by Jackie Braun
Mallory had been in the Berkley Grill before, though never in the evening. It was crowded with customers—families, couples, friends out for a quick bite, tourists pouring over El train maps. The only people she was paying attention to were not so subtly sizing her up, as well.
When they reached the table, Logan pressed a kiss to his mother’s cheek, shook his father’s hand and sent a wink in his sister’s direction.
“Hey, everyone, I have someone I’d like you to meet.” His hand was on Mallory’s lower back, the pressure firm and reassuring. “This is Mallory Stevens. Mallory, these are my parents, Douglas and Melinda Bartholomew, and my kid sister, Laurel.”
“Kid.” Laurel sniffed. “I’m thirty-two. As Mom likes to point out, my biological clock is ticking like a time bomb with each passing day.”
Logan shrugged. “Until you graduate from college with an actual degree, move out of Mom and Dad’s house, and get a paying job, I’ll consider you a kid.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mallory.” The young woman shook her hand before tagging on, “Even if I do question your taste in men.”
“Laurel,” their mother said evenly before turning her gaze on Mallory. Though the woman’s smile was benign Mallory still felt as if she’d just wound up in a sniper’s crosshairs. And for good reason, she decided, when Melinda said, “We didn’t realize our son was seeing anyone until his brother called us this afternoon and mentioned that Logan and his girlfriend were coming by the restaurant.”
Girlfriend. The moniker popped around in Mallory’s head with the surprising effervescence of champagne bubbles. She wanted to turn and try to gauge Logan’s reaction. Perhaps it would offer a key to how he was going to feel when she told him about the baby. But she didn’t dare. Not with this attentive audience.
“She’s not going to want to see me again if you guys don’t stop interrogating her,” he groused good-naturedly.
“We’re not interrogating her. Yet,” his father added in a comically ominous tone. Douglas patted the empty chair next to his. “Have a seat next to me, Mallory.”
“I tried to warn you,” she heard Logan mumble before he sat in a chair between his mother and sister.
Mallory found his family…interesting.
Half an hour in their company and she still couldn’t quite figure them out. Usually she was good at sizing people up, but like Logan, the rest of the Bartholomew clan didn’t fit into any of her preconceived notions. For instance, they were wealthy, but they didn’t flaunt their status. Passing them on the street one wouldn’t guess they ranked among the country’s richest families.
Melinda’s fingers sported only two rings, a tasteful gold wedding band on her left hand and what Mallory assumed to be a mother’s ring, given its trio of birthstone gems, on the right one. Melinda was a lovely woman, but not an overly vain one. Her dark hair was streaked with silver in the front and the fine lines around her eyes crinkled into deeper creases when she smiled or laughed. No Botox for her.
Douglas’s hair was a mix of dark blond and gray. It had a natural curl like his son’s, though he wore it shorter and tamer. His build wasn’t as athletic as Logan’s, but he was hardly out of shape. Indeed, even though he had to be in his late sixties he could turn female heads. But it was clear, touchingly so, that he only had eyes for Melinda, his wife of forty years.
Like his father and older brother, Luke was a head turner. He stood taller than Logan and had a stockier build. His smile was easy and engaging. He’d popped out of the kitchen not long after their arrival and apologized for keeping them all waiting. The crowd was heavier than he’d anticipated and they were short a waitress. It would be a while yet before he could join them. He’d brought out more wine and a tray of appetizers. Mallory wondered if Logan noticed she hadn’t touched the glass he’d poured for her earlier. Before returning to the kitchen, Luke had grinned at Mallory and bobbed his eyebrows in Logan’s direction.
As for Laurel, she was a bit of a wild card. She had inherited her mother’s dark hair and cheekbones, her father’s long limbs and height, but none of their tact. She eyed Mallory with outright curiosity and just enough skepticism to make Mallory choose her words carefully whenever she spoke.
Even so, she was enjoying herself. Logan’s family helped to explain a lot about him—his easy smile, for instance, and self-confident nature. Both came from a lifetime of his parents’ love and support. Since he was a psychiatrist, she figured he understood the effect those things had on a person, but she wondered if he was as grateful for his good fortune as she found herself envious of it. Even now, her mother’s love remained tainted by the bitterness of having to raise her daughter alone. As for support, Mallory’s happiness and self-fulfillment came a distant second to her mother’s desire to ensure her daughter was independent and self-sufficient.
“So, what do you do for a living?” Melinda asked. “Do you work at the radio station, too?”
“No. I’m a reporter with the Herald.”
“A reporter.” Douglas’s eyebrows rose and he whistled through his teeth.
“At the Herald, you said?” This from Laurel. Something in her eyes put Mallory on guard.
“That’s right,” she said slowly.
“You cover city hall,” his sister said.
“I did.”
“She works in the Lifestyles section now,” Logan inserted. “That’s actually how we met. Mallory interviewed me for an advance on a speech I was giving.”
“News reporting seems like such an exciting career,” Melinda said. “I’d imagine you’ve met a lot of interesting people through your work.”
“I have,” she agreed.
