then peeked up at the girl and pulled a strand of that long, gorgeous hair sideways for the little one to see. “Red hair.”
“Wad!” Dolly laughed, amused, as if the wedding planner got her joke.
“Miss Gallagher, I’m sorry we’re late.” He made a face of regret and nodded toward the clock. “We missed the first appointment because Dolly had that nasty upper respiratory virus that’s been going around. Then Timmy got it. And now, my Aunt Tillie—”
“Tillie Gibson, right?” she asked, and nodded toward Allison. “My mom and Allison handled her daughter’s wedding last spring. I heard it was wonderful.”
“They were thrilled with how it all came out,” he admitted. “And that’s what made me think of Kate & Company for my sister Christa’s wedding. She and her fiancé, Spencer, are both deployed, they’re pursuing air force careers, and I wanted to make this wedding nice for her. I know these aren’t exactly ideal conditions.”
The redhead frowned. “Not ideal conditions? Why?”
She acted as if she really didn’t have a clue and that made Grant drag a hand through his hair. It seemed thinner on top right now, and why would he notice that at this moment? Was it because of the drop-dead beauty standing there, holding his precious child and looking up at him with the most amazing bright brown eyes he’d ever seen?
Yes, which was ridiculous because he’d been out of the dating game for years and it wasn’t a game he ever intended to play again. “Well, the kids. With Tillie sick...”
“We’ll talk around them.”
She had to be kidding. He looked beyond her to the classy office that smacked of good taste, not sticky fingers. “Do you—”
“I’m Emily.” She kept Dolly snugged in her arm, looking quite comfortable with the child as she extended her right hand. “The middle one.”
Oh, he knew who she was all right. He might be ten years older than she was, but the whole town had watched and cheered as Emily Gallagher brought home first prize in pageant after pageant as a teen, then as a woman.
He glanced around, doubtful. “You really think this will be okay?”
“Pull up a spot on the carpet.” He wasn’t sure how someone could manage to sink to the floor gracefully while holding a messy toddler, but Emily Gallagher did it with finesse. Once down, she set Dolly on her bottom, then worked the cookie-crusted zipper from the jacket with nimble fingers. “Allison, can you do a quick sweep for anything reachable and breakable?”
“I’m on it. And here’s a pen so you can do hard-copy notes. We’ll transfer them later.”
“Post-babies!” She laughed, and when she did, Grant’s blood pressure dropped to a more normal level even though his heart sped up.
She wasn’t patronizing him. She wasn’t treating Dolly different from Tim, and for reasons he’d never be able to explain, Dolly had fallen in love with Emily at first sight, and Dolly didn’t like too many people.
“So.” She picked up the pen, flipped open the notebook and faced him as he and Timmy settled onto the floor nearby. “We talked about a February wedding on the phone. Is that still the plan?”
“January, now,” he told her as he worked Timmy’s jacket off. “The second Saturday.” The minute he was free of his father’s help, the little boy got up and raced around the spacious room.
“I’ll keep an eye out from here,” Allison promised from her area. “You guys see what you can accomplish.”
“You told me on the phone that Christa and Spencer are regular, straightforward people. Neither one likes too much glitz and glamour.”
“No, ma’am. They’re simple, hardworking types. Most of my family’s the same way.”
He must have sounded brusque, because her left brow rose fractionally, but her voice stayed matter-of-fact. “While several of the local venues close for the winter, most stay open as needed, making a January venue fairly easy to secure.”
“Of course the problem is, we run into storms, then.” He frowned, because in his line of work, weather always took primary consideration. “There’s no way around it, though. That’s the only time they can arrange leave together.”
“Have generators waiting...” she murmured as she made a note on the pad.
He stared at her. “You’re serious?”
“Of course. It’s sensible, right?”
“Yes, but—” He looked around the beautiful trappings of her mother’s business and shrugged. “You surprised me, that’s all.”
She paused her pen, looked him in the eye and held his gaze. “Pretty doesn’t mean nonfunctional.”
Ouch.
She’d nailed his opinion in one quick lesson, and while he was sure she meant well, he’d run the gamut with his wife of nearly nine years. Serenity had lived for appearances. Not so much at first. She’d been a local news anchor for the Rochester area and had been crazy popular. He’d thought she was happy.
She wasn’t.
As their economic status rose, so did her penchant for success.
They’d put off having children because the timing had never been quite right. Her job, his job, education, job security... And then suddenly they were pregnant with twins.
Grant had been ecstatic.
Serenity had looked trapped from the moment the stick changed color until the day she piled her suitcases and a picture of Timmy into her car and drove to a new job in Baltimore. He pushed the image aside.
“Backup generators would be great.”
“Do we want a church for the ceremony?”
“Christa has always loved the abbey your uncle runs. I ran the new date by him and he said it was clear, so I was thinking a two o’clock wedding. Is that a good time?”
“Perfect, especially with the decreased daylight in winter.” She made a quick note as Dolly tried to grab her pen. “Hey, you.” She laughed into Dolly’s sweet, round face and then up at him. “So that’s Tim.” She pointed to the little boy. “And this is?”
“Dolly.”
“Perfect!” She laughed and made wide eyes at Dolly. Dolly shrieked in delight, clapped her hands together and giggled out loud. “She’s like a little doll. Great name.”
“It’s really Dolores Marie for my mother,” he said. “I thought Dolly would be a cute nickname for her. My mother died before she was born, so it’s a nice way to carry on the family names.”
“It’s marvelous.” Dolly stood up, looking steady, but when she went to chase after her brother, she stopped and went from happy-go-lucky toddler to instant anger. She stuck out her lower lip, stomped her foot twice and glared across the room at her twin. When Timmy ignored her, she stomped again, scowled at her father and burst into tears.
Grant stood and carried her across the room, then set her down next to Timmy. He came back, sat down and waited for Emily to proceed.
“What’s she going to do when he moves?” Emily asked, and something in her voice tweaked Grant’s protective juices.
“Crawl after him. Or get mad.”
“Oh.”
One word. One tiny, two-letter word, but it was like he’d just been tried and convicted in the court of Gallagher. “You have a better way?”
She looked from Dolly to him, then said, “Walking’s always good.”
“She can’t,” he explained and thought he’d gain sympathy because even though Dolly’s chromosomal defects weren’t blatantly obvious to others, they were real enough.
Emily Gallagher did a slow, thorough look of him, then his daughter, then back. “You mean she won’t.”
“She’s afraid.”
Emily’s expression said she’d figured that out herself. “Won’t stop being afraid until she does it, I expect.”
Irritation mushroomed inside him, like it did every time someone expected Dolly to be normal. She wasn’t normal, not by society’s standards. He understood that, so what was wrong with the rest of the world? “You have kids, Miss Gallagher?”
She shook her head.
“But you know everything there is to know about kids, I suppose? Especially kids with Dolly’s condition?” He was tired of fielding questions from people who doubted Dolly’s diagnosis of Down syndrome, just because her face looked more normal than most affected children.
“Actually, I do,” she answered easily as she flipped the page. “I spent summers here, helping my mother, but my off-campus job during the school year was working in a children’s group home. I spent four years on staff there. We had several clients with limited abilities, some with Down syndrome, and I was honored to work with the wide spectrum of effect. I might have majored in business and fashion design, but I worked with therapists, clinicians and the kids. It’s scary for a normally functioning kid to take those first steps, too, but parents don’t discourage them.”
He hated that she made perfect sense, because Aunt Tillie had been telling him the same thing. Did he want Dolly to be stymied by her limitations? Or did he want her to reach for the stars?
