by Jami Alden
"It's really good," Anthony said around another bite.
"Brady's a really good at his job, even if he is a little surly," he said to Ellie. Then his gaze strayed back over to Anthony, and there was a subtle furrowing of his brows.
What was going through his mind? Was he looking at her son and wondering, as she often did, what the child they'd once talked about having would look like?
Whatever he was thinking, she would never know. "I need to run something by you," he said, directing his attention to Molly and Adele. "Brady, get out here," he called. "This affects you too."
And apparently my opinion counts for nothing, she thought sullenly as she sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest.
"I just got a call from Jane—"
"You mean award winning actress Jane Bowden?" Molly broke in eagerly, unable to keep the giddy tone from her voice. She and Ellie had been huge fans of Singles, the sitcom that launched Jane to stardom, and it delighted both of them to no end that she'd ended up married to someone who grew up in their hometown.
"Just think," Molly had said when the news first broke about Jane’s marriage to Deck a year ago, "if things had worked out differently, you and Jane would be practically related."
Instead at that time Ellie was busy being interrogated by the FBI as they sought to discover whether she knew anything about Troy's illegal activities.
"I remember who my sister in law is," Damon said, deadpan, but Ellie didn't miss the quirk of his lips as he gave Molly a sidelong look. "And she wants to surprise Deck with a surprise birthday party in Big Timber. And she wants to have the party here."
Molly's eyes went wide, and she gave a little shake of her head.
Meanwhile, Adele's eyebrows went up to her hairline, mirroring Molly's skeptical look. "That's just a month away," Adele said carefully. "And we've never had an event like that—"
"What are you talking about? We host the Rotary Club holiday lunch every winter," Damon pointed out.
"The people from the Rotary Club aren't used to staying at the Ritz and eating at Spato's every night—“
"Spago's, Mom," Molly said with a roll of her eyes. "Look, I know Jane likes it here, but I just don't know, hosting that sort of crowd..."
"Jane said she wanted to keep it small, no more than one hundred guests," Damon said. "And since the store can pretty much manage itself I can put in most of my time here and help out however I can."
"And it would be great publicity for the restaurant," Ellie pointed out.
"Jane won't want the press to know," Molly said.
"Not the day of, of course," Ellie said, "but I'm sure she won't mind after the fact. If she's as nice as she seems, I'm sure she wouldn't mind letting us use some pictures from the event to help market the café."
"I don't like that word, event," Molly said with a grimace. She turned her attention to Deck. "You know I don't want to say no to Jane, but with everything I'm dealing with trying to plan the wedding, I'm not sure I can pull it off."
Damon opened his mouth to protest when Molly gave a quick shake of her head. "Wait, what am I thinking?"
She turned to Ellie, and uneasiness surged at the gleam in Molly's eye.
"Mom and I might not be able to pull off a party like this, but you totally can!"
Ellie's head snapped around. "Me?"
"Yes," Molly said firmly. "Talk about great timing - you are the perfect person to do this."
What the? Of course she'd planned to help out at the restaurant as much as possible. Well she had until Molly had dropped the bombshell that Damon was now part owner. "I don't think it's a good idea to work—"
"You're not planning to work?" Molly cut her off in an uncharacteristically sharp tone. "No offense, El, but if you're going to crash with Mom, don't you think you should pull some weight?"
The words hit Ellie like a punch in the gut.
Her hurt must have shown on her face. "I'm sorry," Molly said quickly, "that didn't come out the way I meant."
"Really? How did you mean it?"
"I just meant we need your help. You're used to throwing parties for these high society types."
"It was nothing like this—"
"Come on, Ellie, I saw the pictures in Town & Country of the fundraiser you threw for that congressman. This should be a piece of cake."
Ellie didn't bother explaining that it was different planning an event like that when you had full staff available to delegate to. "I don't know. It's not just the party itself. What about the menu? It doesn't matter that we're a small town restaurant," she said, grasping at any excuse she could think of, "they're going to expect a certain level of quality."
