by Nan Dixon
Could he chance dumping the garbage down the chute? It was on the opposite side of the house from the kitchen. But Abby was always wandering around.
He’d have to dump at night. Since Abby still refused to talk to him, it would give him something to do.
He should be lining up investors for the Whaler project. He’d hired an appraiser, but he needed to line up the financing.
Maybe his dad would want in on the fun. The Whaler project was big enough for even his father’s eyes to light up. He grinned. Yeah, Gray would ask him to tap his cronies. Then he’d come in and close the deals, making sure he still retained control of the project.
Unlike Ms. Abigail Fitzgerald, he wasn’t too proud to ask for help.
* * *
ABBY PULLED ANOTHER tray of bars from the oven. She’d been getting her baking done in the morning when the temps were a bit cooler. Thank goodness they’d had another storm last night. She’d been able to get both the bride’s and groom’s cakes baked and stored for Saturday’s reception.
And she had to keep busy. If she wasn’t working, she ended up thinking about Gray. Which was like grabbing a hot pan with her bare hand, over and over again.
The condos would be done soon and he’d head back to Boston. Maybe then her heartache would ease.
She swiped at a drip of sweat and checked her to-do list. She needed to keep moving, keep doing.
The door swung open, and Gray walked into the kitchen. His blue eyes searched the room and zeroed in on her.
Her heart reached for him even as she glued her arms to her sides to keep from holding out her hands. “Something you need?”
“Water.” He moved through the kitchen as if he owned it and grabbed a glass from the family cupboard. Then he filled it from the filtered water spigot, drank deeply and filled the glass again.
She watched his throat move as he swallowed. Who would have guessed that watching Gray drink water could turn her body into a puddle?
He set the glass in the dishwasher. “Better.”
Shouldn’t he be at the warehouse? It was only midmorning.
“Something smells good in here. What have you been making?” Gray turned and leaned against the counter. Did he know that his chest muscles strained the fabric of his shirt when he did that?
He frowned. “Abby? Everything all right?”
“Sure.” He’d asked a question. “I baked the wedding cakes for this weekend’s reception. I’ve made bars and cookies to cover a month of teatimes.” She shrugged. “I like getting the baking done while it’s cool.”
“Doesn’t feel cool to me.”
“Yankee.” She tried to smile and couldn’t.
“Anything I can do to help?” He stepped closer.
Even though the counter separated them, she caught the scent of Gray’s cologne and the pure essence that was only his.
“Help?” She didn’t want him in the kitchen, much less helping her out. Then she noticed his hair. “You’re filthy.”
“I can wash pots.” He moved a little closer. “I’ve done that before.”
Their first kiss. That couldn’t happen again.
“Wait. I thought you’d finished all the condo demolition?” she asked.
He shifted, looked at the floor. “Just a little side project I’m working on.”
Carleton House. Goosebumps formed on Abby’s arms even in the heat of the kitchen. He was already pulling things apart over there and he didn’t even own the building.
“I’m good, thanks.” She moved to the fridge. She’d make lavender cakes. Keep her hands busy and her mind off Gray.
“I’ve got to go back to Boston tomorrow.”
She turned back to him, her movements slow. This was what she wanted. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“I’ll only be gone until Thursday.” He touched her cheek, and heat burst through her body. “I’ll miss you.”
She froze.
“You’re wrong about me, Abby.” He brushed a kiss on her cheek. “I don’t hide behind my money.”
She should move. Should turn away from his stare. Should push him away.
Her body refused.
Gray leaned in once more and brushed her lips with his. “I need to get back to work.”
After he left, Abby slumped against the wall. What was wrong with her? She had to be strong enough to break away. Had to be.
Gray could destroy her more than her lying, cheating ex-fiancé ever had.
* * *
ON FRIDAY, ABBY ran a finger along the mantel in the ballroom.
“The staff will clean this afternoon,” Marion said as she slid a table a couple of inches to the left.
“I don’t understand why it’s so dusty.” Abby shook her head. “Samuel hasn’t worked for almost two weeks.”
“The dust’s settlin’, that’s all.” Marion was frowning, too. “This is good dust.”
“Good dust?”
“It means you’re expanding.” Marion patted her shoulder. “I’ll add another cleaner tomorrow, just in case. Cheryl, if she’s up to it.”
“Don’t push her.” Cheryl had seemed fine, more animated in the past week. Maybe she was finally sleeping.
Abby wished she could rest. All she did was toss and turn and think about Gray. He’d gotten back from Boston last night, too late for dinner. At least he’d called to say his meetings had run long. The only reason she’d cared was she needed to know whether to make him dinner. And which sister to call so she and Gray were never alone.
He’d told her again that she was wrong about him.
She looked around the room one more time. “Make sure they check the bathrooms, especially the men’s. Samuel’s subs sometimes use them.”
“Already on my list.” Marion headed out of the room.
The scent of perfume hit Abby first. White Diamonds.
“Mamma,” she whispered.
