“Shane.” Laurel stepped between the two men. “You can’t keep everyone in the dark the way Grandpa Harlan did.”
“Hear, hear.” Zeke applauded.
Shane frowned at each of them in turn. “Let me handle this my way.”
“No.” Laurel put her hands on her hips, her tone as fiery as her hair. “As part owner of this town, I demand to know what you’re up to.”
“Start with telling everyone who you met with today,” Zeke clarified, proving he’d witnessed Shane with someone. Not surprising since his regular spot in the common room put him on the south side of Shane’s Hummer, opposite the diner. “Or I will. He had a big sign painted on his truck door.”
Shane’s chin came up. “Stay out of this, cowboy.”
Just when Mitch was ready to jump back in the fray, Laurel beat him to it. “I call in my favor, Shane.”
What?
“Laurel.” Shane’s frown deepened.
Mitch’s temples pounded. “Am I such a big threat to you? Are you afraid I might throw a wrench in your plans?”
“Stop. Both of you.” Laurel held up a hand. “You promised me a favor, Shane. Don’t break your word and upset my babies.”
“Babies?” Sophie and her twins practically tumbled into the room from the stairs. “Oh, my gosh. Aunt Laurel is having twins, boys!” She and her kids ran over to surround Laurel. “Wait until Ashley hears about this.”
“Hang on, Sophie.” Laurel gently disentangled herself from the group hug. “I’m trying to claim my favor from Shane.”
“Don’t waste your favor on him,” Shane cautioned, pointing at Mitch. “Kincaid won’t believe a word I say.”
Mitch smirked. He was right about that.
“But I’ll believe you,” Laurel said firmly, taking hold of Mitch’s hand.
Righting her red glasses, Sophie noticed the hand-holding and grinned from ear to ear.
“I’m so glad I didn’t leave.” Zeke leaned forward in his wheelchair. “The acoustics are horrible in my room.”
Shane jabbed a thumb in the cowboy’s direction. “Does he have to hear, too?”
“Yes,” said Mitch.
“Yes,” said Laurel.
“Heck, yeah,” said Zeke.
The twins giggled, hopping around like bunnies on a warm spring day.
Shane rubbed his forehead and looked to his sister.
“I’ll go with the crowd and say yes.” Sophie hadn’t stop grinning. “Not that I have any idea what’s going on.”
“Unbelievable.” Shane shook his head. “There’s a reason good managers hold their cards close to their chest. Too many cooks spoil the soup.”
“Dish out your soup, brother dear.” Sophie lifted one of her boys to her hip. “Without any more mixed metaphors.”
Sophie’s other son, the one with the cowlick, lifted his hands, requesting to be picked up, too. Laurel picked him up instead, releasing Mitch’s hand to do so.
Immediately, Mitch’s hand felt empty.
I’m going to miss her when she leaves.
Mitch pressed his palm to his thigh, holding on to Laurel’s warmth and support, hoping she had someone to lean on when her twins arrived.
“Is Uncle Shane in trouble?” asked the boy in Sophie’s arms. Mitch thought he might be Andrew.
“Not if he tells the truth.” Sophie gave her brother a significant look. “Because that’s what good boys and responsible adults do.”
Both boys stared at their uncle expectantly.
“Okay, okay.” Shane gave in. “I hired a real estate consultant. That’s my big secret. Are you happy?”
Unhappy, Mitch groaned. “Does this mean you’re selling?”
“I’m one vote in twelve, Kincaid.” Shane smirked. “I can’t answer that question.”
Mitch kept forgetting about that. To him, Shane was the face of his predicament. More Monroes? He gritted his teeth.
“So what’s this consultant for if not to sell the town?” Zeke’s normally good-natured smile had vanished.
Shane spared his sister a pained look before answering. “This guy specializes in evaluating small towns like Second Chance with the purpose of making recommendations for investors and—”
“Investors?” Zeke groaned. “Now I’m not happy. Next thing you know, there’ll be a big-box store selling cases of toilet paper where the church used to be.”
