Rory didn’t know. She pulled up the text and had to fight a groan when she saw Melanie’s message.
Two possibilities so far, both will go fast, both way beyond your price ceiling. Rental is probably the only way to finance the school short-term, then build equity toward long-term projection.
Attached to the text were two images. The first site looked amazing, but so far beyond her budget as to be in another solar system. The second site was way too close to the industrial area near the thruway. Yes, it would be convenient for families going to work in Rochester or Syracuse, but while the building had potential, she hadn’t envisioned the hustle and bustle of commuter and tourist traffic buzzing by daily.
She wanted bucolic. Pastoral. A place where kids could run free.
It didn’t matter, anyway, because both places were way out of her financial league, with or without the grant money.
What about dividing Belker to buy just the house facing Jackson Road? Were you able to check into that?
The Realtor’s return text came back quickly.
Belker seems to be tied up, status uncertain.
Rory stared at the text. Status uncertain? Miss Flora had seemed pretty certain the previous day. She bit back a sigh as she texted back a thank you.
“What’s wrong?”
She looked up from the phone, surprised.
Cruz stood near her, looking genuinely concerned.
She made a face and dismissed the text for now. “Not the news I wanted to hear, is all.”
“What about?”
She wasn’t about to share her plans. To a big-league player from New York, a little kid schoolhouse in the hills would be small potatoes, and she wasn’t ready to have anyone scoff at her dream. “A project I’m working on that appears to be over budget.”
“Can I help? I’m good with figures.”
Oh, she bet he was. No one ran up Wall Street successes without being well schooled in that respect. She might be an upstate woman, but she hadn’t been born yesterday. “So am I, and the figures say I need to downsize my plans. Did you find what you were looking for?”
He arched one brow in question.
“In the grapevines. You were checking underneath.”
“I was investigating fruit set.” When she made a face he went on. “To see how many clusters there were per vine.”
“Ah.”
He turned, shoved his hands into his pockets and surveyed the sloping vineyard. “My father put his heart and soul into those vines. He had a way of coaxing the grape to its fullest potential, every year. If it was a bad year for Cabernet grapes, he made sure the Rieslings made up for it. It was an art to him.” He glanced toward his mother, twenty feet away, but the look in his eyes said it might as well be miles. “She never understood his love for the fields. He never understood her love for pretense and money.”
“Leaving you stuck in the middle,” Rory said softly.
He shook his head quickly. “I was fine. I found my way, making my own path between the warring factions.”
But it was clear that he wasn’t fine, that he’d adapted as best he could in a house divided.
Her parents were strong, faith-filled and loving. They’d set the bar high for relationships for their daughters, and even when they’d lost her older brother, Dave, to a drug dealer’s bullet, their faith had helped them through.
Who helped Cruz?
His father gone, his mother distant and the world clamoring for his money-making skills. How easy it must have been to slide into that ego-boosting role.
He glanced back at the phone in her hand. “Sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
She shook her head. With so much on her plate this summer, she’d be fortunate to get the paperwork done, much less all her ducks in a row. “Thank you, no. Something I have to iron out for myself.”
He frowned instantly. “And I took you away to come here and play peacemaker. I apologize.”
Making him feel bad was the last thing she wanted to do when he and his mother seemed steeped in regrets already. “No worries. But I do need to get home and get things set for tomorrow.”
“Javi. Elina.” He stopped, instantly chagrined that he’d used the wrong name.
Rosa turned.
He raised his gaze to his mother’s and she dipped her chin. “It’s a mistake I have made often myself. There is such a resemblance.”
He almost said something, then didn’t.
The kids ran toward him, and Lily frowned, grabbing his hand. “Can’t we stay here? Just a little while more?”
Javi looked up, too, his gaze imploring.
Cruz shook his head. “Gotta go. Say goodbye to Mimi.”
“Can we come back tomorrow? Please?” Lily wasn’t a begging child, but she grasped his hand between hers and Rory wasn’t sure if he could resist her plea.
He didn’t look down. He looked over her head, at his mother, and then squared his shoulders. “We’ll see, okay?”
“But we might, right, Cwuz?” Javi, ever the optimist, grabbed his other hand. “We just might?”
Cruz looked down this time. Two sets of eyes gazed back at him, two hearts, yearning for what so many took for granted: a home. “Maybe,” he told them.
They sighed together, relieved.
He hadn’t promised, but he hadn’t said no, either.
Rory knew kids. These two were sweet and good, but they were also quite normal. He’d said maybe.
And the children would never let him forget it.
* * *
Cruz and his mother were caught between a rock and a hard place, Rory mused as she walked into the house an hour later. After seeing Cruz’s reaction today, that loomed ominous for all concerned.
“Rory? Is that you?” A very pregnant Kimberly came into the kitchen. “Where are the kids?”
“Cruz is taking them for ice cream.”
Kimberly looked at the clock, then the stove. “Was anyone considering making them dinner?”
“You haven’t even had the baby yet, and already you’re an expert on child care.” Rory grinned. “Talk to me when you’ve managed a classroom of twelve preschoolers with nothing but your wits, construction paper and glue sticks.”
“Am I getting bossy?” Kimberly looked sincere, but Rory had been the youngest sister for a long time. She knew better than to say yes, because Kimberly had always been bossy. Rory was pretty sure motherhood wouldn’t change that. “You want to be the best mother you can be, and that’s understandable.”
“In other words, yes, but you won’t say so because I might go ballistic.”
“And into labor,” Rory conceded, “meaning I might have to deliver this baby in Mom’s kitchen, and you know how she prides herself on a tidy kitchen.”
Kimberly laughed. “Okay, change of subject. How’d it go today?”
Rory pretended to misunderstand. “School was fine, busy and adorable.”
“At Rosa’s, I mean.”
Rory winced. “It was like watching two bulls face off in an arena.”
“Did they paw the ground?”
Rory laughed. “They would have if it wasn’t concrete. I know I’m a little naive but we had it good here.”
“Amazing, actually.” Kimberly crossed to the refrigerator and found a box of brownies from Gabby Gallagher’s bake shop. She grabbed two, rethought her choice and settled for one, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be back for the second one in half an hour, which is why Rory’d had Gabby pack a dozen.
In the interest of self-preservation, Rory didn’t point out that Kimberly had entered the room while munching on a cookie. “I don’t know how a parent and child can be that antagonistic toward one another.”
“I’m six years older than you are, and I
can tell you that Rosa wasn’t always a nice person,” Kimberly reminded her.
“That’s the understatement of the century.”
Cruz suddenly appeared at the kitchen door with Mags.
He let the little Yorkie dash inside. “You could just ask me about it, you know.” He faced Rory, and she could feel her face flush.
“In fact, we have to talk about it,” he continued. “Before any decisions can be made concerning Lily and Javier, we both need to have all the facts. If my mother had her way, she’d let you believe that what you see now is who she is. What she is. But I know different.” He splayed his hands, palms out. “You and I need to talk, and we’ll need to bring your uncle in on the conversation because he wasn’t only our neighbor while I was growing up. He was the closest thing I ever had to a spiritual advisor. I’m pretty sure he won’t make me out to be the bad guy because if he felt that way, why would he have called me to come back here?”
“You had a spiritual advisor?” Rory didn’t try to mask the surprise in her tone, even though his reference to Uncle Steve made sense. Steve Gallagher would never give power to someone who might abuse it, which meant Cruz’s point was well-taken. “Because that’s not exactly in evidence now, either.”
He stared at the ceiling for several seconds, then dropped his gaze back to hers. Old angst, new anger, loss and sorrow. She read them all, not just in his eyes, but through the body language, the weariness, a full mix of emotions. “I’ve traveled a long path since my teenage talks with Steve.”
“Then perhaps there’s a shorter path back,” she suggested. “Forgiveness—”
He raised his hand to stave off her words. “We’ll talk later. Work has taught me that useless talk is just that. We need Steve on board, and possibly Judge Murdoch, too. So let’s wait till then.”
Precise. To the point. Obeying the letter of the law.
Rory generally found following rules to be annoying.
Children didn’t come with game plans, and in her five years of teaching, she’d learned that broken families often had multiple sharp edges. Smoothing those edges, laying a fresh path for children, was her expertise. Not his.
“Cruz, you want coffee?” Kimberly reached over and tapped the one-cup brewer. “Because you sure do look like you could use a cup. I’ll make a tea and we can take it outside and watch little kids dash around the yard and think back to when stuff didn’t get so muddled?”
Rory thought he’d blow her off. She thought he’d shrug his shoulders and go his own way, stern and immovable, so when he shot Kimberly a grateful look and said, “I’d like that,” Rory was more than a little surprised.
Rosa had revealed a lot about her son, and some about herself, but meeting Cruz—seeing him up close—she realized maybe Rosa’s spiel was more self-ingratiating. Maybe she was making herself look less onerous than she’d been.
Which meant Rory couldn’t take her current opinion at face value, because on one thing she and Cruz agreed: the safety and well-being of the children was the most important thing of all.
Chapter Six
Grilled cheese and tomato soup. It didn’t have to be haute cuisine, it had to be kid-friendly, and it was.
Kimberly had lectured her about the dangers of carb overload, but Rory ignored her and eventually her older sister left with a brand-new book entitled How to Be an Effective Parent tucked in her handbag.
Emily had come by with Dolly and Tim, her preschool twins, and those two little McCarthys ate as much as Lily and Javier did.
By the time Rory got the kids fed, washed and into bed, the idea of tackling the messed-up kitchen after fourteen hours on her feet was not appealing. She walked downstairs, heard Cruz’s voice outside and headed to the door. “Did you need me?”
