by Caroline Lee
“You only think of me as one of your daughters, old man,” she said with a grin, “because you can’t keep your daughters’ names straight, and I fit right in.”
He burst into laughter then. “You’re right! Roxane, Renae, Raina, Riley and Rachel! You do fit right in.”
“But I seem to recall you weren’t feeling very teasing when Roxie fell in love.”
He sobered. “Right again. But Ciran is a good guy, even if it took me a while to accept that, and marriage is forever. Never forget that, Rachel. Don’t commit until you’re sure.”
Her smile was indulgent when she plunked her tablet down on his desk. “If we’ve finished tearing my lack of love life apart, can we please get on with business?”
Bob’s eyes were still twinkling when he ran his finger along his list of things to discuss. They covered their usual topics: room maintenance, housekeeping issues, and the weekend’s occupancy projections. With autumn over and winter on its way, most of the hotel’s guests were people who’d come for the medicinal benefits of the local hot springs, and who stayed for the glorious relaxation the spa offered. On Saturday, they had a readers’ group from Spokane coming in for a spa retreat, and Rachel had already met with April Lynn to cover everything the group might need.
All in all, it was a typical meeting once Bob left off his teasing of her romantic exploits, up until the last bullet point, that is.
“Alright,” Bob said with a sigh, checking off something in his planner. “Where do we stand on the Engineering job?”
She’d been expecting this, and knew she had to give it to him gently. “I only posted the position yesterday, Bob,” she reminded him softly. “We have to give it time.”
“It’s the internet!” He shook his pencil at her. “A magical world of mechanically minded people just standing around waiting to jump on a chief engineer position!”
She hid her smile at his fanciful description. “If we lived in a big city, I’d probably have at least one applicant by now. But there’s a limited number of available engineers in the panhandle of Idaho. We’re going to have to give it a while.”
“ ’A while’ is simply something we don’t have,” he grumbled.
Bob was right. The Quinn Hotel and Spa currently had an engineering team of four, and though they all were capable in their own roles, they still needed a fifth person to run the team. Last week Lester, their chief, had quit unexpectedly when one of the other hotels in town had offered him an outrageous hiring bonus. The remaining four engineers were stretched thin; four engineers, at five shifts per week, didn’t even cover the requisite twenty-one shifts in a week. Luckily, the hotel ran well enough without an engineer on duty for the eleven-to-seven a.m. shift, so they were only worried about first and second shifts. But their four guys needed to have some overlap, so one would be on duty while another handled preventative maintenance and special projects.
And honestly, Rachel didn’t have the time, energy or interest to worry about engineering shifts. The chief should be reporting directly to Bob, but they didn’t have one! They needed a new chief to assign shifts and handle all the other supervisory business which came up. Two of the engineers were too inexperienced to consider promoting, the third, Jimmy, only wanted to work second shift, and the fourth engineer, Mickey—everyone called him Mickey Four Fingers, even though he had all his digits—had already stated he didn’t want a supervisory role. So that left Rachel to find a new chief engineer, and fast, or she’d be stuck doing the chief’s job indefinitely.
So she sighed in agreement with her boss. “I know. I’ll see if I can find a few other sites to post the job on.”
Bob was frowning down at his planner and hadn’t seemed to hear her. “I wish Andrew wasn’t so stubborn.”
The unexpected name jerked Rachel’s attention away from her own woes. “What?”
“Oh, sorry.” Bob’s brow was furrowed when he met her eyes. “My nephew, Andrew. Libby’s oldest. She’s older than me, married a man who lived over by Riston. Her two oldest don’t have much to do with our family, and no one’s really sure why.”
Rachel tried to force her pounding heart to calm down. Andrew was a common enough name; it was just coincidence her new dating partner shared a name with Bob’s nephew. After all, Bob had like twenty nieces and nephews, along with his own five kids. The Quinns believed in big families, and it was inevitable they’d use up all the common names, right?
Rachel cleared her throat, a little confused. “He’s stubborn?”
