Читать книгу Her Unexpected Family - Ruth Herne Logan - Страница 10
ОглавлениеI can’t break this appointment again, Grant McCarthy thought as he bundled the twins into their car seats. He’d already put the wedding planner off twice.
Timmy gazed up at him, round-eyed, then smacked him upside the head with a plastic truck. For a little guy, the two-year-old packed a mean punch.
Dolly squalled from the moment he started carrying her toward the car, as if being strapped in made her want to lash out irrationally. Being two and developmentally delayed, instant meltdowns had become a chronic reaction. While Tim looked on, Dolly blubbered nonstop, and pools of water seemed to come from everywhere.
“Dowwy’s sad.” Timmy gazed across the backseat of the minivan. His lower lip quivered in sympathy. His eyes started to fill, and Grant knew he had to act fast.
“She’s fine, Timmers, I promise,” Grant reassured his little son. He trotted around the front of the car, climbed in and started the engine. “She hates being tied down, that’s all.”
He smiled at Tim through the rearview mirror, but didn’t dare glance Dolly’s way. She’d stopped crying for the moment, but if he made eye contact, she’d start all over again. It was bad enough that his aunt came down with the same virus the twins had shared a few weeks ago, but to get it today, when he was supposed to meet with the wedding planner for his sister Christa’s wedding, spelled disaster. On top of that, Aunt Tillie had chewed him out for attempting to plan the wedding, take care of two babies and a house while running the town highway department. She told him he was downright foolish to even try.
At the moment, he was inclined to agree.
He drove into the shopping district of Grace Haven, New York, a quaint town tucked in the picturesque Finger Lakes region. He made a right turn into The Square. Originally a small-town hub surrounding a cozy central park, The Square was now a shopping destination beloved by tourists and locals. The predicted rain hadn’t hit yet, and he hoped for a roadside parking space along the popular series of shops.
Unfortunately, not a single spot was free, and that meant he’d have to maneuver both kids through the back parking lot once he got them unlatched and he was already ten minutes late.
He hated when people held him up on his job. Time was money and expectations in local government were high, just as they should be. But here he was, doing the exact same thing to whatever Gallagher sister they assigned him. As he hopped out of the SUV, he hoped it wouldn’t be the beauty queen. After his upscale wife had left him and two babies high and dry, he’d had enough of appearance-loving women to last a lifetime.
He snugged Dolly into his shoulder and ushered Timmy through the lot as fast as stubby toddler legs would go. The west wind bit sharp, a sure sign of the coming winter. Once wind and cold and snow hit full force, his road crews would work nonstop to keep the valley and upland roads safe for travel, a busy and sometimes frantic season for northern highway departments. And a wedding, on top of it—
But he was honored to help his sister. He loved her courage and tenacity. He loved her.
Timmy caught his foot on the edge of an all-weather mat as they stepped through the door. He sprawled onto the floor and burst into tears partially because he was brush burned, but mostly because it was nap time. The timing had seemed ideal when Kate & Company had suggested a weekend meeting. A Saturday afternoon, two kids napping, his aunt to babysit them and he’d take care of getting things going for his sister’s special day.
Wanna hear God laugh? Tell Him your plans. His mother’s old adage hung true, especially today.
He bent low. Allison Kellor noticed him from the gracious, formal entry facing the street. She offered a sympathetic wince as he stood, gathering Timmy into his free arm. He strode forward, carrying both toddlers, and crossed the elegant entry as if he belonged there.
“Grant McCarthy?”
He turned toward the voice and took a deep breath. The beauty queen, of course, looking absolutely, perfectly put together from the thick auburn waves of hair to the designer outfit and red high heels.
Doomed.
He didn’t belong there. She did. And maybe Aunt Tillie was right—maybe he was stupid to think he could handle spinning multiple plates in the air. A wave of negativity rose inside him.
He forced it down and faced the beautiful woman descending the curved, open stairway and said, “We made it.”
“So I see.”
For a split second he was tempted to make a run for it. But then the redhead came closer. She held out her arms. Normally effusive Timmy ducked his head, probably struck dumb by her beauty.
Her good looks weren’t lost on Grant. This woman was downright appealing and absolutely lovely. That gave him reason enough to maintain his distance. He’d spent years thinking appearances mattered, then one broken heart later, he learned they shouldn’t really matter at all.