He scowled, because this wasn’t open for discussion. He wanted his perfectly imperfect daughter to be safe. End of story. “Let’s get back to the wedding planning, shall we?”
“Of course.” She answered smoothly, but that was to be expected of a woman who used to field pageant judge questions with grace and a welcoming smile. She smiled now, but something in her eyes said he’d just flunked a test he didn’t even know he’d been taking.
* * *
Emily Gallagher was pretty sure she needed her life back, a life of fabrics and fashions made to flatter the everyday woman.
Schmoozing overprotective fathers hadn’t made her short list, ever. And yet, here she was, helping out with the family business because she was needed. She was fine with that part. It was the bridezilla factor she disliked, and in this case, the “brother-zilla.”
He’d looked downright appealing striding down that hall, toting an adorable twin in each arm.
Tall, strong and vigorous with dark wavy hair and gray-blue eyes. Out of place and yet perfectly natural as he lugged two toddlers into the reception area of her mother’s wedding and event-planning office. And yes...smokin’ hot, even though he was older than her by a decade.
Emily knew his story. Most of the town knew Grant’s story because he was a public figure. Head of the highway department and public works, he was the man in charge for blizzards, floods, road collapses and season-to-season road repair.
Privacy was nonexistent for town officials. She knew that firsthand, her father having been the town police chief for decades. Living center stage was one of the downsides of small-town life. The entire area knew Grant’s wife had walked out on him after having twins, one of whom had Down syndrome. And here he was, trying to juggle raising two kids and planning his sister’s wedding while she and her fiancé were deployed.
Sympathy welled within her, and she drew on that initial reaction when the guy caved to Dolly’s miniature temper tantrum.
Not her kid. Not her business.
Her sister Rory came through the back door just then. Mags, their mother’s spunky Yorkshire terrier, raced in with her. Mags spotted the kids, spun around in circles, jumped up on her hind legs and yapped hello.
“Does she bite?” Grant asked.
Emily raised her eyes slowly as Rory scooped up the Yorkie. “Only on command.”
He narrowed his gaze, holding hers, and she wondered if he was going to get up and walk out. He didn’t, but she was pretty sure he was tempted to. “Keeping these two safe isn’t an easy task, Miss Gallagher.”
“Whereas my dad always told us life was meant to be lived, challenge by challenge.”
He put up his hands as if conceding a battle. “Well, runway walking can be considered dangerous, especially in high heels.”
She froze.
So did Rory and Allison, as if they couldn’t believe what he just said. Even the dog paused, but then Emily burst out laughing. The thought that she still had to justify her Miss Rochester and Miss New York pageant wins years later was absolutely hilarious. Obviously, her years as a major department store buyer were inconsequential in her hometown. “Fortunately, wedding planning is rarely lethal, so we’re all good. What kind of budget are we looking at for Captain McCarthy’s wedding?”
He had the grace to look uncomfortable.
He reached out and steered Dolly away from the stairs. “My mother created a fund specifically for this wedding before she passed away.” He named a figure that allowed her some latitude, and as Emily went through the list of typical questions, he relaxed somewhat. Of course Rory and Mags were now amusing the toddlers, and that was a big help as Allison put the finishing touches on a planning board for an upcoming reception at an esteemed vineyard.
Emily laid out a bunch of brochures before him. “Mr. McCarthy, your job makes you uniquely familiar with the area.”
He nodded, but didn’t ask her to call him by his first name like a normal person would. She wasn’t sure why that irked her, but it did.
“Weather might go our way, or it might not. We’ve had some of our worst storms in January, ranging from blizzards to ice storms, to driving rain storms that caused road flooding,” she said.
“I can’t change the date.”
She acknowledged that smoothly. “I realize that, but I want you to have a clear picture as you make choices. Choosing a hillside setting can be lovely if it’s blanketed in snow, but horrific if we’ve got icy conditions and no one can get to the venue. Likewise, the lakeshore options are stunning, but a mild winter where the lake doesn’t freeze can cause road flooding if we get a storm that weekend. If your department has to close roads, it means no one can access the reception.”
“Gotcha.” He studied the brochures, then angled a look to her, and when he did, she had to remind her heart that he was a somewhat presumptuous jerk who overprotected his children, no matter how gorgeous his smoke-toned eyes were. “A town reception venue would be a better choice, don’t you think?”
She shrugged. “I hate to discourage you from the others, because they’re gorgeous, but it’s important for our clients to see the whole picture when they plan an event. On the other hand...” She slanted a smile his way, and for just a moment, he held that look, almost as if interested...which was completely preposterous, of course. “You are the head of the highway department, your people are skilled at keeping roads clear and the few mishaps that have occurred are rare. So now it’s up to you. Shall we set up a time to go see some of these lakeside venues? I’ve got Monday free. Is it possible for you to get some time off?”
“There’s no availability to see them on a Saturday?”
She shook her head. “Fall and the holidays are crazy busy. They’re booked solid. We could arrange for evening visits if time off is difficult. I can call the ones that interest you, arrange a food tasting and a tour.”
“What evenings are you free next week?” he asked.
She should lie.
She should pretend to be crazy busy with a social life that overflowed into the following year, but the fact that she had every single night free was her new reality. “I’m available Monday through Thursday.”
He scanned the brochures, then handed three back to her. “Let’s check these first. I’d take the day off but Norm Pinkerton is out for knee surgery and he’s second-in-command. I really can’t take any vacation days for a few weeks.”
“Evenings are fine,” she assured him. “I’ll make arrangements. Our local venues hunger for business in the winter. They’ll offer us price concessions we’d never get in the busy season, and they’ll throw in extras to tempt you to sign with them.”
“I love a great deal,” he admitted. “But won’t that just muddy the waters?”
“Not with me on board.” She filed the brochures he’d chosen into a folder and started to stand.
He beat her to it, stood and reached down a hand to help her up.
Hand in hand, he pulled her upright, then steadied her with his other hand at her waist.
Electricity buzzed. The lights might have dimmed, or flashed or maybe they did nothing at all, maybe it was just the feel of her hand wrapped in his. Warm, solid, strong, yet gentle, as if he was the kind of man who was strong enough to be gentle.
Back away. He thinks you’re an airheaded beauty queen, and he’s kind of a jerk, so pretend you felt nothing and do your job.
She obeyed her conscience happily. Grant McCarthy may have traveled a tough road since his wife left, but she’d been handed a similar set of walking papers from her rich, self-absorbed ex-husband, and she wasn’t a jerk about it.
She slipped her hand away, pretended his touch had no effect on her and took a firm step back. “I’ll set these up and let you know the details. Do you prefer phone or email contact?”
“Email’s fine.”
Of course it was. Why would he want any more human contact with her than absolutely necessary?
She nodded, tapped her folder and moved toward the stairs. “I’ll send you times as soon as I have them.”
“I’ll be watching for them.”
She heard Rory laugh and chat as she helped Grant get the twins’ jackets fastened, and as the upstairs glass door swung silently shut behind her, she paused, wishing she could go back and help with those two priceless children.
She knew that kids with disabilities did better with high expectations. The thought that Grant McCarthy was content with babying that little girl made her pulse race.
Of course, when he’d held her hand her pulse raced in a different way, but she chalked that up to reading too many romances lately. Since coming home a year before, she’d avoided dating. She was back in Grace Haven on temporary assignment, to help her parents in a time of need. Her father was fighting brain cancer, and her mother’s popular event-planning business was funding the cost of experimental treatments in Texas. To keep the business going, she and her sister Kimberly had stepped in to help.
