A Family Affair: The Wish: Truth in Lies, Book 9

by Campisi, Mary

  “Goodness gracious, will you look who’s here?” Bree sprung out of the booth, hugged both women as though she’d spoken to them yesterday and not months ago. It wouldn’t do to bring Adam into the reasons she’d ignored her friends. He might ask too many questions, ones she did not want to answer, and worse, he’d shoot her a look that said he was awfully disappointed in her behavior. The man didn’t own her and it wasn’t his business. Still, she hated to see that frown and know she was the cause of it. “It’s so good to see you.” Bree pumped excitement into her voice, gestured toward the booth. “I’d like you to meet Adam Brandon. He’s a consultant Daddy brought in from Chicago.” Bree made sure her voice didn’t dip or turn husky when she said his name. These women were too aware when it came to investigation and interpretation of people and situations. “Adam, this is Christine and this is Tess.” She darted a glance toward the corner of the café where Gina sat, studying the menu like it was an exam.

  Adam scooted out of the booth, towered over them. “Nice to meet you, ladies.” He shook their hands, his smile bright. “Would you like to join us?”

  No. No. No! Do not agree! Bree cut them the eye, gave a slight shake of her head. Her friends spotted the signal and thank the good lord, they understood. It was Christine who used her manners and fancy upbringing to hide Bree’s snub and make it look as though this really weren’t a good time instead of the truth: no time would be a good time.

  “Thank you for the offer, but we’re just here for a quick bite and I’m afraid we wouldn’t all fit.” Christine pointed to the booth across the room where Gina sat, head still buried in the menu as if she might actually order something other than her three “go to” choices. “Gina’s with us and five’s a tough fit.”

  Bree didn’t miss the way Adam’s brows pinched together as his gaze traveled across the room to land on Gina, kind of like he was piecing together one of those spreadsheets he loved so much. “Well,” he said, turning back to Christine and Tess. “It was a pleasure to meet you, especially since you’re Bree’s friends.”

  “Yes,” Tess said, eyeing Bree. “We’ve been together a lot of years, good times and bad. But no matter what, we’ve gotten through it. Right, Bree?”

  If she could disappear right this second, she would. Bree knew she’d done wrong by her friends, knew she’d hurt them, but she hadn’t had the energy or the desire to fight through it. For heaven’s sake, she’d lost Brody to another woman and a heart attack, but that wasn’t all. That wasn’t even the worst of it. No, the worst of it was the loss of her dream. Her dream. The husband, the children, the white-picket-fence dream of perfect. All gone. It was unbearable to stand by and witness her best friends in states of such absolute bliss with their men when Bree was all alone with nothing but memories of a cheating husband who’d done her wrong. Poor Tess had her own sadness with her baby issues, but at least she had a husband who worshipped her, no matter what.

  “Bree?”

  Tess’s soft voice pulled her back, snapped her out of remembering the past and her many losses. “Huh? Oh, yes. Yes, that’s right. We’ve been friends a long time.”

  “We know you’re busy, but don’t be a stranger.” Christine stepped forward, gave Bree a hug. “We miss you,” she whispered in her ear.

  Bree blinked hard, whispered back, “Miss you, too.” Tess hesitated, her perfect face a mix of pain and something that could only be called disappointment. She hugged Bree hard, and this time it was Bree who whispered, “Miss you.”

  Adam didn’t comment as her friends made their way across the diner and slid into the booth where Gina sat. He studied the menu for a few minutes, ordered the turkey and Swiss on sourdough bread with a side salad and an iced tea. The man’s choice of food made Bree’s hamburger and fries look like a trip down heart-attack lane. She’d try a healthier choice—tomorrow.

  “So, tell me about your friends.”

  She shrugged, lifted the salt shaker and traced the lines on the bottle. “Not much to tell. We’ve been friends a long time, actually grew up together. Except for Christine. She’s from Chicago.” Bree looked up, met his gaze. “It’s a long story, but she ended up staying here and marrying one of the best guys in this town.”

  “Let me guess. The Desantro guy.”

  “How’d you know that?” Was somebody spilling the beans on the people in Magdalena? If so, what else had they told him?

