When You Knew (The Cabots Book 3)

by Jamie Beck

  She swiveled. “Why?”

  “She dropped off some information—fund-raising leads—for me.” He approached Gentry as one might approach a grenade and nodded toward Quackers. “She also gave me the scoop on him.”

  Gentry scowled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. There’s no scoop.”

  “I asked why you were so attached to that mangy thing—”

  “He’s not mangy,” she interrupted.

  “Your sister said Hunter gave it to you when you were little.”

  Gentry’s nostrils flared a touch, but she shuttered all emotion and shrugged. “Who remembers?”

  “Apparently Colby does.” He could stop . . . or not. “In fact, it opened up a bunch of memories for her, not all of them good.”

  Gentry’s frown returned. With an acerbic lilt, she said, “Who knew Quackers was such a gateway to the past.”

  “There’s more.”

  “Do tell.” She swayed, with her son gripped tightly in her arms.

  “She has regrets about the way she behaved back then.”

  “Why are we talking about this?” Gentry abruptly ended the conversation by kissing Colt and turning away, but not before Ian noticed the flush rising up her neck and cheeks. “So much nonsense over a toy.”

  He raised his hands, stepping back. Now who was being the coward? he thought. “Sorry. Just making small talk.”

  “No need. You’re off the clock and free to do whatever it is you need to do to secure your exit strategy.” She turned on her heel and marched toward her room with Colt.

  Message received. She was still pissed about last night. Her arrival hadn’t gone at all as he’d planned.

  She’d have to come to the kitchen sooner or later, if only to eat . . . or drink. Probably both. Then she’d see what he’d left for her on the refrigerator. For now, he’d wait on the deck and finish his orange.

  The rain had stopped hours ago. Few things soothed him like the scent of a loamy Oregon forest. Pretty much the opposite of the burned wood and trash odors of Haiti’s many and continual bonfires.

  As predicted, Gentry wandered back to the kitchen about thirty minutes later. She must’ve settled Colt, or maybe she was fixing him a bottle. He watched through the plate glass as she stopped at the refrigerator and fingered his peace offering.

  He’d dipped Colt’s feet in washable blue paint and pressed them to a sheet of computer paper, turning those footprints into the wings of a badly drawn butterfly. Across the top of the page, he’d typed a quote he’d heard before: “A mom’s hug lasts long after she lets go,” in the hope that it might alleviate some of the guilt she battled every day when she left for work.

  He slid the glass door open and stepped inside. She looked up as he closed it.

  “Look at this. A humanitarian and an artist.” Her expression remained closed, but her voice had mellowed.

  Ian remembered Colby’s observation about Gentry’s defensive mechanisms, so he wasn’t offended by her lack of gratitude.

  “Picasso’s got nothing on me.” He hesitated. “I thought you might like to take that to work.”

  “Thank you.” She opened the refrigerator door and pulled out the pink box of cheesecake she’d bought earlier in the week. “Although maybe I won’t be working there much longer.”

  He stopped his approach, stunned. He knew she’d been struggling to juggle the demands of the launch with her general lack of sleep, but had she been fired? “Why not?”

  “My reasons for working there aren’t really paying off. Or, at least, not enough to make the humiliation worth it.” She waved that thought away and grabbed a fork. Without bothering to plate a slice, she opened the lid and ate directly from the box. “Maybe Colt’s better off if I stay home. I could pursue photography. We’d be free to travel, which might come in handy if we find Smith.” She looked right at him. “Might as well be the cliché everyone already thinks I am. At least it’d be fun.”

  “You’re a lot of things, but clichéd isn’t one of them.”

  “Ha!” A disbelieving grin popped into place. “You’ve been making assumptions about me from the minute you walked through my door.”

  “Everyone has first impressions.” He shrugged unapologetically. “They change when people learn more about each other. One thing I hadn’t thought about you until right now was that you were a quitter.”

  “And here I’d thought McJ had retired on Saturday. Guess you can’t help yourself.” She stared at him while shoving a huge chunk of cheesecake into her mouth.

