Her Unexpected Family

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “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, a
nd 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 Hav
en, 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.”