Or not. “I don’t think so.”
“Most of the other men you know, or you know the families.”
Curiosity got her. “Who’s the policeman?” Lydia Servetti was a horrible liar. She coughed into her hand, shrugged, and became entranced with a splotch of marinara on the side of her plate. “Mom? Who’s the policeman?”
“A good catch, that’s who.”
There was only one “good catch” in the police department and he’d already been caught—by her cousin, Gina. “You aren’t talking about Ben Reed, are you?”
Another cough and then a mumbled, “Maybe.”
“Mom! He’s married to Gina.”
“So?” Her dark eyes flashed, her mouth pinched. “I am well aware of that. They have a baby, too, and another on the way. Don’t think my sister doesn’t take every opportunity to tell me about it. ‘Alexander is the most handsome baby there ever was.’ On and on she goes, yakking in my ear until I have to tell her someone’s at the door and I have to go. I don’t know what I ever did to not be blessed with a grandchild, but you and your brothers don’t seem to care that your father and I aren’t getting any younger and sooner rather than later, we’ll breathe our last breath.” Sniff, sniff, and a tear. “Your brothers never did listen to me, but you won’t disappoint me, will you? You’ll find a husband and have a baby so I don’t have to hear your aunt blab about precious and handsome anymore. Just wait until she sees your baby.” She sighed, leaned back in her chair, and rested her hands on her round belly. “Model beautiful, just like her mother, that’s what she’ll be. If it’s a boy, he’ll be so handsome, people will stop to stare at him.” She slid a glance at Natalie, said, “Of course, they’ll be staring at you, too, because they always have.”
And they were right back to looks and competing with Aunt Marie, her mother’s younger sister. The two sisters had married the Servetti brothers and had been in competition ever since. Ernest and Lydia had been ahead of Carmen and Marie in number of children and, of course, the widespread knowledge that Natalie was more beautiful and desirable than their only daughter, Gina. Uncle Carmen and Aunt Marie battled that last comment by trying to make Gina more like Natalie but that was never going to happen, and somewhere along the way, Gina had become the more beautiful, desirable one. She’d found a husband who adored her and now she had a baby boy and another child on the way. Gina had everything and Natalie’s parents, especially her mother, would not rest until their daughter was back in the number one position, probably by way of marriage and a few babies.
What did Natalie care about a race and winning a popularity contest run by her parents? She only wanted a life with Robert, a family she could share with him. “I’m happy for Gina and Ben, and I wish you could be, too.” She gentled her voice, met her mother’s gaze. “There’s someone for everyone. Don’t give up on me. I’ll find my special someone.”
Her mother snorted. “Where? At the salon? Is he going to come in for a facial or a manicure?” She laughed, the laugh turned to a cackle. “I don’t think so. You have to consider your options and your opportunities before you get too old.” Her voice turned sharp, pierced Natalie’s brain. “Someone has to take care of you because the Lord knows you’ll never make enough to take care of yourself.”
And that meant Natalie couldn’t take care of her parents—as expected. “Why do you say that? I’ve actually got an idea for a business and if it takes off, it could be great.” She and Robert talked of Natalie opening a salon with him cosigning a loan for her. He said there was always more risk when you owned your own company, but the reward was huge.
The laugh that slid across the table and grabbed Natalie was loud and cruel. “You always were a dreamer. Let’s get back to this list. The sooner we find someone for you, the sooner your father and I won’t have to worry about being thrown out in the streets or stuck in some old folks’ home when we can’t take care of ourselves.” She reached across the table, patted Natalie’s hand, and said, “You’re a good daughter and you’ll do the right thing.” A pinched smile and a hand squeeze followed. “I know you will.”
5
“Baby Girl, tell me what’s wrong.”
Rex MacGregor hefted himself into the chair across from Bree’s desk—the desk that used to be his, in the office that used to be his, at the company that was still his but would one day be hers. Not that he’d come right out and said it, but when the owner of a business had one child and that child worked in a high-level position in the company, didn’t it go without saying who would own it at some point? Maybe not tomorrow or next year, but it was coming, and Bree wanted to be ready for it. That’s why she’d gone to Chicago: to expand and grow relationships and knowledge. Ahem. She fanned herself, pushed back memories of gray eyes and dimples, a tanned, toned body, and way too much class. Oh, she’d “expanded” a relationship—right into bed with a stranger. And the only knowledge she’d gained was that she was a fool and a careless one at that.