She heard heels clicking across the wooden floor, but before she could turn around, familiar arms enveloped her. “Mamma, you’re early. I thought you wouldn’t be here until tonight. What a treat.”
She sank into her mother’s embrace. For a few moments, she didn’t have to make a decision, or worry about cash flow or grieve her losses—Gray, Carleton House, her restaurant... She could just be Mamie Fitzgerald’s daughter.
“I hurried home.” Her mother held her at arm’s length and then hugged her one more time. “Couldn’t wait to see my girls.” Her mother’s cool fingers stroked her cheek. Her eyebrows knit together. “You’re tired.”
“Oh, well you know. The heat,” she lied. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
“Abigail.” Her mother cupped her chin and stared into her eyes. “I know you and Gray aren’t seeing each other anymore.”
Abby nodded. Her shoulders slumped.
Mamma hugged her. “I’m sorry.”
Abby waved off her sympathy. “I knew it would never work.”
“That doesn’t make the pain any easier.”
“Working helps. Catering is busy.” Abby took a deep breath. “If I can’t open my restaurant, at least I’m cooking.”
“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry I can’t relieve the burdens I’ve left you holding.”
“Don’t ever feel that way,” Abby assured her. “Aunt CeCe needs you. Family comes first.”
Her mother hugged her tight. “I wish you’d grown up with a better example of love.”
“You loved us.”
“Your papa did, too.” Mamie touched Abby’s cheek. “He just...always took the easy path. I wish I’d been able to stop his scheming. Then you wouldn’t have to work so hard.”
Her mother had dealt with so much more pain than Abby was going through. She could survive her current heartbreak. “Yo
u taught us how to persevere.”
“You make me burst with pride.” Mamie touched a hand to her heart. “Of course, you know what will make your dreams become reality?”
Together they said, “Hard work.”
Abby had heard that phrase all her life. “You’re right.”
No one had worked harder than the woman standing in front of her. How could Abby do less? “How is Aunt CeCe?”
“Good. Better.” Mamma’s eyes sparkled. “Did you get her email?”
“Yes.” Abby frowned. “But I thought she had trouble typing with her fingers.”
“She does, but she just got voice recognition software. She’s having a blast.”
“Dolley promised to send her a ton of pictures,” Abby grinned. “That should keep her busy.”
Her mother looked around the room. “The ballroom looks great.” Mamma did a perfect pirouette, in heels. “Come on, join me!”
Abby grinned, kicked off her shoes and came into fourth position. “I haven’t done these for ages.”
They spun, trying to outdo each other with double and triple pirouettes. Their laughter filled the room. Dizzy, they collapsed to the floor.
“I always loved to dance in here.” Mamma patted Abby’s knee. “Looks like there’s an event this weekend.”
“Wedding reception. They want appetizers with the champagne reception, full dinner—three courses plus the wedding cakes. Free bar all night long.” She hugged herself. “One hundred and thirty head count.”
“If you need a hand, I’ve got two.” Her mother held up her hands.
“You know we can always use extra hands, but you don’t have to work. It’s your vacation.”
“Piffle. I want to work with my girls. What would you like me to do?”
They linked arms and walked out of the room.
“I need to work on the reception prep,” Abby admitted. “But our guests would love having you host teatime and wine tasting.”
Her mother’s laughter wrapped her in love. “You bet I will, honey. Let me at the tea trolley. And don’t forget to include the famous wine and appetizer cards.”
They worked together in the kitchen. As the day progressed, first Bess and then Dolley joined them.
Abby organized stations so her sisters and mother could prep the appetizers. With all this help, they’d already finished the seafood and broccoli-and-ham quiches. Now they were putting together the mushroom, shallot and Gruyère ones. She wished Gray could see. She was accepting help. Lots of it.
“I forgot my camera,” Dolley complained. “I downloaded pictures for the website last night and it’s still connected to my computer.”
“Check my desk.” Abby pulled her apartment keys out of her pocket. “You just want to get out of assembling quiches.”
“What are you working on, Abs?” Bess asked.
“The vegetarian entrée for the wedding is lasagna. It’s also our dinner tonight. I made the sauce this morning.”
The conversation swirled around Abby as she layered ingredients into four lasagna pans. Dolley danced about the room, snapping pictures of their laughing group.
This was her family. All these incredible women and she was one of them. Gathered in her kitchen, the heart of Fitzgerald House, were the reasons she worked so hard—her family.
No more brooding over Gray or a nonexistent restaurant.
* * *
GRAY PAUSED IN the kitchen doorway. Conversation bounced and pinged around the room. The Fitzgerald women had their own language, and he didn’t have an interpreter.
Wafts of Abby’s pasta sauce curled around his nose and tried to wrench him into the room.
Abby and the others formed a fascinating tableau. Colors swirled. Purples, blues, greens, setting off the milky complexion the women shared and their magnificent fire-drenched hair. White teeth flashed as they smiled. When they laughed, green or blue eyes sparkled.