“Ba.” Dolly peeked up at the woman and did something she hadn’t done in a long time. She opened her arms to someone other than him, Aunt Tillie and the occupational therapist that stopped by the day care facility twice a week. “Oh, ba.”
“Come here, precious.” The redhead didn’t seem to care that Dolly’s face was blotched from anger, tears and ghastly unmentionable things she’d smeared on Grant’s coat. Her little jacket was dotted with something unidentifiable and had remnants of vanilla wafer crushed into the zipper, but when the former beauty queen took her, Dolly wove two tiny hands into the prettiest red hair he’d ever seen and chortled. “Ba! Ba!”
“Red.” The woman ducked her head while Dolly explored her hair, then peeked up at the girl and pulled a strand of that long, gorgeous hair sideways for the little one to see. “Red hair.”
“Wad!” Dolly laughed, amused, as if the wedding planner got her joke.
“Miss Gallagher, I’m sorry we’re late.” He made a face of regret and nodded toward the clock. “We missed the first appointment because Dolly had that nasty upper respiratory virus that’s been going around. Then Timmy got it. And now, my Aunt Tillie—”
“Tillie Gibson, right?” she asked, and nodded toward Allison. “My mom and Allison handled her daughter’s wedding last spring. I heard it was wonderful.”
“They were thrilled with how it all came out,” he admitted. “And that’s what made me think of Kate & Company for my sister Christa’s wedding. She and her fiancé, Spencer, are both deployed, they’re pursuing air force careers, and I wanted to make this wedding nice for her. I know these aren’t exactly ideal conditions.”
The redhead frowned. “Not ideal conditions? Why?”
She acted as if she really didn’t have a clue and that made Grant drag a hand through his hair. It seemed thinner on top right now, and why would he notice that at this moment? Was it because of the drop-dead beauty standing there, holding his precious child and looking up at him with the most amazing bright brown eyes he’d ever seen?
Yes, which was ridiculous because he’d been out of the dating game for years and it wasn’t a game he ever intended to play again. “Well, the kids. With Tillie sick...”
“We’ll talk around them.”
She had to be kidding. He looked beyond her to the classy office that smacked of good taste, not sticky fingers. “Do you—”
“I’m Emily.” She kept Dolly snugged in her arm, looking quite comfortable with the child as she extended her right hand. “The middle one.”
Oh, he knew who she was all right. He might be ten years older than she was, but the whole town had watched and cheered as Emily Gallagher brought home first prize in pageant after pageant as a teen, then as a woman.
He glanced around, doubtful. “You really think this will be okay?”
“Pull up a spot on the carpet.” He wasn’t sure how someone could manage to sink to the floor gracefully while holding a messy toddler, but Emily Gallagher did it with finesse. Once down, she set Dolly on her bottom, then worked the cookie-crusted zipper from the jacket with nimble fingers. “Allison, can you do a quick sweep for anything reachable and breakable?”
“I’m on it. And here’s a pen so you can do hard-copy notes. We’ll transfer them later.”
“Post-babies!” She laughed, and when she did, Grant’s blood pressure dropped to a more normal level even though his heart sped up.
She wasn’t patronizing him. She wasn’t treating Dolly different from Tim, and for reasons he’d never be able to explain, Dolly had fallen in love with Emily at first sight, and Dolly didn’t like too many people.
“So.” She picked up the pen, flipped open the notebook and faced him as he and Timmy settled onto the floor nearby. “We talked about a February wedding on the phone. Is that still the plan?”
“January, now,” he told her as he worked Timmy’s jacket off. “The second Saturday.” The minute he was free of his father’s help, the little boy got up and raced around the spacious room.
“I’ll keep an eye out from here,” Allison promised from her area. “You guys see what you can accomplish.”
“You told me on the phone that Christa and Spencer are regular, straightforward people. Neither one likes too much glitz and glamour.”
“No, ma’am. They’re simple, hardworking types. Most of my family’s the same way.”
He must have sounded brusque, because her left brow rose fractionally, but her voice stayed matter-of-fact. “While several of the local venues close for the winter, most stay open as needed, making a January venue fairly easy to secure.”
“Of course the problem is, we run into storms, then.” He frowned, because in his line of work, weather always took primary consideration. “There’s no way around it, though. That’s the only time they can arrange leave together.”
“Have generators waiting...” she murmured as she made a note on the pad.