  He should walk away now because it’d be easier for both of them if they maintained a barely cordial relationship until he left. He turned to go but then whirled around and crossed to her, pulling the remains of the cheesecake away. “Stop it.”

  She reached for the cheesecake. “Are you judging my diet now, too?”

  He clasped her wrist. “Stop pretending you don’t care about anything. We both know that’s a lie. Let’s deal with last night like grown-ups.”

  She pulled free from his grasp. “This is me being grown-up. What happened—or didn’t happen—last night is no big deal, so get over yourself.”

  “Now who’s the coward?”

  Instead of another dig, she ducked to get around him in an effort to flee the kitchen. He caught her by the waist and tugged her against his stomach, keeping his arms wrapped around her waist. “You think I put on the brakes last night because I don’t care, but that’s not true. I stopped because I do care.”

  “Let go!” She broke free. “I don’t know what Colby said today that has you feeling sorry for me and making art to cheer me up, but I’m fine. I don’t need pity.”

  “That’s not what this is.”

  “What is it?”

  “Honesty. I’m clearing the air so we can go back to being friends.”

  “From not friends to make-out buddies to hands off . . . now we’re friends again? Well, thanks for clearing that up.”

  He wilted against the countertop. “You don’t make anything easy.”

  “So I’m told. Fortunately, you won’t have to deal with me for much longer.”

  “What don’t you get, Gentry? I can’t afford to care more. I tried that once, with my ex, Farrah, and it didn’t turn out well. I try to learn from my mistakes. My life’s not compatible with relationships.” He gripped the countertop behind him, forcing the next thought out despite some regret. “You need a guy—Smith or someone else—who can help you build a family for your son.”

  Tapping her foot, she crossed her arms. “On that last part we mostly agree.”

  “Finally.” He nodded, thinking she’d beat a hasty exit now. Instead, she closed the gap between them and put her hands on his chest.

  “But in case you’re wrong about all the rest.” She kissed him.

  The sensual kiss tasted like sweetened almond. Instinct forced his arms around her before he thought better of it. Her body, soft in all the right places, made his hot and hard. But as much as he wanted her, the last thing Gentry Cabot needed was to get close to another person who would walk out of her life.

  “Gentry.” He broke the kiss but hugged her tight. “We both know the timing is wrong.”

  “The story of my life.” She cupped his face, a sad smile on her own, then let her hands drop. With a half shrug, she said, “Guess we’ll settle for friendship, but don’t expect much. I don’t have a lot of practice with that, either.”

  Chapter Ten

  Matchmake

  According to Merriam-Webster: to bring about a marriage especially by scheming

  According to me: one thing I do better than Colby

  A stiff breeze carried the scent of wisteria, which wrapped its way around the stone columns of CTC’s covered patio, while the sun played hide-and-seek with cumulus clouds. Staff members occupied about half the teak-and-aluminum café tables, leaving few options for privacy. Privacy from others was something Gentry now chose for herself despite her decision to tough it out at
CTC.

  “I forgot how cozy this patio is.” Colby set a white paper bag on the corner table Gentry selected and unpacked the to-go containers Alec had prepared for them. “Hunter and Dad couldn’t join us for lunch?”

  “Actually, I wanted to talk to you alone.” For three days, Gentry had been mulling over Colby and Ian’s private chat about Quackers.

  “Super, because I also have something personal to discuss, too.” Colby took a seat. Her sister’s glowing face and broad smile tipped Gentry off to big news. “May I go first, please?”

  “Are you pregnant?” Gentry clapped, delighted by the idea of Colt gaining another cousin.

  “No!” She laughed, poking Gentry’s arm. “I’m a bit more traditional than you, so we’re waiting until after the wedding. But what a perfect segue.”

  “Ah, you finally set a date.” Gentry opened the calendar on her phone and waited for the information.

  “Yes, we did. September thirtieth.”

  Gentry set the phone down. “That’s not even three full months from now. How will you arrange everything in time?”

  “It’ll be small—thirty or so guests.” Colby creased the napkin on her lap, eyes glued to her hands. “Given all the history, we don’t want a lavish production, but I also don’t want to elope . . .”