Kimberly was a natural at wedding planning. She’d learned the business alongside their mother, and with her parents’ impending retirement, it was natural for Kimberly to step into the role of running Kate & Company.
Emily was more at home on the wedding-gown end of things. Outfitting a bridal party, choosing materials and coordinating an entire look of a wedding came naturally to the former department store women’s fashion buyer.
Dealing with the chronic back-and-forth of event planning drove her a little crazy. It stifled her creativity. But if it helped her father’s prognosis, she could be crazy for however long it took.
But then—what next?
She had no idea, but she was pretty sure it wouldn’t be here in her hometown. She didn’t want to step on Kimberly’s toes, or be given a job out of sympathy.
She wanted respect. The respect she’d been denied in marriage, the respect she’d been denied professionally when her ex-husband’s father dismissed her from the company. Grant McCarthy’s cutting remark voiced what too many felt, that pageants were nothing more than pretty girls on parade. Her titles had paid for her education, and given her inroads with top designers, but that didn’t alter some opinions that pageants were nothing but fluff, and that meant the contestants were, too.
At what point would she stop feeling the need to prove herself and just be Emily?
Her parents had been proud of her pageant success, so Grant McCarthy could just stifle his negativity. She didn’t need it, didn’t want it and wasn’t about to put up with being anyone else’s castoff, ever again. Not personally and not professionally.
Chapter Two (#ulink_204ba8a3-1b90-5274-b6d0-2d6df82b4c18)
Later that day, Grant spotted the international number code pop up on his cell phone. He grabbed the phone as he muted college football on TV. “Christa, hey! How are you? How’s everything going? Isn’t it the middle of the night over there?”
“I’m all right,” she told him, and she sounded good. So good. “I’m on an overnight and had some time and figured the kids might be in bed.”
“They are—we’ve got temporary peace in the kingdom.” He laughed when he said it because he knew the reality behind the words. “I met with the wedding planner today, and we’re scoping out reception places this week. I checked the guest list and figured about a hundred and thirty people, right?”
“The guest list. Yes. I—” A slight pause ensued, as if he’d lost the connection.
“Christa, you there?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m here.” She still sounded funny, though. Almost cautious. “Yes, around one thirty with both families and friends. Maybe a few more. I’m guilt stricken that I’m sticking you with all this. It’s not like your life is exactly easy, but Mrs. Gallagher is a sweetheart. She’ll smooth things out for you.”
“Well, it’s Emily I’m working with. The middle sister.” With the great hair, gorgeous face and take-no-prisoners attitude.
“Emily’s back?” Surprise raised Christa’s voice. “The last I knew she was married and living in Philadelphia.”
“Well, she appears to be single and here in Grace Haven,” Grant told her. “She and Kimberly are running the business while her father undergoes treatment.”
“The cancer. Of course.” Christa’s voice deepened. “I’ve got him on my prayer list,” she went on. Static messed up her next words, but Grant heard the last phrase succinctly. “I hate cancer.”
“Me, too,” Grant told her, though he wasn’t putting stock in prayer lists. His mother had been an amazingly devout woman, and what did that get her?
Two extended bouts with cancer before they lost her. His father had walked out on them over thirty years before, and Grant used to pray his heart out as a little kid, begging God to bring his dad back. It never happened. His prayers went unanswered, and that was a good lesson learned at a young age. God didn’t exist, because if he did, he didn’t take his job all that seriously. Grant took everything seriously as a result. “I’ll keep you updated on things either through email or phone, okay?”
“Yes, thank you! And if you can copy Spencer, that would be great.”
“Will do. And don’t you worry about anything,” he instructed. “Your job is to stay safe, finish this deployment and get married. Everything here will be fine, I promise.”
“Thank you! I love you, Grant.”
Her words made him smile. “I love you, too. We’re all we’ve got now, so we’ve got to stick together.”
Silence greeted his words again. When she finally answered him, he realized it must be a delayed connection. “We’ll stick together, all right. Hey, gotta go. I’ll call again soon, okay?”
“Yes. Goodbye, Chris—”
The phone hummed in his ear. She’d hung up.
He set his phone down and turned off the game. Life was somewhat crazy right now, and he didn’t see that getting better anytime soon. He had the kids in the only day care center comfortable with Dolly’s behavior issues, his eccentric aunt thought he was spreading himself too thin and needed a wife, and the twins were generally either catching something or getting over something.
This was his normal.
He pulled into his aunt and uncle’s yard on Monday morning, ready to start a new week. Aunt Tillie bustled out the side door to greet him while Uncle Percy followed at a less frenetic pace.
“How are the wedding plans coming?” Aunt Tillie demanded in a too-loud voice. “You makin’ progress?”
He fibbed slightly. He assumed they were, but he had thought he’d hear from Emily Gallagher and he hadn’t. “Yes. If I need to go check out some wedding stuff tonight, can you sit with the kids?”
“What those little ones need is a mother,” Tillie declared for about the hundredth time. “I can’t say it’s right.” She shook her head firmly, and her frown matched the motion. “Them bein’ in day care all day, then with a sitter at night, but if you need me, I’ll be here. Hi, darlins!” She smiled and waved into the backseat, blowing kisses a mile a minute.
The twins laughed and waved back as he and Uncle Percy pulled out of the driveway. He dropped the kids at Mary Flanagan’s day care center, got to work and as soon as his office door slapped shut behind him, he called Kate & Company. When Allison put the call through to Emily, he pretended the sound of her voice didn’t make him want to suck his stomach in. He was in good shape and he didn’t care what Emily Gallagher thought about anything other than weddings. “Miss Gallagher, I thought I’d hear from you by now. I was wondering if you were able to set up times for me to see those wedding venues.”
“Of course.” She sounded surprised, and her next words explained why. “I sent you an email Saturday afternoon confirming two stops tonight, one at five thirty and one at seven, and then tomorrow night at six for the third venue. I’m sorry you didn’t get it.”
“Nope, not here,” he replied, but then he noticed his spam folder wasn’t empty. There it was, an email from Kate & Company. “Wait, I lied. Your email got spammed.”
She laughed, and he realized it was a nice laugh, soft and kind. The kind of laugh that made you feel better about things and made small children giggle out loud. Like Dolly did last week. “So are we okay for tonight?” she asked. “Do you have someone who can watch Timmy and Dolly?”
She remembered their names.
Why did that mean something?
He didn’t know why, but it did because almost everyone referred to them as a set. How are the twins? Can you bring the twins? Hey, Grant, I saw the twins yesterday...
Hearing her call them by name sloughed off some of his gruffness. “Aunt Tillie and Uncle Percy are coming over. They’ll stay as late as they need to.”
“Perfect. I’ll meet you at the Edgewater Inn for the first appointment at five thirty. We can go on from there.”
“I’ll see you then.”
He went through the day going over a winter preparedness checklist with the town staff. Being ready for winter storms meant planning in advance, and as they rechecked everything from salt to backup plow blades and which roads had botched pothole patches rising above road level, his eyes strayed to the big round clock on the wall several times.
“Boss, you got an appointment?” Jeannie Delgado asked around four thirty. “Because you’ve had your eye on that clock the past hour.”
“I do, so let’s call an end to this meeting.” He stood, gathered his things and pulled his jacket on. “I’ve got to get the kids home to Tillie. I’m meeting with the wedding planner the next two nights so we can pick things for Christa’s wedding.”