Bob’s little bark of laughter wasn’t pleasant. “You could say that. The boy—well, he’s gotta be close to forty now!—is an engineer, a darn fine one. Went to school for it and everything. He’s been working for the Westons over at River’s End Ranch since he graduated, and I’ve heard he’s kept that property together through a lot of emergencies.” Bob sighed and sunk lower in his leather chair. “When April Lynn and I bought this place, I tried to entice him away from Riston. Family should stick together, yeah? We needed an engineer, and I was happy to pay him what he was worth to get him to come back to his family.”
The way the older man twisted up his mouth told Rachel all she needed to know. Still, she asked, “He didn’t come?”
“He never comes to family events. Him or that sister of his. She’s got two kids, did I tell you that? But since her divorce, she never brings ‘em back home. Libby and Randall must see ‘em, I guess, but I haven’t seen those two kiddos since they were small. They’re part of the next generation of Quinns, and it’s a shame they’re not being raised back here in Quinn Valley!”
She was beginning to feel lost. “Wait, this is Andrew? Or his sister?”
“He’s got three sisters and a brother…Dusty. I think you know him?” Bob’s usual smirk was missing when he teased her.
Dusty McIver was this nephew’s brother? Rachel had never bothered to learn all the Quinns’ family relationships; there were more Quinns in Quinn Valley than she could shake a stick at, so it never seemed worth it.
“Yeah, I know Dusty.” Every single woman between the ages of nineteen and eighty-five knew Dusty, and had all probably been on the receiving end of that particular Quinn cousin’s gorgeous cowboy charm. There was a guy who knew what to do with a dimple! “And I remember him telling me about his twin sister and nephew.”
“Yeah, that’s Alyssa and Jeremiah, they live here in town. And so does Katie, their older sister. But the two oldest—Andrew and Heather—they don’t want anything to do with us.”
That was…sad.
Rachel had been in Quinn Valley for over a year now, and absolutely loved the place. She loved how everyone treated everyone else like family, even if they weren’t part of the far-flung Quinn clan. With every generation of Quinns having five kids—some type of genetic quirk or fairy magic or something—there were a lot of Quinns around these parts. And with only a rare few exceptions, every single one of them was open and loving and welcoming. As someone who had really benefited from the Quinn family’s sense of family, Rachel didn’t know why anyone who was already part of the family would want to avoid them.
“I’m sorry. That sounds rough on the rest of you.”
Bob was staring back at his open planner, but it was clear he wasn’t really seeing it. “I feel sorry for my parents, honestly. Andrew’s they’re oldest grandchild, and I know it hurts them he’s not here. And Heather’s two kids are their great-grandkids, and there’s only a few of those.” His frown deepened. “They haven’t come to any of the family get-togethers in years, but I know it would mean a lot to them—especially Pops—to see them there.”
Rachel hummed in agreement. “The holidays are coming up.”
“My parents always do a big Thanksgiving feast at the ranch, and everyone is expected to attend. Of course, Bobling hasn’t been there since he joined that special forces unit, but he always calls.”
Rachel had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from smirking at Bob’s ridiculous nickname for his only son,
even though everyone around town called the poor guy that.
But all she said was, “Thanksgiving should be a special time for the family to get together. It’s a shame not everyone can be there.”
“Oh, I’m sure Andrew could be there, if he wanted. He’s just stubborn.”
Ah, yes, bringing them back to how this all started. “Well, if he won’t even attend family dinners, I’m assuming that’s why he turned down the job to work for you?”
“Yeah, whatever his problem is, he’s not over it.”
Rachel released a sigh of relief. She was positive now her Andrew wasn't Bob’s Andrew. Her boss’s nephew sounded bitter and full of anger, the complete opposite of the Andrew she was meeting on Friday. She couldn’t imagine any reason why a person would choose to stay away from a family as wonderful as the Quinns, especially on Thanksgiving!