  “Mimi,” he said. “She’s better than a newspaper. Told me about the old guy with the sneakers and sweats who runs the town and belongs to the garden club. And then there’s the girl with Down syndrome everybody loves.” He paused, rubbed his chin. “The cop from Philly who swore he’d never settle in a town like this one and is now a husband and father.” He let out a laugh. “The guy with the pool, the kid who’s found his calling in the kitchen.” His voice dwindled to a soft tone when he added, “You.”

  The look he gave her said Mimi Pendergrass had opened her book of memories and spit out all sorts of stories, probably tales of Bree’s obsession with the bridal suite and those dang rose petals, and maybe she’d even blurted out how Bree ate bags of Jordan almonds every single time she got pregnant because she was trying for a boy. Silliness, all of it. Well, she wasn’t having it. If a person couldn’t be there when someone was telling high tales about her, then that was unfair. Bree narrowed her gaze on him, wished she could swat the smile from his face, and said, “What did she tell you about me?”

  He picked up his spoon, fiddled with it. “Nothing I didn’t already know.” That dang smile slid across the table, landed in her belly, and oh, but it made her all hot inside.

  “Adam Brandon, tell me this very second what Mimi Pendergrass said about me.” She crossed her arms over her chest, huffed. “I can guess, yes, I can. I’ll bet she said how sorry they all were because I never knew my husband was cheating on me. Poor Bree, trusting soul that she was, never saw that one coming. Brody made a fool of her, no matter what she tried to do to save that marriage. The boy just did not possess the intelligence to run her daddy’s business and everybody knew she never should have married him, but she wouldn’t listen. Oh, no, Bree would not listen to anyone. Quit college, too; all she saw was that big lug of muscle who carried her around like she was a five-pound bag of potatoes. He promised her the world, sweet-talked her like she’d never heard before, and she told you what happened, didn’t she? I know she did.” Bree clutched the edges of the Formica table, tried to steady her voice, but it was no use. Words shot out before she could stop them. “Brody sucked the life out of her, one baby at a time. That’s what she told you, right? And when she miscarried little Samantha, he didn’t see what that did to her, wanted to pick right up and get a baby in her belly again, like she was a prize cow bought to breed. But her friends stepped in and saved her, and so did the new man in town, Ben Reed. If it weren’t for them, who knows what might have happened?” She glanced at the table across the room, her throat clogging when she spotted Gina, Tess, and Christine. They’d stayed by her side and what had she gone and done? Abandoned them. She was pitiful, worse than pitiful. “Did Mimi tell you I haven’t spoken to them in months?” Bree dragged her gaze to his. “Did she tell you that?”

  “No, she didn’t.” He spoke in a quiet voice, just loud enough for her to hear. “She didn’t tell me anything about you other than what a great person you were and how you’d had your share of bad luck.” Adam rubbed his jaw, studied her. “But it sounds like there was an awful lot she left out.”

  * * *

  The boy was polite, well mannered, handsome as all get-out. And smart, very smart. Mimi deciphered these qualities fifteen minutes after he walked into the Heart Sent and by the time they shared a meal and a glass of scotch, she knew Adam Brandon was special. Not show-off special, but genuine, care-about-you special. What she couldn’t figure out is why he didn’t look her straight in the eye when she asked him his purpose for being in Magdalena. Sure, he’d eyeballed her when he mentioned Rex MacGregor and MacGre
gor Cabinets, but when it got down to the particulars, like what was he going to do there, well, that’s when the boy broke eye contact, tossed out words like consultant and efficiency, but what was he leaving out?

  That’s what Mimi wanted to know and she’d bet that’s why Pop was standing in her kitchen right now, holding a shoebox in both hands that she knew would be filled with the “tool” that had been used for scads of reasons: peace offering, welcome, good-bye, birthday, get well, congratulations, sympathy, icebreaker, and, of course, Pop’s specialty, distraction. Mimi bet the pizzelles were about distraction. Get Adam Brandon relaxed and talking so Pop could make his own assessments and later, he and Mimi would compare notes and see if they could uncover the rest of the story, the one that made the boy look away when asked exactly what he was doing here.