“Marvelous!” Jeannie’s inflection offered full approval. “You’re a good brother, Grant. So many folks don’t bother with family these days. Having family around is a wonderful thing. Enjoy your evening and if they give out samples of cake, bring a few back here tomorrow.”
“Cake is on Friday’s schedule, on my lunch hour,” he told her. “And I haven’t even begun to figure out how Christa’s going to search for a wedding gown. How do you find a wedding gown from overseas? Buy it there and ship it back?”
“I have no idea.” Jeannie frowned. “Maybe she’ll buy it online, have it delivered here then have it altered at the last minute?”
He’d been feeling pretty good about checking out reception spots. Food he understood, and as the man in charge of a multimillion-dollar town highway budget, he had a great head for numbers. But ribbons and lace? Flowers?
No, no, and no.
Circumstances left him little choice, so he drove to day care, picked up two busy children, dealt with Dolly’s backseat anger issues for over five miles and got them home to Aunt Tillie. Then he showered and changed, got back in the car and drove to the Edgewater Inn. He arrived five minutes early, something that didn’t happen often now that he was a single dad. When Emily Gallagher pulled into the lot driving a cherry-red SUV, he realized anew that this woman had spent her life being noticed and didn’t mind it in the least. Just knowing that made him want—no...make that need—to keep a distance. He’d lived that scenario once. He had no intention of living it again.
“You made it.” She smiled a welcome as he walked toward her.
“I did.”
“Excellent. Now, when we get inside the new chef’s name is Henry, but he likes to be called Henri, so when I do that to appease his somewhat crazy artistic nature, don’t laugh. Okay?”
“Well, now I’ll have to laugh because you mentioned it,” he admitted. “If you’d said nothing, I’d have simply assumed that Henri was his name.”
“So I’m safer if I leave you in the dark? If I refuse to spill any insider wedding-planning secrets?”
Hints of gold brightened her brown eyes, and standing this close, he realized tiny points of ivory lightened the darkness around her pupil, giving her a winsome look that matched her bright smile.
Except he was immune to bright smiles and winsome was overrated. “I can handle secrets on a limited basis. The problem with telling me information is that I might mess up everything by blurting it out at the worst possible time.”
“I consider myself forewarned.” She walked to the well-lit formal entrance. He reached out to draw the door open. She had to duck under his arm to go in, and when she straightened on the other side, the dark green wool of her coat brushed his cheek.
The delicious vanilla scent made him think of country kitchens, warm fires and snow-filled nights. When she shifted to face him as they moved down the broad hall, the combination of bright eyes, gorgeous hair, soft scent and subtle lipstick made him long to draw closer.
He couldn’t, but he wanted to and that was a dangerous combination. He had a job to do, two jobs, actually. Raising two kids on his own wasn’t ever going to be a simple task, and running the town’s highway force kept thousands of people safe every day. No way could he afford to have his attention split, but the minute they walked into the inn manager’s office and Emily shrugged off her coat, he realized working with Emily for the next two months wasn’t going to be a walk in the park.
His ex-wife had always said redheads should never wear pink.
She was wrong about that and a great many other things, because Emily Gallagher tossed that mane of auburn hair over the shoulder of a hot-pink dress, slipped into the upholstered chair the inn manager offered and withdrew her electronic notepad with finesse. If Chef Henri kept looking at her like that, Grant was tempted to give him a firm right jab to the chin. “Henry?”
The chef turned, obviously miffed by his pronunciation, but Grant didn’t care. At least the guy stopped eyeing Emily.
“Henri.” The chef’s haughty manner was an instant turnoff, but the dishes they sampled were magnificent. For great food and a reasonable price, Grant could deal with Henri’s arrogance if he needed to.
“This raspberry reduction with the burgundy and nut-crusted pork is amazing.” Emily made a note on her tablet. “And those mushroom potatoes? Henri, I’d love to learn how to make those. I don’t suppose you’d share the recipe, would you?”
Henri laughed and didn’t look the least bit humble. “Henri has, of course, studied much to achieve the pinnacles of food, so no, I cannot share the chef’s secrets I’ve acquired, but I will be happy now just knowing you approve.”
The inn manager cleared his throat, as if reminding the chef that the final decision wasn’t up to Emily. The chef redirected his attention to Grant with a slight huff, then waited while Grant sampled a charbroiled steak with mushroom, bread and herb stuffing. “Amazing. This is tricky enough to create for one person, much less re-creating it for over a hundred. You’ve outdone yourself, Henri.”
His compliment must have soothed the cook’s ruffled feathers because he held up a hand. “One moment.” He disappeared, then reappeared with two crystal cups, filled with something warm and sweet. “A treat to sample. This is a delicious way to wrap up a crisp evening, no?”
Grant tasted his, and he was about to sing the dessert’s praises when Emily sighed and held her glass aloft after one spoonful. “Perfection in a cup. The hint of caramel balances the background of cinnamon, and is that nutmeg or allspice I taste?”
Henri beamed and shrugged, ready to carry the secret to his grave.
“Nutmeg,” she decided. She took another taste, then smiled again. “Clever, Henri! And delicious. What did you think, Mr. McCarthy?”
Right now having her use his full name seemed preposterous. The inn manager sent him an odd look. “Grant, please. We’ll be working together for some time, so of course first names are in order.”
She sent him an almost impudent look, but held her tongue. “This bread pudding, Grant.” She took one more taste and languished over it, and he was pretty sure she did it on purpose. “Amazing, right?”
“One of the best desserts I’ve ever had, Henri. A hint of French to soften the simplicity of Old English.”
Henri’s smile widened. “That is exactly what I was looking for! Old, new, French, English, American blended as one.”
“Henri, I know you’ve got other things to do this evening to get ready for tomorrow’s banquet. Thank you.” The inn manager motioned to a small table nearby. “If you would both sit here, I can go over the options with a pricing sheet, and then print up an actual price list for Captain McCarthy’s wedding if you book with us.”
By the time they’d finished, they had exactly ten minutes to get to the next appointment, a hillside vineyard and party house overlooking the southern end of the lake. Grant followed Emily there, parked next to her then accompanied her into the vineyard.
He knew it was wrong instantly. Too new, too garish, too many lights, not enough charm. When they’d finished the tasting and Emily cut them loose quickly, he knew she understood. They got to her car before she spoke. “Good call on that. First, you kept your opinion to yourself and that’s a favor to me because I have to work with these folks as long as I’m here, working at Kate & Company. Thank you for being discreet.”
As long as she was here? He leaned one hand against her car. “You’re welcome. I do have manners most of the time,” he told her. “What do you mean, as long as you’re here? Are you leaving?” he asked. “The correct answer would be no, because if you leave in the middle of these wedding plans, I’m toast.”
“I’ll be here to see Christa’s wedding through.” She opened the back door and tucked her notebook inside her bag before she turned back.
“But you’re not staying here? In Grace Haven?” It shouldn’t surprise him. Emily had big city written all over her.
She met his gaze frankly. “There aren’t a lot of jobs for clothing buyers in Grace Haven.”
He frowned. “But you have a job with Kate & Company.”
“Currently, yes. But once Dad’s on the mend, I think Kimberly can handle this with one hand tied behind her back. She’s an absolute whiz with event planning. My guess is she won’t need her little sister hanging around.” She tipped her gaze up to the crystal clear sky, then sighed with appreciation. “Doesn’t looking up at the vastness of the night sky just fill you with wonder? You don’t get views like this in the city.”
It didn’t fill him with wonder because he was too busy looking down, but he followed her gaze to the pinpoints of galactic sparkle and agreed. “Amazing.”