“You didn’t let me finish.” Shane stared at Sophie. “You see what happens when you relinquish control? No one lets you finish.”
Mitch’s temples felt like they were being battered with hockey pucks. “Do you have more to say?”
“Yes!” Shane shouted, bringing Gabby from the apartment and making his nephews cover their ears. “He’s not a listing agent. He presents alternatives based on the town’s character, its resources, its potential to be something more or to remain something...”
“Less,” Mitch finished for him. “You were going to say less. I take offense to that.”
“I was going to say more. As in, more charming.” Shane pushed his dark, wavy hair off his forehead. “If I could just finish.”
“Let’s hear him out.” Laurel snuggled her nephew closer in her arms and glanced up at Mitch.
It was on the tip of Mitch’s tongue to say no, that he’d heard enough bad news for one day, but there were her big blue eyes and—
Shane continued, “What you all seem to forget is that we’re in this together. I can’t speak for my siblings or my cousins, but I have no desire to evict people and no desire to tear down the town where my grandfather was born. What if I destroy the cabin he grew up in?” Shane ran one hand around the back of his neck. “I take offense to the town’s attitude toward me. I’m not the enemy.”
“He’s not,” the boy in Laurel’s arms said. “He’s Uncle Shane and we love him.”
“That’s right,” seconded the boy in Sophie’s arms.
In the ensuing silence, Mitch sank to the hearth seat, not knowing what to believe.
“This is a surprising change of events,” Zeke said, looking as shell-shocked as Mitch felt. “Is Shane a good guy now? Black hat exchanged for white?”
“Save us the cowboy humor,” Shane grumbled, his face still flushed.
Laurel set the boy she held on the floor and then hugged her cousin. She was always the first Monroe to try to mend fences.
“What’s that for?” Shane held himself stiffly.
Laurel patted his shoulder. “Because you surprised me and I’m proud of you.”
“I’m just trying to do what’s right without everyone getting in my way.” Shane pointed at Mitch. “In the hospitality industry that’s called efficiency. And yes, I could run this inn all by myself, and the town, too.”
“If he could just learn to shut up and quit while he’s ahead.” Zeke tsk-tsked, earning another frown from Shane.
But the cowboy’s words unlocked one of Mitch’s memories.
“You lawyers...” Harlan Monroe had shifted in his chair on the back deck of the inn and grinned. “You try to be so clinical, pretending you have no heart. But good lawyers are good because they care, they risk, they hurt.” He gestured with his beer bottle to Mitch. “Which case got to you?”
Mitch had sat silent, clutching his beer bottle as if it were the lock on his past.
“That many, huh?” Harlan sobered. “Well, I suppose being taciturn keeps all that disappointment inside. Unlike my grandson Shane. Now, he’s a man who doesn’t know when to shut up. The gift of gab makes him darn good working with people, though. Darn good. If you can stomach all those words.”
Mitch got back to his feet. “I’ll take that bet, Shane.”
“To run the inn?” Shane laughed.
“To run the town.” Mitch felt a smile coming on. This man had the power to change th
e town for the better or to destroy it. His opinion mattered to the rest of the Monroes or they wouldn’t have put him in charge. “You can be an honorary town councilman, like your grandfather was.”
There was a moment of silence as that knowledge sank in.
“Like my grandfather was,” Shane echoed. “If I do this, will you trust me to make the right recommendations for the town’s future?”
No one spoke.
Everyone waited for Mitch’s response, including Gabby.
“If your actions prove to be sincere, then yes,” Mitch said, for both Shane’s benefit and his daughter’s. “I’ll trust you.” His gaze drifted to Laurel’s.
Her eyes were shining with approval.
Selfishly, he wanted her to stay. Despite her grandfather’s wishes. Despite her dreams. Despite her need to watch over her twin sister.
Because when Laurel had his back, Mitch could face anything.
But now he wondered...
Who watched out for Laurel?