He stared at her. “You’re serious?”
“Of course. It’s sensible, right?”
“Yes, but—” He looked around the beautiful trappings of her mother’s business and shrugged. “You surprised me, that’s all.”
She paused her pen, looked him in the eye and held his gaze. “Pretty doesn’t mean nonfunctional.”
Ouch.
She’d nailed his opinion in one quick lesson, and while he was sure she meant well, he’d run the gamut with his wife of nearly nine years. Serenity had lived for appearances. Not so much at first. She’d been a local news anchor for the Rochester area and had been crazy popular. He’d thought she was happy.
She wasn’t.
As their economic status rose, so did her penchant for success.
They’d put off having children because the timing had never been quite right. Her job, his job, education, job security... And then suddenly they were pregnant with twins.
Grant had been ecstatic.
Serenity had looked trapped from the moment the stick changed color until the day she piled her suitcases and a picture of Timmy into her car and drove to a new job in Baltimore. He pushed the image aside.
“Backup generators would be great.”
“Do we want a church for the ceremony?”
“Christa has always loved the abbey your uncle runs. I ran the new date by him and he said it was clear, so I was thinking a two o’clock wedding. Is that a good time?”
“Perfect, especially with the decreased daylight in winter.” She made a quick note as Dolly tried to grab her pen. “Hey, you.” She laughed into Dolly’s sweet, round face and then up at him. “So that’s Tim.” She pointed to the little boy. “And this is?”
“Dolly.”
“Perfect!” She laughed and made wide eyes at Dolly. Dolly shrieked in delight, clapped her hands together and giggled out loud. “She’s like a little doll. Great name.”
“It’s really Dolores Marie for my mother,” he said. “I thought Dolly would be a cute nickname for her. My mother died before she was born, so it’s a nice way to carry on the family names.”
“It’s marvelous.” Dolly stood up, looking steady, but when she went to chase after her brother, she stopped and went from happy-go-lucky toddler to instant anger. She stuck out her lower lip, stomped her foot twice and glared across the room at her twin. When Timmy ignored her, she stomped again, scowled at her father and burst into tears.
Grant stood and carried her across the room, then set her down next to Timmy. He came back, sat down and waited for Emily to proceed.
“What’s she going to do when he moves?” Emily asked, and something in her voice tweaked Grant’s protective juices.
“Crawl after him. Or get mad.”
“Oh.”
One word. One tiny, two-letter word, but it was like he’d just been tried and convicted in the court of Gallagher. “You have a better way?”
She looked from Dolly to him, then said, “Walking’s always good.”
“She can’t,” he explained and thought he’d gain sympathy because even though Dolly’s chromosomal defects weren’t blatantly obvious to others, they were real enough.
Emily Gallagher did a slow, thorough look of him, then his daughter, then back. “You mean she won’t.”
“She’s afraid.”
Emily’s expression said she’d figured that out herself. “Won’t stop being afraid until she does it, I expect.”
Irritation mushroomed inside him, like it did every time someone expected Dolly to be normal. She wasn’t normal, not by society’s standards. He understood that, so what was wrong with the rest of the world? “You have kids, Miss Gallagher?”
She shook her head.
“But you know everything there is to know about kids, I suppose? Especially kids with Dolly’s condition?” He was tired of fielding questions from people who doubted Dolly’s diagnosis of Down syndrome, just because her face looked more normal than most affected children.
“Actually, I do,” she answered easily as she flipped the page. “I spent summers here, helping my mother, but my off-campus job during the school year was working in a children’s group home. I spent four years on staff there. We had several clients with limited abilities, some with Down syndrome, and I was honored to work with the wide spectrum of effect. I might have majored in business and fashion design, but I worked with therapists, clinicians and the kids. It’s scary for a normally functioning kid to take those first steps, too, but parents don’t discourage them.”
He hated that she made perfect sense, because Aunt Tillie had been telling him the same thing. Did he want Dolly to be stymied by her limitations? Or did he want her to reach for the stars?
He scowled, because this wasn’t open for discussion. He wanted his perfectly imperfect daughter to be safe. End of story. “Let’s get back to the wedding planning, shall we?”
“Of course.” She answered smoothly, but that was to be expected of a woman who used to field pageant judge questions with grace and a welcoming smile. She smiled now, but something in her eyes said he’d just flunked a test he didn’t even know he’d been taking.