“Wondrous, right? Anyway.” She shrugged lightly. “Taking over Mom’s business is perfect for Kimberly. She’s spent her life grooming herself for this, and I’m not about to step on her toes. But in the meantime, I’m here to help so that Mom and Dad have no worries. Living at home gives me zero expenses, so I can plan my next steps. If I end up in a big city, the cost of living gets absolutely crazy.”
“I see.” He’d lived life with a discontented woman once. He’d dealt with the result, too, and he wasn’t about to take that risk again. “Well, I’m glad you’re here to guide me through the whole process.”
“Me, too.” The sincerity of her tone warmed him, and once again he was drawn, but she’d just cemented reasons to resist the attraction. He was staying. She was leaving. End of story. “Tomorrow we’ll stop at the Lodge at Fairhaven. They’re new, but they do a great job.”
“That’s where my cousin’s wedding was, wasn’t it?”
“You don’t remember?” She made a face as he swung her car door open. “It couldn’t have been all that good if you don’t remember it from last spring.”
“Dolly was sick.” He shrugged. “When you’re doing this stuff on your own and you get a sick kid, you opt out of the party and stay home.”
“My dad was like that, too. All about priorities.”
“Your father’s a good guy.” Grant lowered his voice, unsure how to approach the next subject. “I’m glad he’s doing better, but I was sorry to hear about the cancer. I lost my mom to breast cancer and I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.”
“Are we ever?” She stared up at the stars once more, then looked back at him. Her breath puffed a tiny cloud of frozen steam into the air until a breath of wind sent it dancing away. “I’m sorry you lost her. Is your dad still alive?”
“Don’t know. Don’t much care. He left when Christa was a baby. I barely remember him, so it’s like I never had a father. My mother never remarried—she said it was too risky with me and my sister. What if she married the wrong person? What if he was mean to us? So she wouldn’t let herself date or get interested in anyone until we were on our own, and by that time, she’d already had her first bout of cancer. She survived that one, but the second round, well...” He waited a moment to let the rise of emotion pass. “You know.”
“So being a good father is truly important to you.”
He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and gave a slow nod. “Yeah, of course. I didn’t have one so it’s not like I’ve got some great role model, but my mother was solid. I kind of do what she would have done except I’m more cautious, I don’t bake cookies and I’m a lousy cook. Happily, Dolly and Tim love PB&J, mac and cheese, and Oreos. With the occasional vegetable thrown in as long as it’s corn or squash.”
“They’re beautiful kids.”
They were, and because he was their only parent, he needed to have a plan, always. “Thank you. I’m real lucky to have them.”
She flashed him a look he couldn’t read, then nodded. “Kids are a blessing, for sure. Well.” She slipped into her car. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
He didn’t want to wait until tomorrow, but he wasn’t a rash man. He didn’t act on impulse. He couldn’t afford to, not now when two small children meant so much. He wasn’t about to make foolish mistakes to disrupt their lives. He stepped back, lifted his hand and nodded. “See you then.”
* * *
If ever a man needed some serious roadside repair, it was Grant McCarthy. Oh, she saw the good side of the guy. His devotion to his children, his strong work ethic, the sacrificial nature and his strong, rugged good looks. A man who saw what needed to be done and simply did it. Those were all wonderful qualities.
But Emily had learned one thing during her years of pageants and contests. Judging was fine on stage, but in everyday life, judgmental people weren’t her style and the minute Grant McCarthy started talking about his father, red flags popped up.
Judge not, that ye be not judged.
She’d lived both sides of that wise verse. She was older now and wiser than the college-age contestant she’d been when Chris Barrister won her heart six years ago.
He’d tossed her aside when he grew tired of her, and she’d learned to be more cautious as a result. No one would ever get to treat her or her heart casually ever again.
But something about Grant spoke to her.
Was it because they’d both suffered through rough marriages? His wife dumped him. Her husband gave her the boot, albeit with a generous settlement, but the buyout didn’t heal the ache of knowing she wasn’t enough. No matter how hard she worked, how sweet or funny or kind she was, how good she looked, she hadn’t been enough to keep him happy for more than two years of marriage. Being let go from his father’s company simply underscored rampant opinion that she’d gotten the job through nothing more than looking good and being married to the boss’s son.
That galled her because she’d done a great job for Barrister’s, Inc., and the women’s department sales figures had increased dramatically while she sat in the head buyer’s chair. She’d garnered recognition and job interest from other department store chains when Noel Barrister let her go, but then Dad got sick and she knew what she needed to do.
So here she was, in Grace Haven, following in Kimberly’s shadow once again.
She pulled into the driveway a few minutes later, drove past the carriage house garage, where her future brother-in-law and his daughter, Amy, lived, and walked into her parents’ house, restless.
“How’d it go?” Kimberly looked up from her laptop. “Did he pick a venue tonight or are you still on for tomorrow night?”
“Tomorrow night,” Emily said. She flopped down into her father’s favorite recliner, kicked off her shoes and rubbed her sore, aching feet. “Remind me to get rid of those shoes, no matter how nice they look with this dress.”
“That dress is a knockout,” Rory said as she came in from the kitchen. She took one look at Emily, then sank onto the carpet and started rubbing her sister’s feet. “What’s wrong? Did tonight go badly?”
“No. It was fine. I’m just—” Emily thought, came up with nothing and shrugged. “Out of sorts. Restless. Wondering about everything, the meaning of life, why things happen like they do and why women feel the need to wear stupid shoes.”
“You like him,” Kimberly noted from her chair.
It was beyond annoying to have an older sister who prided herself on being right, especially when it was true too much of the time. “At this moment I don’t like anyone.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Kimberly jotted something into the laptop, and said, “Invite him to my wedding.”
“Not gonna happen.” She looked down at Rory, still massaging the ache out of her left foot. “Thank you.”
A big woof sounded from outside.
Mags had been sound asleep, curled in a tiny ball on the carpet, but when Drew Slade’s German shepherd barked, she sprang up, raced to the door and stood on her tiny back legs, pawing.
“Come on, Mags.” Drew came through the door, let the little dog out then slid the door shut. “Cold and getting colder. They said snow in the mountains.”
“And so it begins.” Emily lolled her head back and waved to him. “Hey, Drew.”
He smiled at her, winked and walked across the floor to Kimberly. “You can tell it’s a sure thing when your future wife doesn’t even bother to get out of her chair to greet you with a kiss.”
Kimberly hit one last button, set the computer aside and gave him the kiss he sought.
Emily pouted inside.
She had thought she’d had that once. What was it that made someone fickle? To want something else, someone else? Was it her lack or his selfishness? Or both? Or had she fallen for the glitz of the whole thing? There were many questions and not enough answers.
“Hey.” Rory squeezed her foot as Drew and Kimberly moved into the kitchen to find food and discuss their upcoming wedding. And probably kiss more. “Don’t look back. Gaze forward. Remember that awesome Einstein quote?”
She made a face and Rory laughed. “There are only two ways to live. One is as if nothing is a miracle. The other is as if everything is.”
“Perspective.”
“Yup.” Rory switched feet. “With Dad’s problems, I have to push myself to remember we’ve had him all our lives. How blessed we were to have both parents, a home, heat, clothing.”
“You’re so much better than I am,” Emily remarked. “Take my feet, for example. If you’d come in with sore feet, I’d have said ‘Wow, go soak in a tub. That’ll help.’”
Rory smiled up at her. “So does this.”
“You make things personal. Maybe that’s part of my problem. Maybe I don’t make things personal.”