She cleared her throat, trying not to be depressed over this nice family’s loss. “I’m sorry.” Tapping a few points on her tablet, she saved and minimized her notes, then sat up straighter. “I’ll get this job listing posted to a few more places. If we can’t get anyone local by, say, November sixteenth—that’s a Friday—we can discuss what we can offer to bring in talent from farther afield. Deal?”
“Deal.” Bob’s smile wasn’t anything like its former self. “I know you don’t like being without a chief engineer, anymore than I do. We’re living on borrowed time here, just hoping nothing goes wrong that Jimmy or Mickey Four-Fingers can’t handle.” He sighed and closed his planner. “So I guess you know we’re all counting on you.”
I’m counting on myself.
Without a chief, Rachel’s job was twice as hard, and she dreaded to think what they’d do in a real emergency. It was just a shame Bob’s nephew didn’t know how desperate they really were. Maybe if she could track him down, he’d reconsider coming to interview in Quinn Valley.
Or maybe he really was too stubborn.
CHAPTER TWO
“I think I passed my reading quiz today.”
Sophie waited to make her announcement until after her brother finished regaling Andrew with a bit of eighth-grade locker drama. Knowing reading wasn’t his niece’s thing, Andrew smiled at the ten-year-old as he swallowed a bite of Heather’s winter vegetable curry.
“That’s awesome! I know you were worried yesterday, so I’m glad the studying paid off. This was the one on irony, right?”
She nodded and poked at the curry and rice on her plate. “Yeah. Verbal irony I can get, no problem.”
“Probably because she’s used to sarcasm,” her mother pointed out from the head of the table.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” her daughter fired back verbal ironically. Then she sighed. “It’s situational and…the, uh, other kind of irony I have trouble figuring out.”
Sean helped his sister out. “Dramatic irony. That’s where the reader knows more information than the characters in the story, so we know it’s ironic, even if they don’t. The character, I mean.”
Andrew was impressed at the kid for knowing that. But then again, words had always been Sean’s thing, and he did know a lot about drama.
Heather smiled softly at Sophie. “Didn’t you say you thought you’d passed the quiz?”
“Har-har, Mom. I’m pretty sure I did. We just had to identify which examples were what kind of irony, and I know I got the verbal ones right. So I just answered ‘situational’ to all the examples that weren’t verbal. I figure the only ones I got wrong were the ones which were actually dramatic.” She nodded firmly. “By my calculations, I should pass with around sixty-six percent.”
At this adorable evidence of her love for math, Andrew choked on his curry and had to grab his water to wash it down. His sister wasn’t as amused as he was though. Heather frowned at her daughter.
“A sixty-six isn’t exactly a good grade, young lady.”
Sophie just shrugged. “It’s passing. It’s math I’m good at!”
Sean paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “Reading gets easier, unlike math. I’ve got an algebra test on Monday I’m dreading.”
Far from discouraging her, Sean’s words made Sophie sigh happily. “Algebra. And I’m stuck doing stupid long division with the babies.”
Andrew hid his smile behind another drink of water. His niece had inherited his love for numbers, and his lack of interest in books, while Sean was the complete opposite. He got his love of reading from his mother, who was the school librarian for Riston Elementary, where Sophie was in the fifth grade and apparently chafing at the lack of mathematical challenges.
Before Heather could chastise either one of them, Andrew jumped to their rescue. “How are rehearsals going, Sean?”
Talking about the theater could always cheer his nephew up. And sure enough, the thirteen-year-old suddenly brightened and pushed his plate away. “Great! Mrs. Melbon says I play the best Baron VonTrapp she’s ever seen!”
Without looking up from her plate, Heather, feigning innocence, said, “I wonder how many times she’s directed Sound of Music?”
“Well…none. This is the first time.” Sean huffed and rolled his eyes. “But still. This show’s going to be epic. I can’t wait to see the sets! The show’s in three weeks, right after Thanksgiving.”
Andrew nodded even though he already knew the performance dates from the flyer the drama teacher had sent home. “I’ll mark my calendar.”