“Bree?”
She looked up, forced a smile. “Huh? Oh. Nothing’s wrong, Daddy. I’m just preoccupied is all. Lots to think about with the new cabinet line we’re introducing. I’m waiting on the catalog mockup so I can give it a final look; make sure we didn’t forget anything. Funny, how I’m getting really good at picking out tiny details I never saw before.” That made her father smile, a big, wide smile that said he was pleased. His next words told her as much.
“I’m real proud of you, Bree. What with the way you handled this business considering these past few years.” He paused, stumbled over the rest of his words. “But you pushed on and you’ve done your mother and me proud.”
“Thank you, Daddy.” He rubbed his jaw like he did when he had something on his mind that didn’t set well, and he had to talk about it. Her father liked her mother to handle the uncomfortable conversations; he preferred to be in charge of the fun stuff, the rewards and smile-makers. But Mama hadn’t let him get away with that for very long before she put a stop to it and forced him to share in what she called “frown-makers,” too. So what was it that had her daddy looking so jittery? She didn’t think she wanted to know, not if it was more pestering her about Chicago and all she learned there. Huh. If she told him the truth, the frowny-face would cement itself in place and he might boot her from the company, or at least from this office. One mistake was not going to land her in a secretary chair, even if the mistake was a whopper like Adam No-Last-Name.
“Your mother doesn’t want me poking around here, and I promised I wouldn’t pull up a chair and camp out.” The jaw rubbing grew more intense, the frown deepened. “But I worry about you, and I worry about what this business is doing to you.”
“Daddy—”
“Hold on.” He held up a beefy hand, gave her one of his listen-to-me looks. “Let me have my say. Lord knows we can’t get you to sit still long enough to have a conversation, especially one you don’t want to hear.”
She fidgeted in the big chair, wished she had a chocolate éclair right about now to take her mind off the sermon that was coming. If her father knew her current state of agitation had nothing to do with business and everything to do with her bad behavior in Chicago, well, what would he say to that? Bree folded her hands in her lap, sat poker-straight like she’d seen her daddy do in board meetings, and nodded. “Proceed.”
“Proceed, huh?” He leaned forward in the chair that squished his sides and said, “Your mother and I think you need a break.”
“A break?” A break from what?
He sighed, his gaze darting around the room, settling on her seconds before he gave her the blast. “From work. We think it’s too much for you.” He gestured toward her, blew out another sigh. “Up until that trip to Chicago, you looked like a ragamuffin—hair as big and messy as a rat’s nest, no makeup, wrinkled clothing. At least you spruced up for the trip, but now look at you. Back to a ragamuffin with your hair and such. It’s sad to watch. You’ve got no life outside of the kids. No friends anymore either a
nd I know they’ve all been calling you, know you’ve ignored them, too. Didn’t even congratulate Gina on her pregnancy. That girl’s having baby number two and you couldn’t do her a kindness with a phone call?” His eyes teared up, his voice cracked. “Where’s my baby girl? Did you fall in the grave with that bastard husband of yours? Your mama and I thought getting out of town and away from bad memories might help you remember you’re still a young woman with plenty of life to live.” He cleared his throat and his voice got thicker. “But you came back worse than when you left, more withdrawn and agitated, and looking like you just rolled out of bed and don’t care who knows it.”