Rory sighed and gave her foot a smack.
“Hey!”
“You don’t have a problem. You’re a wonderful person. The worst thing you did was fall in love with the wrong person because he pretended he was the right person.”
“You’re letting me off too easy,” Emily replied and when Rory started to argue, she held up a hand. “I was kind of young and shallow, Rory. I can own it now. When Christopher started courting me I was at the top of my game. I’d been Miss New York, I aced college, I was ready to move on to the next perfect step. Marrying a rich guy, falling into an amazing job as a department store buyer and living in a mansion made me feel like a princess. I liked it. So I can’t lay all the blame at his feet.”
“Lots of girls want to be princesses,” Rory told her.
“But not you. Never you. Why?”
Rory shrugged. “Not my thing. I’m not the gilded type, I guess. But in spite of why you came home last year, I’m glad you did. Handling Dad’s illness is a whole lot easier for me when we’re all in this together.” She stood up and kissed Emily’s cheek. “I’m subbing tomorrow in a first grade classroom, so I’m heading up to bed. Good night, Em.”
“Good night.”
The murmur of voices in the kitchen told her Drew and Kimberly were deep in discussion. She was just about to go to bed herself when her phone buzzed. She pulled up a text from Grant and sighed. He’d sent her a picture of Timmy and Dolly, sleeping, tangled in covers, sharing a bed. And under it Grant had typed, Unusual moment of peace, now recorded for posterity.
Something sweet and gentle curled inside her. She sent back a single-word reply. Precious.
She went to bed, smiling, the image of those two sweet children blending with Einstein’s words.
Chapter Three (#ulink_dcc74c30-a994-5b44-81a6-0159e1f894eb)
“Well, don’t you look handsome,” Aunt Tillie remarked the next evening. “Percy, don’t Grant look handsome tonight?”
Uncle Percy grunted, unimpressed, but when Timmy saw him dressed in a turtleneck and a sport coat, he frowned. “I go bye-bye, too.”
“Not this time, little man. Daddy’s got to go see more people about Auntie’s wedding.”
His words didn’t impress the toddler. “I go bye-bye wif Daddy.”
Grant squatted down, hugged the toddler and shook his head. “No can do, Daddy’s got some things he has to do. Aunt Tillie and Uncle Percy are with you tonight.”
“I go!” Dolly crawled across the dining area, grabbed a kitchen chair leg, hauled herself up and stomped a foot. “I go!”
“Not you, either, button. And on that note...” He gave Dolly a kiss, kissed Timmy again and left his aunt with two squalling children. “Sorry.”
She waved him off, calm as ever. “This is all for your benefit, Grant. They’ll be fine in two minutes. You’ll feel guilty all night while they play and laugh and giggle and eat mac and cheese. Go, get this done, and Christa will be thrilled.”
He walked to the garage, torn. He’d gotten a lecture today from Dolly’s occupational therapist, reminding him that she needed to work on skills daily, but that was easier said than done. Dolly had become an expert at refusing to do the simplest tasks, which meant her motor skills were dragging even further behind.
Was Aunt Tillie right? Were they really fine in a couple of minutes while he wore a mantle of guilt all evening? He drove to the lodge, saw Emily’s SUV then felt guilty for looking forward to the evening. He got out, crossed the couple of spaces to her car and opened the door for her.
“Thank you!” Her bright smile warmed him, and that only made the guilt mount higher. “How was your day?”
His day had been fine until fifteen minutes ago, and he didn’t want to lay all that at her door, so he shrugged. “It was okay. Yours?”
She studied him, then shook her head. “You’re worried about something. If it has to do with the wedding, spill it now.”
“It’s not about the wedding.” And then, ten seconds after deciding not to lay it at her door, he recounted the kids’ antics. She nodded, frowned in sympathy then laughed out loud.
He tucked his neck deeper in his coat, aggrieved. “It wasn’t one bit funny when two little kids were crying because they miss their daddy and I’m too busy to be with them.”
“It is kind of funny,” she insisted. “Because Tillie is right. I told you I worked in a children’s home during college, and this is textbook toddler attachment stuff. We even started messaging pics to the parents five minutes later to prove our point. They’re fine, they’re just experts at pushing the guilt button. They don’t like the moment of separation, and boy, do they let you know it. I bet if Aunt Tillie was to send you a picture right now, it would be of two happy, healthy, goofy kids playing or eating and having the time of their lives.”
“Which is exactly what they say at day care, too.” He worked his jaw, then shrugged one shoulder. “I’m a pushover when it comes to them.”
She moved forward to the lodge door, let him open it and smiled over her shoulder. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
He let the door swing shut behind them and followed her to the hostess station.
He liked the setting instantly. One part of the lodge was a restaurant, known for great food and its cozy, rustic atmosphere. Cozy and rustic worked for him, and he was pretty sure it would work for two air force officers tying the knot.
When the owner/manager sat down with them and covered everything in detail, Grant was sold, unless the food tasting went bad.
It didn’t.
Instead of the tiny bites he’d been offered last night, the lodge owner served them a full meal at a linen-draped table complete with a centerpiece and a candle, alongside a fireplace.
It was like a date, only it wasn’t, he reminded himself.
But the feeling persisted as they laughed and talked their way through dinner. “This is amazing,” he told her.
“The Celtic stew, the homemade bread or the beef?”
“All of it, plus the setting, the service and the prices are so reasonable. And I like the idea of family-style dining.”
“Dishes at the table, everybody sharing. I like that, too. It’s Sunday-dinner-friendly and most folks enjoy that.”
“The phrase pass the peas becomes a conversation starter.”
“Exactly.” She smiled at him, made a note in her tablet and sipped her water.
“I bet Timmy and Dolly would love the big animals on the walls.” She pointed over his shoulder to the authentic-looking deer, moose and bear.
He winced. “They’re two. Taking them out to eat usually turns into a food fight. Timmy’s getting a little better, but Dolly’s stubbornness gets in the way, so we rarely go anyplace.” He waited, and when she said nothing, he nodded an acknowledgment. “Of course, it’s pretty clear she’s got me somewhat snowed.”
“Somewhat,” Emily agreed, but she said it gently, as if she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Grant appreciated that. Between Tillie, the occupational therapist and day care, everyone had something to say these days. That meant they were probably correct, but he appreciated Emily’s gentler approach.
“So tonight, we need to have coffee or something,” she told him outside. “We can go to the diner, but it’s late and they’ll be closing. Or we can sit down at your place or mine. Rory stopped by Gabriella’s bakery today.”
“If we go to my place and wake the kids, we’ll get nothing done, so if you don’t mind, your place sounds good. And the baked goods seal the deal.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
* * *
Emily parked her car behind Kimberly’s and waited until Grant pulled in alongside her. She climbed out and headed to the walk, waiting. He took longer than she expected, and when a blast of eastbound wind tunneled in from the west, she pulled her coat tighter. He glanced her way, looking surprised.
Realization flashed in his eyes. He popped the door open and pocketed his phone, looking contrite. “Sorry. I wanted to give Tillie an idea of my time frame, but you didn’t have to wait. It’s cold out here.”
She started for the door. “I didn’t want you to feel awkward coming in.”
“Do you make people feel awkward?”
She turned to face him and caught his smile beneath the lamps lighting the stoned path. “I try not to. Guess my success rate could use an upgrade.”
“My batting average isn’t all it could be, either,” he told her, and the way he said it sounded like he understood regret.