“Me, for instance,” Logan added, inducing a round of laughter that helped dilute Mallory’s edginess.
It was back at full strength when Laurel said, “It seems an odd change of pace for someone to go from covering city politics to writing up lightweight feature stories.”
“Laurel.” Melinda’s tone was disapproving. “You’re being rude.”
The younger woman shrugged. “I’m not trying to be. I just find it strange.” Her gaze connected with Mallory’s. “What prompted you to ask to be reassigned? If you don’t mind my asking, that is,” she added, presumably to appease her mother, who was glaring daggers at her. As for Logan, he looked as though he could have cheerfully wrung his sister’s neck.
Mallory didn’t care to be put in the hot seat, though she admired Laurel’s go-for-the-throat technique. Bluntness was best met with honesty. Evasiveness would only raise more questions.
“Features, as you rightly note, are not my forte.” She glanced at Logan then. “Although I have to admit that writing some of them has proven to be unexpectedly rewarding.”
He smiled and that gave her courage. “The truth is I didn’t ask to be reassigned from my city hall beat. I was removed from it. I screwed up.” Admitting so in front of Logan wasn’t as embarrassing as Mallory had thought it would be, perhaps because her job was no longer the epicenter of her life.
“There was a lawsuit,” Laurel murmured, though her tone said she couldn’t put a finger on the details.
Mallory decided to offer them now. “Yes. A big one that cost the newspaper a bundle in an out-of-court settlement. And it was my fault. I received information about suspected corruption from someone I considered a reliable source. I ran with it, even though I should have cross-checked the facts with other sources. I even used a quote from the mayor that came secondhand through one of his aides.”
She’d been so eager to be the first to break the news, especially when her source claimed that reporters from other news agencies were sniffing around. She’d been a fool to believe him and then hung out to dry when he claimed under oath during a deposition that he’d never said the things Mallory claimed.
She had no tape recordings of their conversation, only hastily scribbled notes. It was her word against his, and though her editor would have supported her on that score, the lack of other sources
and her insistence that they rush to print had sealed her fate.
“I let ambition cloud my judgment,” she finished.
“That happens to us all from time to time,” Douglas allowed with a sympathetic nod.
Melinda was more direct. “You’ve obviously paid for your mistake.”
Mallory laughed without humor. “My editor doesn’t see it that way yet. But then, I guess I can’t really blame him since he got taken out to the woodshed along with me.”
Barry Daniels had been allowed to keep his editorship, but per the terms of the settlement, the Herald was required to print a front-page apology and retraction. It didn’t get much worse than that for a journalist.
“He must not be too angry with you. You still have a job,” Laurel pointed out. The look on the young woman’s face said she regretted opening this particular can of worms.
Oddly, Mallory was almost glad Laurel had. She glanced at Logan. In addition to telling him about the baby, there were other things that needed to be said, confessions to be made. Now was neither the time nor the place, but she felt compelled to admit, “I’ve been trying to get back into his good graces, remind him of my abilities by producing a killer story, but it’s hard to come up with anything worthy of page one when my assignments aren’t even as meaty as the stuff I wrote as a freshman for my college newspaper.”
“I don’t know. I seem to recall a riveting piece you penned on that speech I gave last month,” he teased.
His mother smiled indulgently. “I clipped it out of the paper after reading it.”
“Yeah, and it’s still on the refrigerator,” Laurel inserted with a roll of her eyes.
“So is the letter announcing that you made the dean’s list last semester,” Melinda reminded her. “As well as the starred review a food critic did of Luke’s portabella mushroom burger.” To Mallory she confided, “I don’t believe in playing favorites. I’m proud of all of them.”
Of course she was. They might be adults, but each was successful in his or her own way. And each could count on Melinda and Douglas’s unending support. Lucky, Mallory thought again. So damned lucky. Her last call with her mother had been punctuated with nagging and complaining.
“You should write more stories about Logan,” Laurel said. “People, and by people I mean women, love to read about him. He is the city’s sexiest bachelor or some such nonsense.”
Mallory’s gaze connected with his across the table. He was smiling. The mood around the table was no longer tense. But she hoped he understood that she meant it when she said, “I’m going to leave stories about your brother to someone else to write.”
It was just after midnight when Mallory and Logan left the Berkley Grill. Technically the restaurant closed at eleven, but even after the customers had gone and the wait staff had called it a night, the Bartholomews had stayed, sipping wine and coffee and sampling food. Mallory had stuck with water and avoided anything too spicy.
She was impressed with the fare and utterly awed by the affection she’d witnessed. With her deadbeat dad and bitter mom, she’d forgotten families could be like this: warm and close. Would her baby be so lucky?
“Your folks are really great,” she told Logan as they walked hand in hand to his car. “And the rest of your family.”
“You’ll get no arguments from me. I even like my kid sister most of the time.”
“Come on, you love her.”
He shrugged. “That goes without saying. We’re family.”
“No, it doesn’t go without saying,” Mallory objected, thinking of her father. “Love isn’t automatic just because you’re related to someone.”
“You’re right. It’s not.”
“Half a dozen times tonight, I found myself thinking how lucky you are. I hope you know it.”