Bree kept her expression blank. She would not let her father see he’d hit on a few truths. Okay, she’d been horrible about staying in touch with her friends, but who wanted to walk into bursts of sunshine and get so sunburned you’d blister? Gina, Tess, and Christine had found their happiness in the sunshine of their men, in the happily-ever-after-until-I-draw-my-last-breath and that was not something Bree could watch. That pain tore her insides out, scorched them like they were dunked in hot oil. And yes, she’d been a bit behind in her personal care and maybe she’d forgotten to shower a time or two, but at least the men didn’t come sniffing around. Well, a few still did, but they’d go after a skunk. Look what had happened when she’d taken the time to fix her hair, dab a bit of foundation and blush on her face, lip gloss on her mouth, and put on a clean outfit? Adam No-Name had sniffed her out, but truth be told, he hadn’t been the only one sniffing. Oh, gracious, what a mess. Was she doomed to step out of one predicament and right into another, as if she were dodging cow patties in the middle of a field, knowing she’d land in one sooner rather than later?
She licked her lips and spoke in a voice that usually made her daddy go all soft and gooey like his favorite caramel. “I admit, I’ve been a bit distracted, and that is not acceptable. I guess I’ve been hiding because watching all that happiness is just too much.” The words were not contrived nor were the tears that threatened like a garden hose sprouting a leak. “I love the girls, and I love you and Mama, but I don’t know where I belong anymore. The only place that feels like I fit is here.” She waved a hand about the room. “In this chair, running the business, and I’ll do whatever I need to so you’ll feel comfortable with that.” That reassurance should have put the color back in his face, but it didn’t. In fact, her words turned him paler than last night’s chicken breast.
“I’ve hired a consultant,” he blurted out, leaning forward in his chair like he might shoot right out of it. “He’s going to look at the business and find ways to improve it.” He sucked in gulps of air, spat out more information. “You’ll be working with him and I don’t want you to give him a hard time. I mean it, Bree. This is important.”
She stared at her father, tried to digest what he’d just said. “A consultant? Why? We did better last year than the past five.” What was this really about and where had he found a consultant? Unless he was talking about Kenny Robbins, the bookkeeper-turned-CFO, Magdalena had no person with that title.
His gaze darted around the room like a fly looking for a window to escape and eventually landed on her. “A good consultant can make the difference between survival and going belly up.”
“Daddy? Why are you talking like we’re in trouble?” Did he know something she didn’t? How could that be possible when she looked at the books every single day and nothing indicated a problem or concern? They could always be better, work harder and smarter, but a consultant? They weren’t cheap.
Her daddy pinned her with his this-is-business look. “I’m doing it for you, Bree.” His voice cracked. “Remember, no matter how much you might not like it, I’m doing this because I love you.”
Oh, she did not like the sound of that. “May I ask when you decided all of this and why I was not informed of the plan?”
The former paleness of his face turned red, redder still. “It’s been in the works for some time, but your mama and me didn’t want to tell you just yet.”
“Mama knew?” Her gaze narrowed on him, tried to ferret out white lies that might be stuck to the truth. All she saw was a bucket of remorse heaped with determination to see a job done. “Well, isn’t that just dandy. My parents have been keeping secrets from me and thinking nothing of it.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “Here I thought I was involved in the business, but it looks like pillow talk prevails, and I’m just the person who sits in this chair every day.”
“Baby Girl, that’s enough.” Her father pushed out of the chair, made his way toward her, and placed his large hands on the desk. “Your mama’s my sounding board. She sees things I miss and I’m not gonna make excuses for it. One of these days, you’ll find somebody like that and then you’ll know what I mean.” He straightened, said in a gentle voice, “Now I want you to welcome the consultant and show him Magdalena hospitality; you got that?”
Bree crossed her arms over her middle, stared at him. No good trying to change his mind. When Daddy got a notion in his head and Mama backed him, the two were like peanut butter and jelly. Nothing was going to stop them or unstick them. “Fine, but I truly wish you had asked my opinion since I’m the one who has to work with him.” Her father coughed, looked away. That was always code for something, usually a truth she hadn’t heard about yet. “I am going to be the one working with him, aren’t I?”