“We usually have meetings in the office.” She indicated The Square up the road. “But there’s no sense going over there, turning on all the lights when there are perfectly delicious cookies and brownies here, courtesy of my sister Rory.” She opened the door as she mentioned Rory’s name, and her sister waved from the far side of the living room.
“Grant?”
Kimberly came through from the kitchen. So did Drew. “I’m Kimberly. I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you yet, but Dad says a lot of good stuff about you.”
“When the highway department can keep the old police chief and the new police chief’s office happy, then everybody’s happy,” Grant told her. He nodded toward Drew, the newly appointed chief of police. “This guy’s got some pretty big shoes to fill, because your father did one solid job as chief. But so far, so good.” He winked at Drew as he shook Kimberly’s hand.
“Feeling’s mutual.” Drew clapped him on the back. “You did a great job facilitating that meeting of the town leaders the other day. I appreciated it.”
“I forgot that you two will actually have to work together on some things now.” Emily made a face. “My bad.”
“Grant, I know this is short notice, but if you can sneak away for a few hours next week, come to our wedding.” Drew took a seat at the big round oak table and motioned Grant to sit down. “We’ve got plenty of room and food. We’d love to have you there.”
Grant grimaced. “I’d like to, but I’m walking around with way too much guilt for leaving Tim and Dolly as much as I do already. It seems like I’m not home nearly as much as I’d like to be.”
“Bring them along,” Kimberly said. Grant gave her a blank stare.
“You didn’t just say that. Did you?”
“I did, and I meant it. It’s not a huge affair. We actually like kids, and I’d rather have you come and bring the kids than not come,” Kimberly told him. “Call it good town relations or whatever, but I think the kids will have fun, there will be all kinds of people there to spoil them and how can that be a bad thing?”
It wasn’t a bad thing, but Grant’s hesitation indicated he might not agree.
“I know they’re little,” Emily offered. “And they probably get overwhelmed easily, but if you’d like to bring them, there’s a whole crew of Gallaghers who will be happy to help with them.”
“Dolly actually has a bunch of cute dresses she’s never worn because we don’t do fancy all that often,” he admitted.
“Nothing like a wedding to put on the dog,” Drew drawled, as if getting dressed up for anything—even his own wedding—was cruel and unusual punishment.
“Think about it.” Kimberly reached out a hand to Drew and tugged. “I expect you and Emily have things to talk about, so I’m going to drag my fiancé out to the front room and we’re going to give the to-do list one last look.”
“It’s beyond crazy how even a small family wedding can need this much attention.” Rory tipped her glasses down and peered up at Kimberly from her spot across the room. “Although in this case it might be because we have experts running their own show.”
“Hush.” Kimberly leaned down and gazed hard into Rory’s laughing eyes. “You don’t want to bite the hand that feeds you. And this is a somewhat important day in my life, brat.”
“Good point.”
Rory grinned and ducked back to her laptop, while Emily pulled her chair a little closer to Grant’s and brought up the online contracts. “I know you need to get home, so if we can go over the major points here, I’ll print things up and we’re good to go. Unless you’d rather have me email it to you so you can examine the details back at your place.”
“Here’s good. Ditches and roads are my forte, not party planning. Which is why I came to the best.”
When he said it, he looked straight at Emily, as if assured she could do the job without her mother or big sister looking over her shoulder. His vote of confidence felt good, if a bit surprising after his initial reaction to her. “I’ll contact Christa about the other things. Dress, attendants, flowers. Whatever else she has in mind, I’ll be happy to run interference for her.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Not in the least. That’s my favorite part of the process.” She tapped a few keys as she spoke, filled in a few more spots and hit Print. “I’m happy to do it. Let’s not forget that Kate & Company managed to put together a star-studded wedding for the president’s daughter, while her whole family was stomping the campaign trail two months ago. Ninety percent of that was in absentia.”
“And it was amazing,” Drew called from the other room. “Not that I’m listening to you guys or anything.”
Drew’s words seemed to bolster Grant. “If you could talk to Christa, and make everything flow for her, I don’t think there’s enough money in the world to show my thanks. She asked me to stand with her, so that’s a little weird already.”
“As her witness? What a perfectly lovely thing to do, brother and sister, standing before God together.”
He made a face. “I’d have been okay with just walking the bride down the aisle and maintaining a low profile for the remainder of the day.”
“That makes Christa’s gesture sweeter.” She handed him the hard-copy contract. “I’ve got Christa’s email now. Maybe she and I can arrange a Skype session at the bridal salon. And with so many possibilities online, we can come up with something absolutely beautiful for her.”
Grant withdrew his phone and pulled up a picture of a happy couple with snow-capped mountains in the background. “This was taken two years ago when they were at a ski lodge in Colorado. She’s built like you,” he told Emily. “But taller. She usually likes things kind of simple, but that’s everyday stuff.” He frowned at the picture. “When it comes to a wedding gown, who knows?”
“It’s always the ones you least expect who choose a princess gown,” Rory muttered as she closed her laptop and stood. “And the princesses pick a mermaid dress and can’t climb into the overpriced limo without help.”
“Yeah, like that,” Grant agreed. He shifted to face Emily directly again. “You don’t mind doing that part, too?”
“I’ll love it. I’ll get hold of Christa as soon as I can. We’ll set something up and I’ll keep you in the loop.”
Rory had crossed to the kitchen. She came back and set a tray of pastries in front of Grant. “Gabby sent these as a thank-you for the business we’ve been bringing her, and Kimberly made it abundantly clear that they need to disappear,” she instructed. “Something about fitting into that wedding gown next week.”
“Let’s send a few home with him,” Emily suggested. “Leave a couple for Amy, but if we send them with Grant, the twins will be beside themselves, and Tillie and Percy will love us forever.”
“Percy’s got a sweet tooth, for certain, but—”
Emily stepped closer, reaching one hand up, over his mouth. She slid her gaze toward the living room, then raised one brow. “Taking them will be an act of kindness, Grant. There’s a bride in the next room,” she whispered. “Save her from herself, and just take the pastries. Okay?”
His eyes met hers, and this time they didn’t stray. They lingered and twinkled as if he liked looking into her eyes. “Okay.”
Her heart fluttered. She moved her hand away from his face, but couldn’t draw her eyes from his.
“I’ll just put these on a double paper plate, Grant.” Rory’s movement broke the moment, and maybe Emily was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t even a moment.
But when she walked Grant to the door, he turned and held her gaze once more. Then he reached out and took her hand while raising the plate of treats. “The family will love these. Thank you.”
He squeezed her hand lightly and smiled.
Gone was the defensiveness she’d seen last week. In its place was an easy grin. She smiled back, and when he released her hand, her fingers felt downright cold and lonely as she closed the door.
She couldn’t get involved, she knew that, but for that brief moment, getting involved felt like an absolutely wonderful thing to do.
Chapter Four (#ulink_891d7af3-b42b-5143-82f1-7efcb1cc6eb2)
He shared the pastries with Tillie and Percy when he got home. The twins were in bed, and all was well.
It actually wasn’t well, but Grant didn’t know that until he went to check on the toddlers. Timmy had climbed out of bed and was sleeping on the floor of his room. Grant opened the door, bumped it into the sleeping boy and pinched his little fingers between the door and the floor.
The toddler woke with a start, shrieking in surprise and pain.
Dolly woke up in the adjacent room, not because she was in pain, but because Timmy was upset. She burst into tears of sympathy, or possibly envy because now Timmy was in Grant’s arms, garnering all the attention.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Timmers.” He kissed the boy’s hand, put ice on the fingers, then kissed it again when Timmy slapped the cold compress aside. “Daddy didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry.”