* * *
Emily Gallagher was pretty sure she needed her life back, a life of fabrics and fashions made to flatter the everyday woman.
Schmoozing overprotective fathers hadn’t made her short list, ever. And yet, here she was, helping out with the family business because she was needed. She was fine with that part. It was the bridezilla factor she disliked, and in this case, the “brother-zilla.”
He’d looked downright appealing striding down that hall, toting an adorable twin in each arm.
Tall, strong and vigorous with dark wavy hair and gray-blue eyes. Out of place and yet perfectly natural as he lugged two toddlers into the reception area of her mother’s wedding and event-planning office. And yes...smokin’ hot, even though he was older than her by a decade.
Emily knew his story. Most of the town knew Grant’s story because he was a public figure. Head of the highway department and public works, he was the man in charge for blizzards, floods, road collapses and season-to-season road repair.
Privacy was nonexistent for town officials. She knew that firsthand, her father having been the town police chief for decades. Living center stage was one of the downsides of small-town life. The entire area knew Grant’s wife had walked out on him after having twins, one of whom had Down syndrome. And here he was, trying to juggle raising two kids and planning his sister’s wedding while she and her fiancé were deployed.
Sympathy welled within her, and she drew on that initial reaction when the guy caved to Dolly’s miniature temper tantrum.
Not her kid. Not her business.
Her sister Rory came through the back door just then. Mags, their mother’s spunky Yorkshire terrier, raced in with her. Mags spotted the kids, spun around in circles, jumped up on her hind legs and yapped hello.
“Does she bite?” Grant asked.
Emily raised her eyes slowly as Rory scooped up the Yorkie. “Only on command.”
He narrowed his gaze, holding hers, and she wondered if he was going to get up and walk out. He didn’t, but she was pretty sure he was tempted to. “Keeping these two safe isn’t an easy task, Miss Gallagher.”
“Whereas my dad always told us life was meant to be lived, challenge by challenge.”
He put up his hands as if conceding a battle. “Well, runway walking can be considered dangerous, especially in high heels.”
She froze.
So did Rory and Allison, as if they couldn’t believe what he just said. Even the dog paused, but then Emily burst out laughing. The thought that she still had to justify her Miss Rochester and Miss New York pageant wins years later was absolutely hilarious. Obviously, her years as a major department store buyer were inconsequential in her hometown. “Fortunately, wedding planning is rarely lethal, so we’re all good. What kind of budget are we looking at for Captain McCarthy’s wedding?”
He had the grace to look uncomfortable.
He reached out and steered Dolly away from the stairs. “My mother created a fund specifically for this wedding before she passed away.” He named a figure that allowed her some latitude, and as Emily went through the list of typical questions, he relaxed somewhat. Of course Rory and Mags were now amusing the toddlers, and that was a big help as Allison put the finishing touches on a planning board for an upcoming reception at an esteemed vineyard.
Emily laid out a bunch of brochures before him. “Mr. McCarthy, your job makes you uniquely familiar with the area.”
He nodded, but didn’t ask her to call him by his first name like a normal person would. She wasn’t sure why that irked her, but it did.
“Weather might go our way, or it might not. We’ve had some of our worst storms in January, ranging from blizzards to ice storms, to driving rain storms that caused road flooding,” she said.
“I can’t change the date.”
She acknowledged that smoothly. “I realize that, but I want you to have a clear picture as you make choices. Choosing a hillside setting can be lovely if it’s blanketed in snow, but horrific if we’ve got icy conditions and no one can get to the venue. Likewise, the lakeshore options are stunning, but a mild winter where the lake doesn’t freeze can cause road flooding if we get a storm that weekend. If your department has to close roads, it means no one can access the reception.”
“Gotcha.” He studied the brochures, then angled a look to her, and when he did, she had to remind her heart that he was a somewhat presumptuous jerk who overprotected his children, no matter how gorgeous his smoke-toned eyes were. “A town reception venue would be a better choice, don’t you think?”
She shrugged. “I hate to discourage you from the others, because they’re gorgeous, but it’s important for our clients to see the whole picture when they plan an event. On the other hand...” She slanted a smile his way, and for just a moment, he held that look, almost as if interested...which was completely preposterous, of course. “You are the head of the highway department, your people are skilled at keeping roads clear and the few mishaps that have occurred are rare. So now it’s up to you. Shall we set up a time to go see some of these lakeside venues? I’ve got Monday free. Is it possible for you to get some time off?”