* * *
“HERE GOES NOTHING.” After helping broker a truce between Mitch and Shane, Laurel knew it was time to make things right with her family.
With her door closed and the do-not-disturb sign hanging on the doorknob, Laurel sent a video chat request to her mother and sister.
On the bed next to her, Sophie squeezed her hand. “I’ll be right here.”
“Mom. Ashley.” They showed up in the same frame on her mother’s line, white kitchen cabinets in the background. Laurel swallowed thickly and tried to keep a smile on her face.
I’m pregnant. Joy, I should be feeling joy.
Laurel held the phone in front of her face. “I...have some...wonderful news.”
Gah! She sounded like a caught fish gasping on a dry dock.
“Are you coming home tomorrow?” Ashley’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. She looked hopefully fragile as if she’d been on the receiving end of their mother’s sharp comments once too often recently.
“You’re coming home?” Mom moved in front of Ashley. “That’s wonderful news. We have so much to do.”
“Mom. Listen.” Laurel’s mouth was drier than Palm Springs in August. “I’m—”
“I can’t think of anything better than having you home,” Mom said in her I’m-so-sweet voice.
“I can,” Sophie murmured, elbowing Laurel.
Mom kept on talking, a trait Dad once confessed had led to their divorce. “Let me tell you what I’ve worked out regarding our pink dress.”
Our pink dress? Even the babies shuddered.
Laurel pressed on. “Can I share my news first?”
Mom talked over her. “There’s a New York designer interested in buying our fashion line.”
“She’s talking about your dress,” Sophie fumed, losing whisper volume. “Give me that phone.”
Laurel stood, facing Sophie so her mother and sister couldn’t see she wasn’t alone. “But—”
“Hear me out,” Mom said, irritation rounding her vowels. “There’s good money in it for you, too.”
“Too?” Sophie pushed her glasses higher. “How much of your dress is your money?” Clearly, Shane wasn’t the only one with business sense in that branch of the family.
“This designer wants an entire line of red-carpet gowns.” Mom’s smile was brittle, but then again it often was. “Ten. Twelve. More if possible. We’ve discovered a new revenue stream.”
Sell, sell, sell, Laurel’s worried, single-parent brain chanted. Raising kids took money and she was unemployed, living off her savings.
“Don’t you dare agree,” Sophie said, coming to her feet and reaching for the phone.
Laurel backed away. That number of dresses meant serious money. And being a red-carpet fashion designer was her dream. “Who’s interested?”
Mom walked through her living room, leaving Ashley behind. “Xuri Wu.” She gushed as if she’d designed the pink dress. “She is so avant-garde.”
Xuri Wu wants to work with me?
Laurel gulped. Xuri designed cutting-edge fashion. That was heady, impossible, dream-come-true stuff.
“She’s dominating the red carpet, Laurel.” Mom’s excitement came through her voice with more clarity than her suddenly blurring image on the small screen as she passed by a bright window.
“I know that.” But a reality check was sinking in.
Xuri used bold floral designs and sharp lines. Her style was everything Laurel’s wasn’t. Xuri was worldly, confident, risk taking. Xuri Wu would laugh if she knew Laurel was knitting.
Laurel had been silent too long.
Mom sensed an opportunity to close the deal. “So you’ll do it?”
“No!” Sophie whispered, shaking her head so vehemently her red glasses slid down her nose.
Laurel frowned. Torn. Mitch said her children should come first.
Not at the expense of who you are.
“I need to think about it.” Laurel glanced at the coppery scarf she’d begun knitting with chunky needles. It was hard to believe someone wanted her to design for their fashion house when Odette had rejected her knitting endeavors.
“At least ask to see the contract.” Sophie flopped back on the bed.
Smart. “And I need to see the contract,” Laurel added, practically slurring her words together in her haste to get them out.
“Contracts are my area of expertise.” Mom morphed into The Momager. “We can’t put them off much longer because of your Idaho hiatus. Don’t be an artiste when you haven’t got anything to back you up.”