“I don’t think it can top Romeo and Juliet,” Sophie interjected. “Coach Holbrook did a good job with that one, even if you did almost have to kiss Kayla. And it was so cool how he had it set in the Old West time period, remember?”
Sean rolled his eyes. “It was our idea to change the setting. Coach was okay, but I’m glad Mrs. Melbon is off bed rest and can direct again. She’s better than her brother ever was.”
“At directing middle school theater anyway,” his sister clarified.
The boy snorted. “She just had a baby, Sophie. Of course he’d be better than her when it comes to coaching hockey!”
Seeing Sophie open her mouth to form a rebuttal, Andrew jumped into the conversation again. “Speaking of coaching, how’s Hockey Little League going?”
As he expected, his niece jumped at the chance to brag about her extracurricular activities. “Awesome! Coach Baker told me after practice yesterday that I made him glad he’d decided to coach the girls’ league too. I’m the fastest on the ice!”
“I believe that.” Andrew chuckled, thinking of her fierce competitive streak and utter fearlessness when it came to strapping on hockey pads. “I’ll bet everyone’s scared of you, aren’t they?”
Sophie snarled and held her hands up as if she were clutching her stick. “They should be!”
He laughed again. “I’m off Saturday, so I figured I’d take you to practice. Does that work?” he asked his sister.
Heather was fiddling with her spoon and frowning slightly. “You don’t have to do that, Andrew,” she said quietly. “I know you have your own life, and you don’t need to—”
Not this again.
“I told you,” he interrupted her, “you and the kids are my life. I consider myself blessed to be included, and I want to help.”
Unconsciously, his right hand moved to cover the spot on his left forearm. There, under the sleeve of his shirt, were his only two tattoos: Sean and Sophie’s names and birth dates. The tattoos were small and no one, besides himself and Heather, even knew they were there. His sister and her kids were incredibly special to him, and he wasn’t sure how else to make her understand.
He held his sister’s worried gaze for a long moment. Then her eyes dropped, just briefly, to where his hand rested. She understood immediately and nodded her agreement to his offer.
The two of them lived side-by-side in a duplex Andrew technically owned. He’d signed the papers the day Heather’s divorce had gone through, and it had been a cause for celebration when they’d moved in, even though she’d still been walking with a
cane then. Sophie had been only four at the time, and Andrew remembered the feel of her small arms around his neck as he helped her mother up the steps. Sean had been seven, and was already used to having to be much more mature than he should have been at that age. He’d saved his mother’s life, which is something no child should ever be put in the position to have to do, but it happened, and the boy would always be Andrew's hero. Most likely his mom's and maybe even his sister's someday, if she ever found out the truth of what happened that night.
In his lap, Andrew’s hand curled into a fist, the way it always did when he thought of Roger, Heather’s good-for-nothing ex. There’d never been another human being Andrew had wanted to beat so badly…but he’d refrained, because Sean had been watching. Andrew remembered standing there beside Heather, literally shaking in rage, and wanting to kill Roger so badly. But instead, he’d gotten his sister and her kids to safety.
When Heather had begun working again, she’d insisted on paying rent to Andrew, and he didn’t mind. He understood her need to feel independent and capable. He could afford the mortgage on his own—it’s not like he had anyone else to spend his money on, despite a string of first dates—so he’d been banking her rent money for the kids. When Sean and Sophie were ready for college, they’d find a nice fund waiting, thanks to their mom’s refusal to accept what she considered charity.
Andrew considered it family.
He smiled at his little sister, and she rolled her eyes at him. At thirty-six, she was as pretty as ever, and although her hair was a lot lighter than Andrew’s, they had the same green eyes. They also had the same sense of humor, and he thanked his lucky stars every day that he was able to spend this time with her. And that she allowed him to be a part of his niece’s and nephew’s lives as well
When her lips twitched mischievously, Andrew knew she was about to say something she thought he wouldn’t like.
“Practice is at seven, so you’ll have to leave here around six-fifteen to get there and get changed.”