“There’s no availability to see them on a Saturday?”
She shook her head. “Fall and the holidays are crazy busy. They’re booked solid. We could arrange for evening visits if time off is difficult. I can call the ones that interest you, arrange a food tasting and a tour.”
“What evenings are you free next week?” he asked.
She should lie.
She should pretend to be crazy busy with a social life that overflowed into the following year, but the fact that she had every single night free was her new reality. “I’m available Monday through Thursday.”
He scanned the brochures, then handed three back to her. “Let’s check these first. I’d take the day off but Norm Pinkerton is out for knee surgery and he’s second-in-command. I really can’t take any vacation days for a few weeks.”
“Evenings are fine,” she assured him. “I’ll make arrangements. Our local venues hunger for business in the winter. They’ll offer us price concessions we’d never get in the busy season, and they’ll throw in extras to tempt you to sign with them.”
“I love a great deal,” he admitted. “But won’t that just muddy the waters?”
“Not with me on board.” She filed the brochures he’d chosen into a folder and started to stand.
He beat her to it, stood and reached down a hand to help her up.
Hand in hand, he pulled her upright, then steadied her with his other hand at her waist.
Electricity buzzed. The lights might have dimmed, or flashed or maybe they did nothing at all, maybe it was just the feel of her hand wrapped in his. Warm, solid, strong, yet gentle, as if he was the kind of man who was strong enough to be gentle.
Back away. He thinks you’re an airheaded beauty queen, and he’s kind of a jerk, so pretend you felt nothing and do your job.
She obeyed her conscience happily. Grant McCarthy may have traveled a tough road since his wife left, but she’d been handed a similar set of walking papers from her rich, self-absorbed ex-husband, and she wasn’t a jerk about it.
She slipped her hand away, pretended his touch had no effect on her and took a firm step back. “I’ll set these up and let you know the details. Do you prefer phone or email contact?”
“Email’s fine.”
Of course it was. Why would he want any more human contact with her than absolutely necessary?
She nodded, tapped her folder and moved toward the stairs. “I’ll send you times as soon as I have them.”
“I’ll be watching for them.”
She heard Rory laugh and chat as she helped Grant get the twins’ jackets fastened, and as the upstairs glass door swung silently shut behind her, she paused, wishing she could go back and help with those two priceless children.
She knew that kids with disabilities did better with high expectations. The thought that Grant McCarthy was content with babying that little girl made her pulse race.
Of course, when he’d held her hand her pulse raced in a different way, but she chalked that up to reading too many romances lately. Since coming home a year before, she’d avoided dating. She was back in Grace Haven on temporary assignment, to help her parents in a time of need. Her father was fighting brain cancer, and her mother’s popular event-planning business was funding the cost of experimental treatments in Texas. To keep the business going, she and her sister Kimberly had stepped in to help.
Kimberly was a natural at wedding planning. She’d learned the business alongside their mother, and with her parents’ impending retirement, it was natural for Kimberly to step into the role of running Kate & Company.
Emily was more at home on the wedding-gown end of things. Outfitting a bridal party, choosing materials and coordinating an entire look of a wedding came naturally to the former department store women’s fashion buyer.
Dealing with the chronic back-and-forth of event planning drove her a little crazy. It stifled her creativity. But if it helped her father’s prognosis, she could be crazy for however long it took.
But then—what next?
She had no idea, but she was pretty sure it wouldn’t be here in her hometown. She didn’t want to step on Kimberly’s toes, or be given a job out of sympathy.
She wanted respect. The respect she’d been denied in marriage, the respect she’d been denied professionally when her ex-husband’s father dismissed her from the company. Grant McCarthy’s cutting remark voiced what too many felt, that pageants were nothing more than pretty girls on parade. Her titles had paid for her education, and given her inroads with top designers, but that didn’t alter some opinions that pageants were nothing but fluff, and that meant the contestants were, too.
At what point would she stop feeling the need to prove herself and just be Emily?
Her parents had been proud of her pageant success, so Grant McCarthy could just stifle his negativity. She didn’t need it, didn’t want it and wasn’t about to put up with being anyone else’s castoff, ever again. Not personally and not professionally.
