Читать книгу An Unexpected Groom - Ruth Herne Logan - Страница 12

Chapter Three

“I can’t believe you talked him into it.” Drew made sure Kimberly heard the approval in his tone. “I’m impressed.”

She shrugged as she fastened her seat belt and checked her lipstick. She pulled out some shade that looked like ripe, sweet cherries and applied a fresh coat.

Drew’s pulse ramped, but this was Dave’s sister. Old angst and harsh feelings lay solidly between them. Ogling her beautiful mouth and her pretty smile didn’t make the short list.

“You knew he’d cave.”

“I knew he’d see the common sense of the situation,” she corrected him as she put the lipstick away. “Uncle Steve’s ministries are very important to their congregation, and money is crucial to aid. He knows my parents are in a rough spot with a lot of unexpected out-of-pocket expenses, so making one exception to help Mom’s business, the next president’s daughter and the bottom line of the mission collections was a no-brainer. While he’s a great preacher—”

“Always was,” Drew noted.

Her smile said she agreed. “He comprehends that little gets done in Indonesia without funds, and the price tag on Shelby’s wedding will keep those three churches and a clinic running for a year.”

Drew whistled, then he stopped the car. “Look.” He waited while she lifted her gaze, and the smile he’d hoped to inspire said she remembered this location from two decades before.

“We spent a lot of time racing up and down those hills,” he reminded her.

“That old toboggan was a death trap,” she remembered. “But not nearly as crazy as those circular sleds that went like lightning. How did we survive?”

“The way most kids do, I suppose.” He studied the long sloping hill and pointed left. “Do you think Harv still makes the best hot chocolate?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t gone sledding since...” Her voice tapered off. Her smile diminished.

Drew read the timeline. She hadn’t gone sledding since Dave died. Neither had he. He’d gone off, striving to fill his life with all kinds of things, but in the end he realized he’d totally become a mess-up and that was that.

And then Rick Vandeveld hired him to do security for his online trading facility downstate. Rick had believed in Drew long before Drew believed in himself again. “Amy would love this.”

“What kid wouldn’t?” She turned and asked the question he knew was coming. “When did you get married, Drew? Because I never heard a word about it.”

It was time to come clean on an old indiscretion. “I didn’t.”

“Oh.” She stared at the old sledding hill. “Well, Amy’s beautiful and smart and so much like you that it’s like having a feminine version. She looks like a princess, but she’s got a warrior mentality.”

“She does.” He gazed at the sledding hill, too. He started to speak, then paused. Kimberly didn’t need to hear his tale of woe. She had her own worries. Life had dealt her a rough couple of months. He was pretty sure she could use a break. He knew he could. “And I have no idea what I’m going to do with her while we’re here. She was supposed to be at camp and then back at school.”

“She didn’t sound all too thrilled about the idea of boarding school.”

“That was just for this term, while Rick gets situated in Washington, but obviously that plan’s been tossed. I’m due back at V-Trade the first of the year, running security.”

“And V-Trade is?”

He couldn’t believe she hadn’t heard of them, which meant he’d talk to Rick about targeting investment-minded women with better-placed advertising. “Online trading corporation. We specialize in cutting out the middle man by using low-priced trading software. We’ve got offices in Manhattan and just outside of Newark.”

“Crazy population density.” She lifted her eyes from the sprawling hill to his. “Doesn’t that feel weird after growing up here?”

He couldn’t deny it, but the frenetic pace of Manhattan had helped heal old wounds. He hadn’t had time to think about them, much less let them fester. “It was a gradual upward climb. That helped. And maybe being so different was good therapy. Rick started small, the business mushroomed and I was along for the ride. Then he became the state senator. And now?” He tightened his jaw. “Rick’s been on a fast track for years, but there’s a part of me that’s ready to slow things down.”

“For Amy’s sake.”

He eased the car back onto the road. “For both of us. It’s time for Team Slade to plant some roots. I don’t want her entire childhood messed up by my constant comings and goings.”

“Who watches her when you’re home?”

“My neighbor. She’s a nice woman—bakes cookies. And she loves Amy. But she and her husband are relocating to Florida this year.”

“Making it the perfect time to make a change.”

He’d thought the exact same thing. “Yes. Moving is hard on kids, but Amy’s resilient. And as you noticed earlier, she’s not exactly feeling the whole ‘in crowd’ thing when she’s farmed out to upscale venues.”

“I got that. So let me make you an offer.”

“I’m listening.”

“Let Amy hang out with Emily or Rory or Allison at the office when you and I are working on something where she can’t tag along.”

“That’s—”

She must have sensed his quick refusal because one hand—one soft, sweet hand—touched his mouth and he quieted down right quick as she spoke for him. “That’s a great idea, Kimberly. Amy will love learning about bridal parties and planning, and I won’t have to worry about her.”

She moved her hand, but the summer scent lingered, making him think of sandy beaches, bonfires and coconut-scented sunscreen. And Kimberly. “You really think that would be okay?”

“I know it would be okay or I wouldn’t have offered,” she replied sensibly. “Rory’s doing volunteer work for migrants when she’s not helping us. She’s running a summer pre-K program over in the elementary school.”

“A missionary at heart, like your uncle Steve.”

“Yes. I’m sure Amy would enjoy helping with the little kids each morning. It’s only got a couple more weeks, but that would keep Amy busy half the day, and the other half could be at the office. Problem solved.”

“You’ve gotten bossier as you’ve matured.” He liked that about her. Kimberly had always been the go-to Gallagher, the one who planned her work, then worked her plan. “No wonder you’re so good at what you do.”

* * *

Drew’s words hit two distinct notes. She was good at her job, and she had gotten bossy. She didn’t always like that side of herself, but quick decision making had been a mainstay for years. “A necessity when making quick assessments.”

“Amen to that.”

“Where are you and Daryl staying?”

“The Country Inn.”

“Might I suggest moving to the B and B on Iroquois Avenue?” She turned to face him. His profile, older, more mature, more focused than she remembered, but dear in its familiarity even when she didn’t want it to be. “You’d be right in town with a great view of The Square and the water. Everything is within walking distance. And that way Amy can duck back to her room now and again if she needs a break.”

“Alone?” He pulled the car into the Abbey’s empty parking lot and turned. “Not gonna happen.”

“How old is Amy?”

“Eleven.”

“What were you doing in Grace Haven at age eleven, Drew?” She knew the answer, and his grimace said he got her drift. At age eleven he and Dave had had village paper routes, they’d drummed up quick baseball and soccer games at the town park and had ridden their bikes wherever two boys wanted to go. “I rest my case.”

“Amy wasn’t raised here. Her environment’s been more protected.”

“By necessity.” Kimberly slung her purse over her shoulder once she stepped out. “Life’s different in Grace Haven. Let her get a taste of that while she’s here.”

“Hey!” Excited, Amy dashed down the steps to meet them. Her shoulder-length, dirty-blond hair lightened in the midday sun, and her smile brightened the moment. “Your uncle said yes! He called Tara and we’re good to go!”

“Who needs a town crier when I’ve got you?” Drew put his finger to his lips. “Bear in mind the sensitivity of this event, okay? You can’t chat about it, or tell your friends back home what’s going on. Even if you’re tempted. Get it?”

“Cross my heart.”

“Tara, I know we kind of sprung this on you,” Kimberly said as Tara and Daryl reached them at a more deliberate pace. “Can you and I sit down—”

“With me and Daryl,” Drew intoned. “Remember?”

“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.