  And that’s why Pop settled into a chair at the kitchen table and motioned for Adam Brandon to do the same. “Have a seat, young man.” Pop opened the shoebox and slid it across the table to Adam’s spot. “Help yourself. They’re my specialty.”

  Adam peeked inside, took one. “Pizzelles.” He bit into the pizzelle, smiled. “Anise.”

  Pop nodded, eased a pizzelle from the box. “I make vanilla ones, too, but I figured you for the anise type.” He shrugged, pinned Adam with a look that said, “Was I right or was I double right?” and said, “Too many people stick their noses up at strong smells like anise and garlic and provolone. Not me. I say that’s the hallmark of good eating.”

  “I love anise, but I’ll never turn down any kind of pizzelle.” He laughed, dug out another pizzelle. “When I was in Rome, I really did think I was in heaven. The pasta, the cheeses—” he paused, brought his fingers to his lips and smacked them with a kiss “—the wine.”

  “Rome, huh?”

  Mimi didn’t miss the sadness in Pop’s voice. He and Lucinda had talked about taking a grand trip to Italy one day: Rome, Venice, maybe Florence. They’d ride in a gondola, visit the Sistine Chapel, and hear the pope say Mass at the Vatican. But the time had never been right, the money too slim, and before they knew it, Lucinda was on her deathbed with Pop at her side, feeding her bits of pizzelle like a communion wafer. Sad and tragic and so darn uncontrollable.

  Adam must have detected the change in Pop’s voice, too, because he nodded and said, “I heard Mass at the Vatican, too.”

  “Did you now?” Pop’s expression softened. “My wife and I talked about what it must be like to stand with all those people from all over the world, shoulder to shoulder, joining in the celebration of the Mass. I can’t imagine what that must feel like.”

  Pop didn’t need to wonder too long because Adam painted the picture for him, said he had photographs back in Chicago, and if Pop wanted, he’d send him copies when he got back there. Of course, Pop wanted the photos and he was so head-over-heels crazy for information, he missed the chance to ask the boy when exactly he would be returning to Chicago. Mimi fixed them hibiscus tea and listened to them gab about homemade pasta and fresh-baked bread. So much for Pop and his fine-tuned investigative work. Anything the man provided in the way of analyzing and deducing would be distorted with memories of this talk. Had the man ever taken to an outsider so fast? She didn’t think so, but then it must feel good to find someone willing to share an experience you’ve always wanted and know you’ll never have. There was a lot to be said for a person fulfilling an old man’s dream, even if it was by a retelling.

  Mimi had pretty much given up trying to figure out the real reason behind Adam Brandon’s appearance in Magdalena when the boy offered a tidbit that was too good to ignore. He and Pop had gotten on the subject of small-town life and how people were family even if they weren’t blood. Mimi had her back to them and was slicing a cucumber for tonight’s salad when the tidbit fell out of Adam’s mouth.

  “Bree Kinkaid said the whole town stood behind her when she lost her husband.” Pause, and then the dip in his voice that sounded more like feelings than curiosity. “That must have been really rough on her.”

  Oh, yes, indeed those were feelings and if Mimi had her bingo card in front of her, she’d say “Bingo!” The boy had a thing for Bree. Pop was too distracted with thoughts of Italy to notice, but Mimi heard it, deciphered it, too. Loud and decibel-clanging clear.

  “Poor Bree. Nice girl.” Pop tsk-tsked. “It was a bad time for her, but we all got her through it. Hate to say she’s given up on happily-ever-after, but she’s turned away more than one suitor since her husband died, said it wasn’t in her to care that much again, or trust again. Sad when you can’t find a way to give hope a second chance.”

  Mimi reached for a tomato and slipped in her three cents. “Maybe when the right man comes along, she will. Look what happened with Ben and Gina Reed.” Ben had a special place in Mimi’s heart and she couldn’t be happier he’d found a home and a wife in Magdalena.

  “True,” Pop said. “It’s all about finding the right mate.” There was a half-second pause before he added, “You got a special someone, Adam?”

  Mimi sneaked a peek over her shoulder, caught Pop’s eye. The man might have been distracted by talk of the Vatican and anise pizzelles, but he’d picked up the ball and was running toward the end zone.