Dolley told some complicated joke, gesturing in her big, bold way. Mamie pulled trays of pastries out of the oven. Abby was elbow deep in sauce and cheese and Bess stuck meat on wooden skewers.
They were a team.
His family had never had the closeness of the Fitzgeralds. Gray couldn’t imagine Courtney pitching in to make his company a success. The image of his sister taking a sledgehammer to a wall wouldn’t materialize. Even cleaning a site would be beneath her. He gave a small shake of his head.
He couldn’t picture his family preparing a meal together—and laughing about it. Adversity had not molded the Smythes. Money had. Could his family pull together if they had to? Did they love each other that much? Gray wasn’t sure he wanted to answer his own question.
Reggie slammed into his legs and then shot into the kitchen.
Gray jerked, bumping into the door frame.
The cat slid on the polished kitchen floor and banged into the cabinet. His yowl had the women looking over to the door.
“Gray,” Abby and Bess called out. Dolley glared and aimed the camera at him. The flash blinded him.
Abby looked over, her smile cool. “Mamma, you remember Gray.”
Mamie spent a quiet minute looking at him, as if he were a juicy worm and she were the early bird.
“It’s good to see you again,” Mamie said.
“Mamma’s hosting the wine tasting. Then we’ll eat,” Abby said. She turned back to her mother. “Gray will join us for dinner.”
Mamie nodded. What had Abby told her mother? What had her sisters said?
“Let’s head on up to the library,” Mamie said.
He offered Mamie his arm.
In the hallway, she glanced over at him, her green eyes blazing. “Tell me why you’ve acquired the Fitzgerald House mortgage and why you’ve broken my daughter’s heart.”
He took a deep breath. “I wanted to help. And it’s the other way around. Abby broke up with me.”
“Do tell,” Mamie said.
He had a feeling he was in for a good old-fashioned Southern belle grilling.
* * *
ABBY HELD UP the pan of lasagna. “Another slice, Gray?”
The women and Gray filled the table in the kitchen alcove. He twitched in his chair. Talk about being a square peg in a round hole.
He indicated a small one. “This is fabulous.” He held up his glass of Chianti. “To the chef and another delightful dinner.”
Everyone raised their glasses. “Hear, hear.”
Abby didn’t even smile. “Thank you.”
His foot brushed hers under the table. His body relaxed at her touch. When had a woman’s nearness ever given him a sense of peace? And why did it have to be a woman who didn’t believe in him?
Abby shifted her foot away.
Mamie glanced at him. Again.
During the wine tasting, she’d listened to his complaints about Abby not accepting any help. She hadn’t said much, just nodded and asked more questions. Maybe she could talk some sense into her daughter.
He nodded at Mamie. “How long are you in town for?”
“A long weekend.” Mamie brushed a curl off Dolley’s forehead. “I get back home every couple of months. Aunt CeCe’s best friend comes to stay with her. My aunt knows I need to see my family.”
Bess squeezed her mother’s hand. “We’re so glad you’re here.”
The sisters asked questions about their aunt, and Gray finished his meal.
“There is one more thing.” Mamie fidgeted in her chair. She looked into her daughters’ eyes in turn. “I’m engaged.”
Dolley jerked out of her slouch, almost knocking the wine bottle off the table. “What? Who?” Bess and Abby seemed too stunned to speak.
Mamie fussed with her napkin, pleating it into a fan before she answered. “Martin. Martin R
obbins.”
Bess’s eyes were as big as a spool of cable. “Who is he?”
Mamie sat a little straighter. “Aunt CeCe’s neighbor. He’s a cardiologist. He’s so very nice.”
She pulled a necklace out of her shirt and detached a ring. She slipped it on her finger. The damn rock could have put someone’s eye out. “I wanted to tell all of you together.”
Abby and her sisters mobbed their mother. An explosion of hugs, tears and sighs over the ring made Gray feel as out of place as a Frank Lloyd Wright house surrounded by skyscrapers.
He squirmed in his chair, tapping his foot on the floor. Something seemed to squeeze in his chest.
Abby beamed, happiness radiating off her in waves for the first time since she’d left Boston.
What was he doing here? He was making Abby’s life miserable. What kind of jerk did that to the woman he loved?
“We need champagne.” Abby brushed his shoulder as she headed to the butler’s pantry.
Gray pushed out of his chair. He kissed Mamie’s cheek. “Congratulations. I’ll leave you to celebrate with your family.”
Abby’s head popped up as she pulled a bottle of champagne from the wine cooler. “Isn’t this exciting?” Even in the dim light, her eyes glittered like jewels. “Mamma’s getting married.”
“Yeah, great.” What else could he say? “This is a family celebration. I’ll head to my room.”
Her smile dimmed. “Oh.”
He couldn’t win. Couldn’t make Abby happy and couldn’t stop hurting her.
He got to his room and changed into his work clothes.
The Fitzgeralds would be celebrating. They wouldn’t hear him working on the third floor.
He could do this for Abby. Help her in secret.
Her happiness meant more to him than his own.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN