Love Inspired January 2016, Box Set 1 of 2

by Carolyne Aarsen

  “You won’t possibly let me forget,” Kim shot back. When he smiled, she wasn’t sure if she should smack him or hug him, which meant even though she had to work side by side with Drew for the coming weeks, she’d be keeping her distance. She’d had her fill of cops and cop types, and every time she looked at Drew she pictured Dave by his side. Laughing. Scolding. Teasing.

  But Dave wasn’t there anymore. She’d never apologized to her brother for dismissing his concerns before he died, and then he was gone and it was too late. Between her reality TV–style summer in Nashville and her father’s health battles, Kimberly couldn’t handle anything else. She tapped her electronic notebook. “Would you prefer I keep hard copy notes, as well?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The way he said it, as if deferring to her when the opposite was true, almost made her smile. And when he grasped his daughter’s hand and moved back toward the wide stone steps, the sight of father and daughter brought back good memories. Not enough to fully cloak the bad ones, but enough to bring a hint of peace to her heart.

  She’d relish that sweet peace for however long it lasted, which with a stubborn man like Drew might be five minutes. But it was five minutes she intended to enjoy.

  * * *

  “Next step—food.” Tara had hooked Kimberly up with a spiral-bound notebook. Drew aimed the car back onto Route 14 while she scribbled notes forty-five minutes later.

  “Do you really think that the florist, linen supply company, caterers and all the rest can keep quiet about this?”

  “They can. Will they?” Kimberly shrugged. “We’ll see. But if everything is being done under assumed names, the date is changed and the other venue on hold, we’ve got a good start. So back to food.”

  “You’re hungry?” Drew turned her way once he was headed north. “Because I’m starved, and I’m sure the kid could eat something. And Daryl’s hungry by nature.”

  “And not too proud to admit it,” Daryl assured them from the backseat.

  “Then let’s kill two birds with one stone.” Kimberly didn’t look up as she sketched something in the pages of the book. “Josie Gallagher’s got the best barbecue this side of the Mason-Dixon Line, and if you think we don’t know ’cue in New York, you’d be wrong. Let’s go get lunch, and we’ll check out her catering menu.”

  “For?”

  “The wedding, of course.”

  Drew winced. “I’m not sure that Shelby and her mother are the barbecue type.”

  “So now we’re worried about the bride all of a sudden.” He didn’t have to look sideways to know the look she aimed his way was less than friendly. “Bear in mind that half the guest list is from the South, and they love barbecue. And in country music, good old-fashioned food ranks mighty high. In any case, this is a moot point until we’ve had you guys taste Josie’s food. She’s on Fourth Street, right along the lakefront, just beyond the state boat-launching facility.”

  Drew knew that area. There used to be a funny old diner there, rustic and run-down as the owner aged.

  When he turned into the restaurant parking lot ten minutes later, the difference amazed him. “Great place.”

  “Right?” She turned and smiled at him. When she did, years rolled back, a bunch of friends, hanging out, grabbing a burger, having a swim. “Josie hired Jon Robilard to do the repairs and upgrades. He brought the whole retro/rustic look back to life.”

  “What is that smell?” Daryl breathed deep as he came around the car, and the look of appreciation on his face made Kimberly laugh.

  “That’s Josie’s way of welcoming you and your taste buds to Bayou Barbecue. Let’s go see what’s cooking.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Drew pulled the door open and held it as the rest stepped through. “Anything that smells this good has to be amazing.”

  It was. They sampled outlaw potatoes, baked to perfection and stuffed with sour cream, cheese and home-cured bacon. Brisket, sliced thin, perfectly smoked, fork tender. Ribs, full flavored and messy, served with a side of a warm, wet washcloth for a quick tableside cleanup. Cheesy corn casserole, an old-time favorite. Cajun chicken. Cajun fish. Pecan pie and home-churned vanilla frozen custard, a town treasure and secret. “Josie bought a franchise from Stan to produce his custard here.”

  “No way would Stan Richardson franchise out his business.” Drew’s dad and Stan’s son had been good friends before his parents had passed away. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Josie’s pretty convincing,” Kimberly told him, then waved her cousin over as the lunch crowd thinned. “Josie, come here and meet these guys, and if you have a minute, sit and talk with us about event catering.”

  “Coffee first,” Josie declared. She made herself a cup and brought a fresh pot to the table along with a tray with four mugs. “I no longer assume that tweens and teens don’t drink coffee because a lot of them do.”

  Amy laughed as she reached for a mug. “I love coffee and lattes.”

  “Children of a new millennium,” Drew muttered. He didn’t dissuade the choice of beverage, which might mean he was a terrible parent, but he’d been drinking coffee himself since age twelve. And he was doing okay. Most days.

  Josie sank into a chair, leaned back and sighed. “Crazy, busy lunch hour.”

  “You can say that again.” Daryl smiled at her as he motioned to the kitchen area behind the fast-paced call-in counter. “Best barbecue I’ve had in years. And I’ve had a lot of ’cue in my time.”

  Josie beamed. “I love hearing that. Thank you...?” She raised a brow, waiting for Daryl’s name, and Drew’s partner wasted no time. His quick appreciative smile said he was mighty pleased to meet her. Of course, the woman was quite good-looking, and that might have helped spike Daryl’s grin of appreciation.

  “Daryl Jackson.” Josie shook Daryl’s hand as he indicated Drew with a quick thumb in Drew’s direction. “We’re on consultation in the area for a couple of months, and I can already predict where I’ll be eating for the duration.”

  “Music to every restaurant owner’s ears.” Josie exchanged smiles with him, then turned to Amy. “I’m Josie Gallagher, Kimberly’s cousin. And you are?”

  “Amy Slade. This is my dad, Drew. And I have to agree with Uncle Daryl. That was the best barbecue I’ve ever had. In my entire life.”

  Drew cleared his throat, and Josie laughed. “My guess is you haven’t had as much as you think, but why not start with the best?”

  “Which brings me right back to the matter at hand,” Kimberly told her. “I’m bidding on a last-minute late-September function and I think a multicourse, down-home Southern barbecue would be amazing.”

  “As long as the hosts approve it,” Drew interrupted. “We don’t want to make assumptions on their behalf.”

  They didn’t? Because wasn’t that exactly what Shelby had empowered her to do? Make things work? And now Drew was flexing muscle in the other direction as if they needed to run things by the bride and her mother. Which Kimberly had every intention of doing, so why was he interfering?

  Oh. Wait. Because he was Drew Slade—that’s why. Bossy, assertive and a pain in the neck at the moment, no matter how good he looked in that ribbed black T-shirt and khakis. She sent him a long, cool look, an expression that she hoped telegraphed the feelings behind her words. “Of course, we need approvals, but there’s no way of getting them without pricing, is there, Josie?”

  “No, ma’am.” Josie looked from Kimberly to Drew and back again, then smiled. “Give me the specs, and I’ll draw up an estimate with a suggested menu for you by Monday. I’d promise it earlier, but we’re in the thick of boating and tourist season, and anyone who operates a business in the North knows you make money when you can, as you can.”

  “How soon would you need confirmation to be able to handle a crowd just shy of three hundred people in five weeks?�
��

  “I’d want firm numbers in ten days. I need time to order the proper cuts and smoke things appropriately. Do we need to do a tasting?”

  “Just did.” Kimberly’s smile said she thought Josie’s food passed with flying colors. “Awesome, as usual.”

  “Crazy Leon doesn’t let just anyone into his kitchen on the bayou, nor does he release you into the food prep world without making sure you can actually do the job.”

  “You worked for Leon?” Daryl hiked both brows, surprised at the mention of one of the barbecue greats. “My mama went to school with him back in the day. She said he was born with a spatula in his hand and a nose for combination elements.”

  Josie laughed. “That’s him, all right. I worked for Leon for eight years before I realized I couldn’t handle one more Cajun summer. Not when Canandaigua Lake was calling my name. I relocated here about four years back, and we’re doing okay.”