  She left “like I did with Mark” unsaid.

  Gentry patted her sister’s shoulder. “Dad will be thrilled. Leslie, too. Will it be at A CertainTea?”

  “Yes. If the weather cooperates, we’ll have the ceremony in the lakeside gazebo, then have the reception on the patio. Otherwise, we’ll do everything inside.”

  “And the honeymoon?” Gentry wiggled her brows.

  “Alec wants to take me to Mougins and then tour the French wine regions along the coast.” Her sister’s smile returned in full force. “I can’t wait to see where he lived and worked all those years.”

  “Sounds like heaven. I’m so happy for you.” Gentry remembered the first time she saw Alec walk into A CertainTea after he’d disappeared for a year. The way he’d looked at Colby had told Gentry everything she needed to know, so she’d done whatever she could—including flirt with him—to prod her sister into action. It hadn’t been easy, but now Gentry could tease her. “You owe me big for stepping aside last fall . . .”

  “Ha-ha.” Colby chuckled before sampling the burrata with pesto, pine nuts, and some kind of yellow flower. “But with that in mind, I’d love it if you’d be my maid of honor.”

  “Me?” Gentry pointed at herself with surprise.

  “Yes, you.” Colby’s expression pinched in confusion.

  “Not Sara or your mom?”

  “My mother will revel in her mother-of-the-bride role. Sara will be a bridesmaid, of course, but you’re my sister. I want you beside me.”

  Gentry leaned on her elbows, bracelets hitting against the metal edge of the table. “You trust me to plan the bachelorette party?”

  “No tattoos or strippers.” Colby raised her index finger, then took another bite of the burrata.

  “You’re no fun,” Gentry teased.

  “It’s pretty well established that you got all the ‘fun’ genes.” Colby winked and set her fork down. “So is that a yes?”

  Gentry didn’t know why she could never accept any show of affection without suspicion, but she replied, “Are you asking because you think my feelings would be hurt if you chose Sara?”

  Colby flinched, her voice thin. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because Ian was full of theories about Quackers after your recent visit. It sounded like you’ve come to a bunch of conclusions about me and about our past.” Gentry stared at the shrimp salad she’d been picking at. “I don’t want you or him, or anyone else, being nice to me out of some kind of guilt complex.”

  Colby raked her hand through her hair, sighing. “I’m sorry if I upset you. You know I’ve been trying to be closer, but not out of pity. I was too young, and then too preoccupied, to notice sooner. Now I know that I missed out on having a relationship with my sister, and I’m trying to fix it. Is that so wrong?”

  “No.” Inside, Gentry battled the discomfort of being vulnerable. “I wouldn’t be working here”—she gestured around CTC—“if I didn’t want Colt to grow up surrounded by family.”

  “Colt, huh?”

  “Yes, Colt. I’m already grown. The past can’t change my future. Frankly, I’m not sure working here will, either.”

  “Hold that thought for a sec, but”—Colby grabbed her hand—“relationships are always changing. Everything we do and say brings us closer or pulls us apart. But it takes two people who are willing to be vulnerable. Most of the time, you’re guarded.”

  Conditioning, she thought, but didn’t say. “Sorry.”

  “No apologies needed. Just say you’ll be my maid of honor.” Her hopeful smile unlocked something soft and tender in Gentry’s hardened heart.

  “Do I get to pick my own dress? Or maybe my Gaultier pantsuit with the bra top?” The hesitant look on her sister’s face made Gentry laugh. “I’m kidding. I fully expect to look like a cross between a nun and a librarian.”

  Colby snorted, shooting a little water through her nose. After dabbing her face, she said, “I found a short navy-blue belted Vera Wang dress for Sara and you. Classic but a touch flirty.”

  “Short?” Gentry smiled in surprise. “It’ll go great with my thigh-high gray snakeskin boots.”

  “Then no one will see the ankle tattoo,” Colby teased.

  “That would be a loss.” Gentry stretched out her leg and turned her ankle to admire the vine on her leg.