"I'd put Brady's cooking up against any chef in Hollywood," Molly retorted.
Brady let out a rough sound that Ellie wasn't entirely sure was a laugh. "Holy shit, did she just give me a compliment? The devil must be growing icicles on his sac right about now."
Molly's blue eyes narrowed in a glare. "Don't get used to it." She turned back to Ellie. "You said yourself it's a great marketing opportunity for us. Can't you help us take advantage of that?"
Ellie was backed into a corner, and she knew it. She turned to Damon. "What do you think?" She said, a challenge in her voice. He may have been willing to saddle himself with her family, but surely he could see that it was a bad idea for them to work closely together, even for a short period of time.
He was silent a few moments, a cool, calculating look in his eyes that she knew instinctively didn't bode well for her. "I think it's a great idea. Like Molly said, you're the one used to entertaining the big wigs, not the local hicks like us."
Ellie cursed her fair complexion as she felt her cheeks flame. But she saw the challenge in his eyes and she'd never been one to back down. "Fine," she snapped. "I'll do my best to throw Jane and Deck the party of their dreams."
Damon nodded curtly. "I gotta run over to the store to help set up a new display but I'll be around tomorrow. In the mean time I'll have Jane call you to tell you exactly what she's got in mind. Sound good?"
"Sounds great," she replied tightly.
The door had no sooner closed behind him than she wheeled around on Molly. "Are you insane?"
"What?" Molly said, widening her eyes. With her smooth peaches and cream complexion, big blue eyes, pale blonde hair and delicate features, Molly could do the wide eyed innocent thing like nobody's business.
Ellie hadn't fallen for it in decades. "Don't give me that look," she snapped. "It's bad enough you and mom took him on as a partner without telling me—"
"We needed help, and it wasn't like we could ask you for money." Molly shot back.
"We didn't tell you because we didn't want to add to your stress," Adele interjected.
"Oh, so much better, then, to spring it on me cold the first day I'm back in town."
Molly and Adele both lowered their gazes guiltily.
"And then to throw me into this event where I'm going to have to work with Damon every day?"
"Mommy, can I have some more fries?" Anthony said, oblivious to the tension radiating from her.
"Sure, sweetie, let's go ask Brady." Glad for the excuse to escape, Ellie took him by the hand and led him back to the kitchen.
Unfortunately Molly wasn't finished yet.
"You were the one who left, Ellie," she said, slamming into the kitchen after her. "You dumped him. If anyone should have a problem with it, it's Damon."
Ellie's throat tightened as she bit back a protest that while she did bear a good amount of the blame, it wasn't that black and white.
Brady's gaze was fixed on the board where he was chopping a small mountain of onions. If he knew anything about her past with Damon, he wasn't letting on.
"Look Ellie, the bottom line is that we need help with this, and you have way more expertise in handling an event like this. And I need a break," Molly said in a pleading tone, pinning Ellie with a look that had never failed to get her to give in to her little sister o
n anything, whether it was loaning her a favorite dress or giving up her last piece of Halloween candy. "You know I'm trying to plan the wedding, and I swear to God if I don't get Josh to the altar by Christmas I'm afraid it will never happen," she said with a weak little laugh.
She might have been able to resist if she hadn't heard that laugh, the fear and doubt that underscored the forced mirth. For better or worse, Molly had been chasing after Josh Patton since middle school.
"Oh and what a tragedy that would be, to lose a prince like that," Brady muttered, leaving no doubt of his opinion of Josh.
Though she adored her little sister, secretly Ellie had to side with Brady on this one. As far as she was concerned, it didn't bode well for a future together if Molly had to corral him to the altar. Though she'd long since given up on trying to change Molly's mind about him after running up against that brick wall dozens of times over years.
And to be fair, given her experience with marriage, she wasn't in any position to give anyone advice on their love lives.