  “That makes three of you that came home,” Amy noted.

  Kimberly turned. So did Drew, Daryl and Josie.

  “Kimberly, Dad and you,” she continued, looking up at Josie. “It must be a pretty nice place to be if you all end up coming back, right?”

  “Except we’re only here on temporary consulting assignment, and Kimberly’s here because her dad is sick,” Drew explained. “Only Josie came back on a permanent basis.”

  “There must be something that calls people back, Dad,” Amy argued. “You read it in books all the time. You see it in movies. As if people kind of need to get away, but they leave part of themselves there. In their hometown. And then they come back.”

  * * *

  The kid had made a great point, so why were her words so tough to hear? Maybe because they were true. Kimberly slung an arm around Amy’s shoulders in a half hug.

  “I like your sentimental side,” she told her. “The opposite of your dad. And you know something I’ve discovered?”

  “What?” Amy looked up, interested. So did Josie and Daryl. Drew drew his brows together, frowning. Because she thought him dispassionate? Or because Amy was sentimental?

  “I forgot how nice this town is. The funny stores and mix of tourists. The traffic around The Square, the endless parade of people at the beach and the five old guys who hang out on the corner of Market and Vine, smoking cigars and playing cards while they watch the world pass by.”

  “You’re making a group of feisty old men into a selling point?” Skepticism marked Drew’s words. “That’s a stretch.”

  “It’s Grace Haven.” Kim shrugged. “I think when you’re away you get used to a new normal and you forget to appreciate how cool the old normal was. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “Well, Pretty Polly sure thinks enough of those fellows to make sure she strolls down Center Street every morning at nine-fifty. Unless it’s raining or a blizzard,” Josie offered, grinning.

  “You get blizzards here?” Amy’s voice hiked up. “We get a little snow once in a while in Jersey, but I’ve always dreamed of snowy winters. Sledding. Skating.”

  “Shoveling.” Drew looked unamused. He stood and turned toward the door as if he couldn’t wait to escape. “Josie, nice meeting you. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”

  “We’ll look forward to it,” Kimberly corrected him. “You’ve got my number, Josie.”

  “I’ll be in touch,” Josie promised. Kimberly would have to be blind not to see her cousin’s look of amusement. Amused at her? Drew? The whole situation?

  At the moment, she wasn’t finding Drew humorous, approachable or all that friendly, and that was gonna make for a long five weeks.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Amy likes Grace Haven.

  Drew got that. Amy had a case of small-town-itis, wishing for roots, although the snow lament was only because she hadn’t stood in the school-bus loop for ten minutes in a snow squall, freezing to death, or shoveled dozens of driveways to make a few extra bucks. Her snow info had been pretty much relegated to nonstop Christmas movies on the inspirational channel, hope and dreams decked out in red, green and staged snow. So she was loving the thought of her father’s hometown, while Drew was taking a deep breath with every old face he saw. In their eyes he read the timeline. They remembered him ramming around town, him and Dave, best buds, always together.

  And Dave was gone.

  He dropped Kim at the office and drove the SUV around to the Country Inn. As he exited the car, Kimberly’s words came back to him. He hesitated, glanced at Amy, then pulled out his phone to get the number for the bed-and-breakfast. On this point, Kimberly was right. If Amy was going to be in town for more than a month, it made no sense to have a hotel room on the highway when they could be right in the walking district. He called the B and B to check on vacancies and when the owner heard the time frame, Drew thought she squeaked in excitement. “Six weeks?”

  “At least that. And we’ll pay in advance.”

  “We’ve got room,” the woman declared. “I can have it ready for you about seven tonight. Is that all right?”

  “Perfect.” He turned to Daryl as he hung up the phone. “You okay with staying here at the inn?”

  “I am.” Daryl smiled down at Amy. “I think Amy will love living in town, in walking distance to everything—”

  “As long as she follows my rules,” boomed Drew in a voice meant to scare her silly.