  “So it’s a yes?” Colby squeezed Gentry’s hand again.

  “I’d love to be your maid of honor.” Gentry leaned over for a side hug with her sister. “Too bad Colt’s too young to be a ring bearer. Is Ty?”

  “Not sure. Alec is asking Hunter to be his best man. Maybe Ty could come down the aisle with Sara.”

  Gentry imagined Colby in a wedding gown. Something simple and elegant—silk organza with a hint of lace or crystal. Elie Saab, perhaps? Whatever Colby chose to wear, she would glow even more with Alec at the altar than she did now. “Dad will be sobbing when he gives you away.”

  “I know I hurt him when I eloped.” Colby’s smiled faded as Mark’s ghost drifted into their conversation. “I want to do this wedding—this marriage—right.”

  Alec was the perfect guy for Colby. They’d known each other since childhood, and they were both quiet, gentle people who’d suffered tremendous losses and had come through it together. Was that the key . . . finding someone like oneself instead of one’s opposite? That theory pretty much knocked Ian off her list. “It’ll be perfect, I’m sure. Everything you do usually is.”

  “Hardly, but thanks.” Colby tossed her long, tawny locks over her shoulder. “So what’s making you second-guess working here? Is it Hunter? I know he’s hyperfocused on the launch.”

  “He’s actually been better than my mom and the people in my department.”

  “Really? I would’ve thought Jenna would bend over backwards to keep you happy here.”

  “Have you met my mother?” Gentry mocked, staring at her iced tea, wishing it would magically transform into a robust cabernet. “She thinks if she’s nice to me, others will dislike me. But when she’s dismissive, no one takes me seriously.”

  “I remember her relationship with Hunter taking its nosedive once he started working here.” Colby wrinkled her nose. “Could Jenna be a little jealous? Maybe she preferred working here alone with Dad. But Hunter hung in and earned everyone’s respect, so you can, too.”

  “Unlike Hunter, I’m not sure it’s worth it.”

  “I thought you liked social media marketing? You’ve been so helpful with A CertainTea.”

  “I like it fine, but it’s not a real passion. Not like photography.” She risked opening up to her sister. “I was willing to leave Colt in someone else’s care because I thought I’d gain some respe
ct working here. But the last thing I want is to be like my mom, putting my job ahead of my child. I want to be a good mom, like Sara.”

  “You are a good mom.”

  “Not like Sara. She’s made Ty the focus of her life.”

  Colby sat back, tilting her head. “Given Ty’s past and special needs, she felt that he needed her full-time for a while. But most women keep full-time jobs and raise families. I think the best moms are women who learn to balance their kids’ needs with their own. Colt will feel loved by the way you use your time together. Don’t compare yourself to anyone, most especially not to Jenna. She’s an extreme example of ambition.”

  “Always diplomatic,” Gentry sighed. “But let’s change the subject.”

  “Okay, then tell me this. Is there something between you and Ian? I know he’s coming off a broken engagement, but he seemed very interested in hearing about you. I also sensed a little tension—the good kind—when you two came to the restaurant.”

  Gentry gulped some iced tea to douse the heat rising from the memory of Ian’s bare chest and kiss. “He’s itching to get back to Haiti.”

  “There’s a nonanswer.” Colby rolled her eyes, but Gentry kept quiet. “Couldn’t he travel back and forth?”

  “Colt needs stability, not part-time interest.” Gentry drained the rest of her iced tea. Time to wrap up this lunch.

  “Colt again, huh?” Colby toyed with her fork. “What about Smith? Any news there?”

  “No, but Hunter hired an investigator at the end of last week.”

  “Given how little you have to go on, are you holding out hope? What can the PI work with? You don’t even have a photo.”

  “I have the date, a description, and the fact he was a guest there. He also knew a lot about wine. Maybe he’s a regular, and someone on the staff will recognize him. If not, at least I can tell Colt I tried. If we find him . . .” Gentry placed her hand on her stomach to quell the queasiness that gurgled whenever she thought about finding him.

  “What are you hoping for if that happens?”

  “It’d be nice if he took an interest in Colt.”