He gave her a quick dip of his head, not a full-blown agreement but close enough. No way would Mama let Daddy back in the building so he could end up with heart problems again, maybe an ulcer and high blood pressure to boot. Mama said Daddy was done building his empire and needed to pass it off before it buried him. Maybe they’d decided this consultant was the last step toward turning the business over to Bree. She could live with that, indeed she could. “Okay then. I’ll be the one working with him and getting him what he needs.” There were a few areas she wanted to check out before she opened the doors and the books to some stranger, consultant or not. She hoped he wasn’t one of those educated know-it-alls from the city who’d never been in a family diner or visited a bed-and-breakfast. Hah. Would he stay at the Heart Sent? Would he try to mingle with the town? Would he meet Pop Benito? Oh, but she had her share of questions, and she’d get her answers, too…every last one of them. “So, when is this consultant coming?”
Her father worked up a smile that looked pure painful and said, “Tomorrow morning.” Before she could comment, he reached in his shirt pocket, pulled out a folded envelope, and handed it to her. “From your mother and me. It’s a gift certificate to Kit’s Primp and Polish. We thought it might do you good to pamper yourself a bit.” He eyed her hair. “Why don’t you take off the rest of the day, go see if you can’t get your nails done or whatever you women do in those places.”
Bree tapped the gift certificate against her palm. They were trying to keep her quiet so she didn’t throw a hissy fit. As if she would. This was about business and in what world had her Mama and Daddy treated her like the person who ran the company? They didn’t, which told her they didn’t think she ran it, but she would. By the time the consultant finished his work at MacGregor Cabinets, there would be no doubt who ran the company. Bree Lynn Kinkaid, that’s who. She threw her daddy a bright smile, opened the side drawer of her desk, and pulled out her purse. “I think I will take off the rest of the day and get a little pampering.” She rounded the desk, pecked her father on the cheek. “Thank you, Daddy. Tell Mama I’ll be home by dinnertime.”
Bree kept the calmness in her voice until she was inside the SUV with Bon Jovi’s “It’s My Life” blaring. Then she let out a yell that matched the radio. A consultant? A gift certificate to the salon? Could they say loser any louder? Her parents thought she was incompetent, and not only that, they thought she was unkempt. What had Daddy said about her hair and a rat’s nest? She eased out of the parking lot, stroked a section of hair, located a snarl partway down. Okay, maybe she hadn’t done a good brushing job, but a rat’s
nest? Humph. She knew how to look and dress attractive. Hadn’t she done that in Chicago? Oh, yes, and look where that had ended up? In bed, having sex she didn’t remember with a stranger named Adam—a gorgeous, polite, sophisticated stranger who’d left a note in the bathroom saying he’d be back to “talk.” That was an absolute “no thank you” because what did a person say when she’d had sex she couldn’t remember with a man she didn’t know? Would she admit such a thing? Not good for the man’s ego, that was for certain. She blew out a sigh, sang a few notes with Bon Jovi, and pulled into the salon. Mama and Daddy thought her life was in the toilet and she looked a mess? Well, she’d show them that Bree Kinkaid was not a lost cause, and she’d start with a little primping.
Kit’s Primp and Polish could not be called trendy or cutting edge. They still did wash and sets, perms, and old-lady-blue-white dye jobs, but they’d hired three new stylists these past several months, one with red hair and an entire arm of tattoos, another with piercings and a tube’s-worth of eyeliner on her lids, and a third who wore only purple, from head to lips to toe. Those stylists might not look like typical Magdalena residents, but they were sweet girls with talent, and talk was they might be leaving the salon if Kit didn’t let them explore their creative side, whatever that meant. Bree wanted to try them out, but she was a wee bit afraid she’d leave with pink hair and spikes. Maybe she’d talk to one of them, see what she might do with her “rat’s nest,” as Daddy called it. She turned off the ignition, grabbed her purse, and opened the SUV door. But today, she wanted a manicure, and manicures meant she might be unlucky enough to draw Natalie Servetti as the technician.
Bree said a little prayer that the woman was not working. Natalie might have cleaned up her act and her wardrobe, but how could a person forget what she’d done, the people she’d hurt, the lives she’d damaged? For all Bree knew, Brody could have been one of the men she’d slept with… When he slipped the wedding ring on Bree’s finger, she would have sworn on their lives Brody would never, ever hurt her, and certainly not cheat, but look what he’d done? Gone and died in another woman’s bed! Damn that man.
A Family Affair: The Wish: Truth in Lies, Book 9 Page 6