"I'll let you know when I need your opinion, soldier boy," Molly said in snide tone Ellie hadn't heard her sister ever use before.
It had to be stress, she thought, both from keeping the struggling restaurant afloat and planning a wedding with a fiancé who didn't seem to have much interest in making it to the altar. Ellie had been so wrapped up in her own problems she hadn't even realized how much her sister was struggling.
"You're right—you do need a break. I'm sorry I forget sometimes how hard you have to work to keep this place going. And if you need any help planning the wedding, I can do that, too."
Molly smiled and grabbed her in fierce hug. "Thanks. For now you can promise to be my maid of honor when the time comes. "
"Anything."
"So does that mean you can help Mom out tonight so I can meet Josh over at the Foundry?"
"So your man can treat you to a reheated TV dinner? You must feel like a queen," Brady's gravelly voice came from behind the counter.
"Why don't you mind your own fu—"
Ellie jumped in before Anthony could learn any new vocabulary words. "Of course, I'm happy to help. Now go," she said with a shooing motion.
As the door swung closed behind her sister, Ellie turned to Brady. "What the—"
Her question died as she saw Brady staring at the place her sister had just stood, a faraway look in his stormy gray eyes. Like he was searching for something. Like he was yearning for something.
"Mommy, fries!" Anthony's insistent bellow echoed through the kitchen.
"Manners!" she said, as Brady seemed to snap out of his trance.
"Coming right up, buddy," Brady said as she leaned down to remind her son exactly how one asked for something.
She intercepted the plate of steaming fries, holding it over her head until Anthony offered up the proper 'pleases' and 'thank yous,' and even threw in a 'sir' for good measure.
As Anthony dug into his fries, she leaned a hip against the stainless steel countertop while Brady went back to hacking up the onions on the other side.
"Anything I can do?" she asked after several moments.
Brady paused his rapid knife strokes. "You serious about that offer?"
She shrugged. "Feels weird to be back here and not working on something."
"Those carrots need to be washed and cut up for the soup tonight," he said pointing his chin at a crate full of dirt coated carrots with their tops still on. “You know how to do a jardinière?"
Ellie did a mental search of all the cooking knowledge she'd gleaned from her mother and an addiction to Top Chef. "I think so. It's like little sticks, right?"
He grunted in what she assumed was affirmation and went back to his onion. As she cleaned and cut up the vegetables she found herself curious about this rough looking army vet who threw casually threw around French cooking terms.
"Did you go to culinary school?"
"Just for a year. Right after I got out of the army."
"That's how you and Damon know each other."
"Yep. Met the first day of basic."
Thirteen years. He'd known Damon for the thirteen years when his absence in her life was like a yawning black hole in her chest. Though she tried not to indulge it, she was wildly curious about what his life had been like since the day he'd left her house under a cloud of hurt and anger.
"Army, like you were a soldier?" Anthony burst in, and Ellie told herself she welcomed the interruption. Another couple of seconds and she would be asking Brady all manner of probing questions about Damon she had no business asking.
"Exactly like that," he said with a fleeting smile.
"Cool," Anthony breathed, dark eyes shining with hero worship. Despite the fact that Anthony and his friends in New York were strongly discouraged from playing with toy guns or engaging in what his teachers had obliquely referred to as combative role play, he was, like most five year olds, obsessed with anything having to do with guns, soldiers, and war.
"I was an Army Ranger," Brady said and tugged up the sleeve of his T-shirt to reveal a tattoo of menacing black skull with two crossed swords. "So was Damon who you just met."
"What did Auntie Molly mean when she said you dumped him?"
"What?" Ellie replied, startled. She supposed she should be used to Anthony's rapid changes in topic, but she still found herself the victim of mental whiplash at least once day with him.
"Damon. She said you dumped him."
She felt her cheeks flame as Brady abruptly turned around and made a big production of pulling a huge stock pot from the rack above his head and setting it on the stove with a metallic clang.