  It did no such thing. She grinned up at him, looped her arm through his and hugged it. “I’ve never been able to walk anywhere on my own. Ever. Not in New Jersey, not in Manhattan. This is like a dream come true, Dad. A normal life, even if it’s just for a little while.”

  It wasn’t a dream come true for Drew, but that wasn’t important now. Amy was important. And Shelby’s wedding, keeping it flawless. If he had to face old demons, then it was time to face them. He thought he’d come to terms with Dave’s death, he’d have argued the point if asked, but coming back to Grace Haven and seeing old sights, sounds and people cut deep.

  Maybe they’re supposed to.

  He ignored the internal twinge and tossed Daryl a burner phone. “Let’s switch things up again.”

  Daryl pocketed the phone and headed inside. Drew checked his watch, saw they had over two hours until the B and B could accommodate them and pointed Amy to the car. “Hop in. I’m going to give you the grand tour.”

  “Really?” Excitement lit her voice, as if trolling around a one-horse Finger Lakes town was some big deal.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll love it, Dad!”

  Her eagerness made him smile. Top to bottom, stem to stern, she’d be in her glory because Grace Haven, New York, was small-town perfection. Safe, beautiful, historic, inviting... You name it, Grace Haven had it. Depth of beauty, something not every old town could claim.

  His words brought Kimberly’s face to mind. The beautiful Gallagher girl... That’s how he’d always thought of her, once she’d gotten past the pesky adolescent awkward stage.

  She was still pesky. But she’d only gotten more beautiful, and how was he supposed to not notice that?

  He didn’t have a clue.

  He took Amy on a rolling tour of the town, then paused by the water park. “If you cause no trouble tomorrow, we’ll get an evening pass and spend tomorrow evening here,” he promised. “But that means no trouble at all, kid.”

  She ticked off her fingers. “No hitchhiking, no drugs, alcohol, boys.”

  Drew firmed his jaw, his voice and his grim expression to the very maximum of his abilities. “No boys. Ever. Got it?”

  She laughed and hugged him. “They’re icky. Yuck.”

  She’d said the same thing for years, but one of these days—sooner, rather than later, no doubt—her eyes would be opened and she’d think boys were kind of cool.

  Dungeon time.

 
He just needed to be in a location with accessibility to old stone basements. Luckily almost every house in the village sported one of those, so he was in good hands for a while.

  “Can we walk?”

  “We sure can.” He parked the car in the shade, left it running to keep it cool for the dog, then took her hand as they strolled through the quaint, historic business district. “This is The Square.”

  “This rocks!” Amy stood in the middle of the town square and spun. “Cars actually go in a square pattern! Who thought of such an awesome thing? It’s like an old movie, Dad.”

  “I think a lot of old towns had squares or circles in the middle.”

  “Really? As awesome as this one?” She pointed in each direction. “Kimberly’s shop is there. Then there’s clothing, ice cream, bakery, bookstore, hardware store, jewelry, leather stuff.” She ticked off the rest of the shops on her fingers, amazed. “And a park in the middle of it all.”

  “It wasn’t quite this fancy when I was your age.” He sat on one of the metal-and-wood park benches and looked around.

  “No?” Amy took a seat next to him. “But the buildings are old, so they were here.”

  “They were, but a lot of the stores are different now. Artsy and trendy, filled with things to buy.”

  “Isn’t that the point?”

  He laughed because it was. “When I was a kid there were two accountants, a dry cleaners, a little drugstore, a print shop and two dentists added into the mix, so it wasn’t the surround-all shopping experience you see. This is like a fancy old-fashioned strip mall now, catering to the tourist’s pocketbook.”

  “That would be a lot different,” Amy agreed. “I like this better.”

  “So does the tourism council, I expect. When I was in college they actually officially named this area ‘The Square,’ and people come from all over to shop here. Except for midwinter, these shops probably do a killer business. Are you hungry yet?”

  She shook her head. “Too much lunch. Although I wouldn’t say no to an ice-cream supper.”