He was watching Mags chase bugs around the yard, thick brown beetles emerging from the ground. “You’ve got to apply something to this soil or you’re going to lose half your veggies and all of your roses and dahlias.”
“How’s that?”
“Japanese beetles. They’re everywhere, and you said your parents were away last year, right?”
“Yes.” She nodded and came through the screen door. “Dad was going through cancer treatment in Houston. I know Drew sprayed something for them last summer and it seemed to help.”
“Except they managed to live long enough to lay their fertilized eggs in the ground. They’ve hatched, and now they’re going to emerge and quadruple the damage that happened the previous year.”
“You had Japanese beetles in your New York garden?” She colored her tone with doubt on purpose, and he laughed.
“At the vineyard. We specialized in grapes, but there was an entire garden maintained to provide fresh vegetables and fruits for the banquet tables for the in-season hosted events. And flowers. Truly magnificent flower gardens. For five months of the year we grew our own produce in the fields and the greenhouse, and that cut down the food budget by fourteen percent.”
“That doesn’t seem like a lot.”
He shrugged. “Take care of the pennies, the dollars will come.”
“Ben Franklin?”
He shook his head. “My father. No one knows where the saying came from, but it’s true. And fourteen percent is a solid return on investment. What do you make on your savings account?”
She laughed because she hadn’t had a savings account, well...ever. “You loved your father.”
He sent her a measured look that went beyond her statement.
“Are you trying to psychoanalyze me? If so, please don’t. I told you earlier, all you need to do is ask.”
“I thought I just did.”
He shook his head. “No, you made a statement of assumption hoping I’d corroborate it.”
“You are such a negotiator.”
He smiled then, and when he did his whole face relaxed. “True enough. Got time to sit? We can talk.”
“I’ve got to load the dishwasher and get it going and straighten up the kitchen.”
“I’ve done plenty of kitchen work in my time. Let’s go.”
She followed him up the walk. When he stopped and opened the door for her, she didn’t walk through. She stood there, knowing they were probably letting bugs in and not caring. “Are you really this nice or is this for my benefit?”
“I’m not known to be nice, I’m known to be tough, but since arriving in Grace Haven, I have noticed an increase in my pleasantries. This could spell disaster for my career. Happily, my associates back in Manhattan will never hear of it, nor will they encounter this side of me.”
“What happens upstate, stays upstate.”
He grinned at that as the door swung shut behind him. “I guess. You load and I’ll wash the stuff that won’t fit.”
“Because I should have run it this morning and forgot.”
“New role, new routine.”
He waited until she’d loaded what she could into the dishwasher, then filled the sink with warm, soapy water. When he thrust his hands into the suds, Rory was surprised again. “You’ve washed dishes before.”
“Lots more than I care to admit. I still do most of mine by hand. Not much sense in loading a dishwasher and having a load and a half per week. So I wash and dry.”
“Because you love to cook.”
“I like to cook,” he corrected her. “I love to eat. So you and I need to talk, at least a little, because while we’re in this together—” he motioned toward the stairs leading up to the kids’ bedrooms “—it’s a temporary arrangement and we need to be on the same page. First of all, I’d like to set up a schedule to get us through the next few weeks.”
“Go on.”
He frowned instantly. “You don’t like schedules.”
“They’re necessary, but I refuse to live by the clock.”
<
br /> His hands stayed submerged in the water while he stared at her as if she’d just dropped in from outer space. “Is this where you give me the ‘stop and smell the roses’ lecture, and if so, can we skip it and move on to how I should appreciate the small things?”
Rory picked up a dish towel and the first clean, wet plate and pointed it toward the back door. “Didn’t you just give me a lesson on roses? In light of that, I think you’ve got the edge on floral care, but when you’re dealing with little kids, sometimes you just roll.”
“Roll?” He scrubbed the tomato soup pot and didn’t look too impressed with tonight’s meal.
“Go with the flow.”
“I know what it means, but don’t children respond better to a sense of order?”
She couldn’t disagree with that, but his slightly imperious tone? That wasn’t her cup of tea. But he was washing dishes so she let it slide. “Consistency is important, but that doesn’t necessarily mean living by the clock. I think it’s more important to say what you mean so you don’t confuse issues.”
“No means no.”
“Yes.”
He smiled and she had to smile, too.
“Keeping it simple and direct works for me,” she went on.
“Okay, I get that, and I see your point, but we at least need a care schedule. Will you admit that?”
“Sure. I’ve got them in the morning, so if you could get your work done then, you could take over in the afternoon so I can tackle the paperwork piling up on my desk.”
“If I get them by twelve forty-five, that gives me a seven-hour workday if I hit the desk by five a.m.” He nodded, satisfied. “That’s doable for the short term, and I can catch up on anything I’ve missed at night.”
“So we share evenings?” She wiped the table down, and when he didn’t answer, she glanced up.
Big mistake. Huge. Because when he turned and met her gaze... When his eyes locked with hers, they were right back to that first handshake.
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