“I have the dress,” Laurel said meekly, adding in a mumbled, “and some partially completed scarves.” Speaking of which, here was the perfect bridge to the reason for her call. “By the way, Mom, I’m—”
“And what about Wyatt?” Mom switched gears faster than a race-car driver. “Ashley can’t go out with him a second time. We have no idea what you two talked about on that first date. You have to come back and do it.”
Oh, what a disaster.
“There will be no second date with Wyatt.” Laurel placed a hand on her belly. “Dump him. Tell him there was no chemistry. Tell him—”
“That’s not for you to decide.” There was no sweetness from her mother anymore. “Get on the next plane. Ashley needs press. Since your father terminated her contract on that film, we need to rebuild.”
“I’m not giving up my dress to you. I’m not dating Wyatt Halford. And I’m not coming home tomorrow because—”
“I can’t talk to you like this.” Mom broke the connection.
“—I’m pregnant!”
But her mother hadn’t heard.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“SOPHIE, LET’S GO find your da Vinci. The babies and I need fresh air.” Door open, Laurel sat on her bed, lacing her snow boots. She called to Sophie down the hall.
She needed to stretch her legs. Mitch might have paced downstairs last night, but Laurel had tossed and turned until she’d given up and knit while Mitch got his steps in. She couldn’t shake the gut-punching feeling that she was letting Ashley down. But what could she do differently? Neither her mother nor Ashley were answering their phones, which was no more than Laurel deserved after two weeks of her own cellular silence.
I should go home and face them.
Regret squeezed her heart. She didn’t want to leave the peace of Second Chance for what was sure to be a media circus in Hollywood.
Thunderous small feet ran down the hallway. Laurel stood, bracing herself for impact, but the twins raced past her room.
“Bye, Aunt Laurel!” They crashed into a wall at the other end of the hall soon after, giggling and pounding on wood. “Wake up, Uncle Shane! Wake up! Wake up!” Their voices were so similar, Laurel couldn’t distinguish one from the other. “Open up, Uncle Shane! We love you!”
“I’m gonna milk this for all it’s worth.” Sophie stood in the doorway and grinned. “A full day without my boys. What a gift!”
A door unlatched.
“Look!” Shane cried. “It’s my most excellent nephews! Let’s go find some trouble.”
Sophie’s eyes widened. She stepped into the hall. “Not too much trouble, Shane.”
“There’s never too much trouble.” Shane laughed, but it sounded more like a villainous cackle. “Come on, boys. Show me how you hop like a bunny down these stairs.”
Laurel wrapped the teal scarf she’d made around her neck multiple times. She’d gotten a little carried away with the length.
“Maybe long scarves will be a trend this year.” Sophie pushed her glasses back into position. “Like overly long sleeves used to be.”
“Unlikely.” Laurel grabbed her coat and a grin. Her situation hadn’t improved since yesterday, but she still had her babies and her joy. “But I like it.”
They went downstairs. Shane was leaning against a wall, drinking a cup of coffee while the twins tumbled in circles around Zeke’s wheelchair, deftly avoiding his propped-up broken leg.
“I’m under siege. Cannonballs everywhere.” Zeke’s smile seemed to grow when he looked at Sophie, who pretended not to notice.
And wasn’t that interesting...
Shane’s phone buzzed. He checked the display and chuckled. “Here’s a question from Cousin Holden. He’s asking when Laurel is returning to California for Aunt Gee.”
“My mom called Holden?” Anger flushed Laurel’s veins. “And he texted you?”
“You know how much your mother loves Cousin Holden.” Shane shrugged. “What do you want me to say?”
Laurel hesitated, feeling as brittle as an overcooked cookie, on the brink of crumbling.
“You should follow your heart,” Sophie said sagely, looking at her boys with love in her eyes. “And if you aren’t sure which direction that is, you should stay here.”
“Think of your future,” Shane said with a rare dose of seriousness. “Go home and take care of those babies. Aunt Gee will come around. I can decide what to do with this town.”
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