“I do. I’m sorry about your dad, Mallory. Sorry not only for what he missed when you were young, but what he’s missing out on now.” They had arrived at his car and now stood at the passenger door. Instead of reaching for the handle, Logan reached for her. “You’re an amazing woman,” he whispered into her hair.
If she hadn’t already known she was in love with him, she would have figured it out then and there. She still wasn’t sure what to do about her emotions or where their relationship was heading, but she knew one thing for certain. She and Logan needed to talk.
CHAPTER TEN
LOGAN sat pitched forward on Mallory’s couch, his right foot tapping on the polished hardwood floor as he waited for her to return from the kitchen, where she was getting them both a beverage.
Something was up.
He’d gotten that feeling on and off all evening. He might have attributed it to meeting his family or the awkwardness of his sister’s questioning, but Mallory had been acting odd even before they arrived at the restaurant. And then on the way home she’d uttered the words that no man wanted to hear: “There’s something I need to tell you.”
He’d narrowed her bombshell—and he didn’t doubt what she was gearing up to tell him was going to rock him back on his heels—to one of two things. She was either preparing to tell him she didn’t want to see him anymore or she was going to tell him she was falling in love with him.
Logically, neither was a stretch. She’d met his entire family tonight. Things were getting serious between the two of them, which might just scare Mallory enough to make her cut and run. Or it might just give her the courage to declare the depth of her feelings for him.
Either possibility had his mouth going dry.
Logan didn’t want to lose Mallory. He might not be ready for what was happening between them, but he wasn’t a fool. These past couple of months with her had been nothing short of incredible. She had reawakened in him feelings he’d denied for a long time. But love? It was a big word that tended to lead to an even bigger commitment, one he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to make again.
“Here’s your wine,” she said, smiling nervously when she returned. He noticed that she’d stuck with water. Keeping a clear head?
She handed him his glass and set hers on the end table. Before sitting next to him on the couch, she slipped off her shoes and tucked her bare feet up under herself. Even so she looked anything but relaxed.
He sipped his wine and waited. It was a moment before she broke the silence. When she did, it was with the benign comment: “I really enjoyed myself tonight.”
“Good. I’m glad. I did, too.”
“Do you get guys together often? As a family, I mean?”
Even as he wondered where the conversation was heading, he nodded. “Not as often as my mom would like since we’re pretty busy these days. But we aim for Sunday dinner at my folks’ house at least once a month.”
“Who does the cooking?” She cocked her head to one side and her expression verged on wistful. It was a sight to behold considering mere weeks ago jaded was an adjective his agent had used to describe Mallory.
“My mom, although she puts us all to work in the kitchen when she needs help.”
“Even your dad?”
“Especially my dad.” He laughed.
“That’s nice.” She smiled and reached for her water. “I have a confession to make.” Uh-oh. Here we go. “I thought that since your folks are well-to-do they would have live-in help.”
Okay, that wasn’t exactly the confession Logan was expecting Mallory to make. He relaxed a little. Thinking about his family tended to have that effect. “When I was a kid we had a housekeeper who came in once a week, but generally speaking my mom prefers to do the cooking and what she calls ‘homemaking.’” This time his smile was wistful. “My mom is proof there’s a real art to keeping a nice and well-ordered home, raising children and arranging schedules to maximize together time.”
“Did she ever work outside the home?”
He nodded. “She still does, after she retired from an accounting job she started volunteering at the Clearwater Project.”
“I’ve heard of that. It promotes environmental responsibil
ity, right?”
“Yes. My mom’s new favorite color is green.” Because their conversation was taking on the characteristics of an interview, he decided to ask some questions of his own. “What about your mom? What does she do?”
Mallory’s expression was no longer wistful. “Well, she was the quintessential stay-at-home mother before the divorce. She used to bake cakes from scratch. She was a regular Martha Stewart but without the entrepreneurial flair. She was pretty meticulous about the house being clean, things being orderly.
“I used to think that was why my dad worked late so often. He didn’t want to be nagged about where he’d taken off his shoes or how he’d forgotten to hang up his clothes.” She shook her head and he wondered if she knew how sad she looked when she added, “It turned out he was spending his evenings with someone who didn’t care in the least that he left his clothes on the bedroom floor.”
“Sorry.” He’d said that already once tonight in reference to her father.
She shook her head now. “I understand why my dad stepped out. It was wrong and I’m not making any excuses for his behavior, but I understand. What I don’t understand is that my mom knew and she put up with it. Ultimately, he was the one who had to file for divorce.”
“It sounds like financially it made sense for her to stay in the relationship, even though it wasn’t a good one.”
“I know, but—” Mallory shrugged “—my last boyfriend cheated on me. It was over as soon as I found out. I didn’t wait for explanations. I didn’t want any.”
“Actions speak louder than words,” he agreed.
“I know about your fiancée.”
Logan hadn’t seen that coming. Was this what she wanted to talk about? His tone cautious, he asked, “What do you know?”
“That the two of you were engaged to be married a decade ago, and a fall wedding was planned. Felicia married someone else, though.”