Timmy hiccupped and sobbed against his chest, but fell back asleep in quick minutes.
Not Dolly. Now that she was awake, her sixty-minute catnap offered a new lease on life. He rocked her, read to her, played with her and finally—with the clock edging toward midnight—got her back into her crib.
He crawled into bed shortly thereafter, only to have his phone alert wake him at two forty-five. He pried his eyes open, scanned the report and dispatched five truck drivers to salt the highways before people woke up and discovered nearly a quarter inch of freezing rain had fallen between midnight and two o’clock.
He couldn’t sleep with workers dispatched. He sat down at his laptop and prepared to get some work done.
No internet.
He sank back into the chair, ready to punch something.
How was he supposed to do it all? How was he supposed to manage everything? His mother had worked full-time cleaning patient rooms at the local hospital, then she’d spent Saturdays housecleaning for two local families, earning just enough to make ends meet. And she hadn’t gone ballistic or berserk or anything else. She’d just done it.
Why couldn’t he manage that well? It wasn’t rocket science; it was running a house. Caring for kids. Keeping a job. Despite his best efforts, he seemed to mess up more than most.
He laid his head against the chair back, wishing he was a better father. A better brother. A better son.
The next thing he knew, Tim was at his feet. “Daddy! Up pees, Daddy! Up, pees!”
“Hey, you’re up and out of your bed again, my man. You don’t smell that great.” He bumped foreheads with the little guy. “Good morning.”
“Mornin’!” Timmy gave him an ear-to-ear grin and patted his face. “I have toast, ’kay?”
“It’s very okay. High chair or big boy chair?”
Timmy patted his chest, kind of like Tarzan. “Big boy!”
“Don’t run around with your toast, okay?”
“Don’t run, don’t run, don’t run!” He shook his finger in a perfect and tiny imitation of Aunt Tillie.
“Now if you’d only follow your own directions,” Grant teased. He heard Dolly screech from upstairs. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get your sister.”
“Dowwy!”
“That would be her.” He brought Dolly down, changed diapers, fed them, bundled them and got out the door on time, but when he got to the end of the driveway, a thin blanket of ice still covered his rural two-lane road. He stared in disbelief, hit his Bluetooth connection and called the office. “Jeannie, I’ve still got ice on the road. What’s going on?”
“Boss, no one got dispatched until Hank got here at five a.m. to open the service bays. Did you do a callout?”
“Yes, at two forty-five. I sent word to all five guys.” He paused and scanned his phone, and there it was, an alert that said his message hadn’t been sent. And he’d fallen asleep without checking.
“Jeannie, my bad. The message is here, but never got delivered. Is everyone on the road now?”
“Yes, but you’ve got messages from the mayor, the police chief and the county sheriff’s office wondering what happened.”
Shame bit deep.
He never goofed up a job. He double-checked everything to the point of being absurd, but this time he’d messed up. He didn’t want to ask this next question, but he had to and the onus was all on him. “Any accidents?”
“None reported.”
He breathed a sigh of relief.
“Hank called the guys in stat and they hit the road by five thirty, just enough time for most everything to melt before things got too busy.”
Dolly squawked at the inactivity. To Dolly, being in the car meant the car should be moving. Sitting at the edge of the road didn’t win the toddler’s favor. “I’ll drop the kids off and be right there.”
“See you then, boss.”
Guilt grabbed hold tight.
He’d created a dangerous situation today. People could have been hurt, and all because he was tired and dozed off without following up.
Nothing happened, and you’ll know better next time. Everyone makes mistakes, Grant.
His mother’s words came back to him, but Grant hated mistakes. He took pride in his work, and in the work of his people.
He called the sheriff, the mayor and saved Drew Slade for last. “Drew, it’s Grant. I’m calling to apologize. My dispatch never got sent and I didn’t realize it. This is totally on me.”
“I blame the napoleons,” Drew replied. “And wedding planning. And staying up too late talking to pretty girls. I appreciate the call. We’re good. But you got home early comparatively, whereas I actually was up late, talking to a pretty girl.”
Grant peeked into the rearview mirror. Dolly was rolling something around between her fingers, and appeared fascinated by it. He didn’t need to know the object’s origin; he was just glad to have her quiet for the moment. “Me, too. Mine is two years old with uneven pigtails.”
“I remember those days,” Drew sympathized. “I raised Amy on my own for eight years, so I hear you. It’s tough, and you’ve got twice the workload and they’re at a crazy age. It’ll get better in about two years, but that’s faint comfort now.”
It sure was, because how was Grant going to manage those two years if he could barely manage today? He circled around the white clapboard church on Maple and pulled into the day care parking lot. “Gotta go.”
“Me, too.”
He removed Dolly from her seat first because Tim had the patience to wait the extra thirty seconds. When he set Dolly down to unfasten a stubborn buckle on Tim’s seat, she yelled in anger and stomped her feet.
He stared at her.
She stomped them again, one after the other, angry and demanding.
Dolly’s repeated action brought Emily’s words to life. Walking’s always good.
If Dolly could stomp her feet back and forth, then she could walk. That made him look at her more carefully.
He scooped Dolly up and took Timmy’s hand, to guide him up the walk. Mrs. Flanagan was waiting for them inside the door. She gave the kids a warm greeting, then settled Dolly on her hip. Grant kissed her goodbye. She flailed and yelled, reaching for him, sobbing...
“Remember what I said.” Mary offered him a wise look. “She’s fine five minutes after you walk out that door. Sometimes less than that, Grant.”
He’d always doubted that before, figuring it was Mary’s way of trying to ease the separation.
But right now, he had a deeper confidence that Mary was truly right.
His beautiful, charming and challenged daughter was a brat.
Now what was he going to do about it?
* * *
Emily spotted Grant inside the bakery, talking to Gabby and her daughter Rachel. Rachel burst out laughing at something Grant said, and when she did, she laid her hand on his sleeve...
Emily had the sudden urge to march across that room and push that hand away from Grant’s water-resistant jacket.
She didn’t, of course, but she wanted to, which meant the tall, brown-haired, hassled single father had gotten beneath her defenses. Based on her instantaneous reaction, she needed more than a mental list to keep the attraction at bay. She’d write a physical list that evening and post it on her mirror so she’d have a firm visual of why she should shy away from tall, handsome, rugged guys who had issues with her past.
“Emily.” Gabby waved her in, excited, and Rachel met her halfway.
“We’ve got some amazing things for you guys to taste, Em. And I am all over that coat!” Rachel admired the waist-length bolero-style jacket with a sigh. “I can’t afford it, but I’m more than slightly envious.”
“It’s a leftover from my buyer days,” Emily told her, then slipped the short coat off and handed it over. “Try it—see what you think.”
Rachel looked mortified. “No, I couldn’t, I shouldn’t have said anything. Mom will kill me for embarrassing her. And myself,” she admitted, sheepishly.
“Rach, the one thing I walked away from Barrister’s with was way too many clothes, and it’s silly not to share. We’re the same size. You should come over tomorrow and go through my closets. Noon, my house, bring doughnuts.”
Gabby cleared her throat, which meant they should get busy, and she was right. Emily reached out to shake Grant’s hand. “Hey, you got here early. The lure of cake, right? It does that to me all the time.”
* * *
He’d like to say it was just the sweets that brought him to Gabby’s ten minutes before their meeting time, but he’d be lying. He shook her hand, smiled and found himself in a fine mess because now that he had her hand, he really didn’t want to let go.
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