  “Not exactly.”

  There was real hesitation in those words, like the boy wasn’t sure what to say. Was that because he didn’t know the answer or because he knew the answer and didn’t want to share it?

  “That don’t sound too convincing. What do you think, Mimi? Does Adam sound like there’s no woman in his life? Because the ‘not exactly’ means you got a bead on somebody and either she’s got the same bead on you or you wish she had.”

  Mimi hid a smile, moved toward the table so she could see Adam’s face. Nothing like looking at a person head-on to get a feel for the accuracy of the statement. Hmm. Was that a hint of pink under all that tan? She’d say it was. “I think Adam would like to keep the answer to himself right now, but that doesn’t mean we can’t offer a few suggestions without overstepping.”

  “There’s really nothing to say.” Adam looked at Pop, then Mimi, and yes, the pink under the tan had turned to rose. “I’m not…in a relationship right now.”

  “Because you don’t want to be or because she don’t want to be?” Pop crossed his bony arms over his chest and slid a gaze from the boy’s haircut to the fancy loafers. “I’m only asking because Bree Kinkaid’s a mighty fine young lady and a few seconds around that girl is like a bee swarming around honey. I’ve seen it happen firsthand and it’s a sight.” Pop let out a laugh that made Mimi join in. “Never seen anything like it in my life.”

  No amount of throat clearing and stammered words from Adam Brandon was going to change the truth: something was brewing between him and Bree. The only question was, had it already happened or was it around the corner?

  11

  Bree opened the door to the Heaven Sent and slipped inside. She’d been in this place enough times to find her way in the dim light from the lamp in the hallway and the sconces at the top of the stairs. She’d removed her shoes to avoid the clickety-clack on the hardwood floor and took care to avoid the creaky floorboard near the entrance to the parlor. It was late and the girls had begged to stay at Grandma and Grandpa’s tonight because tomorrow was teacher in-service day and Grandma promised they’d all head to the Nature Center in Renova to see the animals. If she tried real hard, she could say it was the educational system of Magdalena, New York, that drove her to the Heart Sent because if there hadn’t been a teacher’s day tomorrow, the girls would not have pestered her to stay at Grandma and Grandpa’s and that would not have given Bree free time to drive to the Heart Sent with four double fudge brownies and a bottle of red wine.

  But here she was, creeping up the stairs to the third room on the left, because she’d oh so casually asked which room he was staying in. If he thought the question was a strange one, Adam didn’t comment, but those gray eyes had sparked when he looked at her like he was thinking
about her being in that room with him. Bree reached the top of the steps and inched down the hallway. When she spotted his room and the slit of light under the door, she knocked and held her breath. Dear Lord, what am I doing?

  That question left her brain the second Adam opened the door, wearing a T-shirt and exercise shorts: tanned, muscled, way too gorgeous.

  “Bree?”

  She thrust the wine and brownies at him. “I brought you a treat.”

  He glanced at his watch, then back at her, his brows pinching together. “At 9:20 at night?”

  Was he going to make her spell out why she was really here? Well, she wasn’t about to do it in the hallway. “May I come in?” She shot a glance behind her to make sure Mimi wasn’t standing there and whispered, “I want to talk to you.”

  “Uh, sure.” He stepped aside to let her enter and closed the door behind her.

  Bree glanced at the bed with the rumpled comforter and pillows propped up on one side, a laptop resting in the center. That was the only bit of untidiness in the room. No shoes thrown about, no clothes tossed over the back of the chair, no scraps of paper on the nightstand. “My, you certainly are neat.”

  He set the goodie bag and bottle of wine on the small table next to the chair and said, “What are you really doing here, Bree?”

  She shrugged, tried for a smile that refused to cooperate, and ended with a frown. “The kids are with Mama and Daddy tonight.” Why was he looking at her like he thought she was up to no good and trying to drag him into it? She wasn’t trying to drag him into anything he hadn’t led her to believe he wanted to be dragged into. “So, since the kids aren’t home, I had a bit of extra time and I made these brownies…and thought you might like some company.”