"It's just something grownups say, sweetie," she said, attacking the bunch of carrots in front of her. "It's nothing you need to worry about."
"Is it like you put him in a dump truck and hauled him away?" Anthony pressed.
Brady's harsh chuckle cut off the reply forming on her lips. "I imagine that's pretty much what he felt like, kid."
Chapter 3
The muscles across his back burned as Damon swung the sledge hammer again. It landed with a satisfying crash against the tile that surrounded his living room fireplace and continued out three feet onto the floor where it met the polished maple boards.
He braced himself against the shock of the blow, rippling up the muscles of his arms, shoulders, grunting as he swung the heavy tool back for another blow.
He paused at the sound of his front door slamming heavily, followed by the sound of footsteps tapping down the short hallway that led to the kitchen.
"Damon, where are you?"
"In the living room, Mom," he called, stifling a sigh. As much as he loved his folks, sometimes he wished his mother didn't feel quite so comfortable walking into his house unannounced. But when it came to her boys, boundaries were the last thing on Vivian Decker's mind.
"I brought you some cookies," she said. "Oatmeal chocolate chip. In case you needed cheering up." She walked through the archway that led from the small dining room into the living room and stopped short when she saw the pile of ceramic shards that had once been the border to his fireplace.
"I don't need cheering up," he said as he reached for the beer perched on an end table nearby.
"Oh yeah, so that's why you took a sledge hammer to your fireplace?"
He took a sip of his beer and shrugged, deliberately casual. "I always hated the brown, you know that."
"And you thought today of all days would be the perfect time to start this particular renovation?'
"Why not? It's the middle of summer. I'll have plenty of time to get it finished before the weather turns cold again."
"Really?" she asked, cocking a dark, arched eyebrow as she set the plate on his coffee table. She picked her way over to him, careful to avoid the bigger tile chunks in her sandaled feet.
She squared off against him, arms folded across her chest. "So you're telling me you wanting to smash through walls doesn't have anything to do with the fact
that Ellie Tanner arrived in town today?"
Though she was tall for a woman, he still had a good eight inches on her and she had to tilt her chin to look him in the eyes.
"Of course not," Damon said, mirroring his mother's folded arm stance as he held her dark, intense gaze that she said she wasn't buying his bullshit for a minute. Once upon a time, that look would have had him caving in seconds, dropping a dime on himself for infractions he hadn't even committed yet.
Now he forced himself not to flinch under that probing stare, reminding himself he was no longer an eleven year old with a guilty conscience over stealing a candy bar from the Gas N Go.
Just as he was no longer a foolish eighteen year old, so high on hormones he was too stupid to imagine a future that didn't have Ellie Tanner—no, she was Ellie Franklin now—playing a central role.
"So you're telling me you didn't feel anything when you saw her earlier today at the restaurant?"
"Adele must have tripped over herself getting to the phone," he said, reaching once again for handle of the sledge hammer.
Muscle memory, he told himself. That was the only explanation for the way his heart had seemed to seize in his chest at the first sight of her. The way it seized in his chest now at the memory of her drawn, too thin face, her eyes shadowed and devoid of the spark he remembered.
It was the only explanation for that nearly overwhelming urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her until her frown disappeared, promise her he was going to make everything okay, the way he always did.
It was only natural, he told himself, since from the second he'd met Ellie to the second she ripped out his eighteen-year-old heart and left it bleeding on the ground, Damon had lived and died by the tilt of Ellie's smile.
"Yeah, and she told me you're going to be working with Ellie on this party Jane's throwing for Deck."
"So?" he said as he hefted the hammer over his shoulder and slid his safety glasses back in place. This renewed urge to pound something into smithereens had nothing to do with the prospect of working side by side with Ellie for the next several weeks. "You might want to step back."
"So if you saw Ellie, you must have met her son. Cute kid, isn't he?"