The Single Dad's Second Chance (16 page)

Epilogue

Two weeks later

G
emma Palermo greeted Rachel, Andrew and Maura with wide-eyed dismay as soon as they walked in to Valentino’s. “You don’t have a reservation.”

“Do we need one?” Andrew asked.

“The entire dining room is booked for a conference group that’s coming in.”

Maura’s face fell. “But I want p’sgetti.”

Gemma glanced at her watch and then back into the dining room. She held up a hand. “Just give me a sec,” she said, and disappeared.

“Why don’t we just go back to your place?” Rachel suggested to Andrew and Maura. “I can make something for us there.”

He shook his head. “We wanted to take you out for dinner because you’ve been working all day.”

“It’s not a big deal to make a pot of pasta,” she assured him.

Before he could respond, Gemma was back. “We found somewhere to squeeze you in,” she said, then led them through the mostly empty dining room, past numerous vacant tables with Reserved signs on them, and into the kitchen.

Rachel smiled when she saw that one of the workstations had been covered with a linen cloth and set with three place settings, a bottle of wine, candles and a gorgeous bouquet of fresh lilies that she immediately recognized as Holly’s handiwork. Except for the third plate, it reminded her of the first night she and Andrew had shared dinner.

She ordered her usual, the penne with sausage and peppers, and Andrew requested the same, with Maura voting for spaghetti and meatballs.

While they ate, Rachel found herself thinking about how much her life had changed in the past four months since she’d first shared a meal with Andrew in this kitchen, and how very lucky she was. She wasn’t naive enough to think that there wouldn’t be other obstacles in their future, but she was confident that she and Andrew would overcome them together.

“Is it time for dessert now, Daddy?” Maura’s question interrupted her musing.

Andrew shook his head. “Rachel hasn’t finished her pasta yet.”

“Actually, I don’t think I can eat another bite,” she told him, pushing her plate aside.

It was immediately whisked away by one of the staff.

“Dessert?” Maura prompted again, as Gemma returned to the kitchen.

“Yes,” Andrew agreed.

“Let’s go see what we can find,” Gemma suggested to the little girl.

As Maura skipped off with the hostess, Andrew reached across the table and linked his hand with Rachel’s. “What were you thinking about?”

“I was just thinking that I might not hate Valentine’s Day anymore.”

His brows lifted. “Might not?”

She smiled. “I’ll keep you posted.”

Further discussion of the topic was curtailed by Maura’s return. Andrew drew his hand back as his daughter approached the makeshift table slowly, carrying in both hands a plate with a slice of chocolate raspberry cheesecake.

Rachel was surprised by her choice. Maura wasn’t much of a cheesecake fan and she’d figured the little girl would want a sundae. She was even more surprised when Andrew’s daughter set the plate on the table in front of her.

The top of the cake was decorated with a sprinkle of powdered sugar and a trio of fresh raspberries, but it was the ring leaning against the fruit that made Rachel’s breath catch in her throat: a gold band set with a gorgeous blue diamond encircled by smaller white diamonds.

Her gaze shifted from the ring to the man seated across the table.

“Maura picked it out,” he explained. “Because it looked like a flower. But if you don’t like it—”

“It’s beautiful,” she assured him, her heart pounding so hard against her ribs she was certain both Andrew and Maura must be able to hear it.

“I wanted to wait for our six-month anniversary, but somebody—” he looked pointedly at his daughter “—was a little impatient.”

The little girl just grinned, clearly unchastised. “Ask her, Daddy.”

“Give him a chance,” Gemma said to the child.

But the excitement and anticipation on her friend’s face made Rachel suspect that the Reserved signs all over the dining room had been put there solely for her benefit, that there wasn’t any conference group coming into the restaurant for dinner, after all. The whole scene had been deliberately set up to get Rachel into the kitchen where she and Andrew had dined together on Valentine’s Day.

“This isn’t quite how I planned for this to happen,” he admitted to Rachel. “When I first decided that I was going to ask you to marry me, I imagined something a little more intimate, something for just you and me.

“But the reality is, it’s not going to be just you and me. Maura and I are a package deal, so it seemed appropriate that instead of asking you to share my life, we should ask you to share our life, to be part of our family, for now and forever.”

He reached across the table for her hand again. “What do you think?”

She drew in a deep breath. “I think that, as far as proposals go, yours was almost perfect.”

“Almost?”

“You didn’t get down on one knee, Daddy,” Maura told him.

He slid from his chair to kneel on the kitchen floor beside Rachel’s.

And the moment was more perfect than anything she could have imagined. Except for one thing. “Actually, I was thinking more about the part where you forgot to ask the question.”

“Right.” He smiled sheepishly. “Rachel Ellis, will you marry me?”

Though her heart was so full she could barely speak, she knew that the question asked deserved more than a silent nod. “Yes, Andrew Garrett, I will marry you.”

Maura took the ring off the cake and gave it to her father so he could slide it on Rachel’s finger. Then the kitchen staff erupted into spontaneous applause as he kissed her.

“When are we gonna have the wedding?” Maura wanted to know.

Andrew chuckled. “We’ll figure that out soon enough.”

“But yes,” Rachel said, before her soon-to-be daughter could ask. “You can be the flower girl.”

“Yippee!”

After accepting congratulations from Gemma and Tony and the rest of the staff, Rachel offered one hand to Maura, Andrew took the other and they walked out of Valentino’s kitchen together, hand in hand in hand.

Finally, a family.

* * * * *

It was supposed to be a marriage of convenience
between two friends...until one kiss
changed everything....

Don’t miss Daniel & Kenna’s story!

Look for
A WIFE FOR ONE YEAR
by award-winning author Brenda Harlen.

The next installment of
THOSE ENGAGING GARRETTS!

On sale August 2014,
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Keep reading for an excerpt from To CATCH A CAMDEN by Victoria Pade.

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Chapter One

“T
his is a wonderful thing you’re doing, Gia.”

Gia Grant laughed uncomfortably at the compliment from the church pastor. “The Bronsons are wonderful people,” she demurred. “I didn’t know how tough it could get for the elderly until seeing the way things are for Larry and Marion. And thanks again for letting us use the church basement tonight to organize everything so we can get started.”

“Of course. The Bronsons have been church members since my father was pastor here. We want to do all we can.”

“That reminds me—thank your mom, too, for the cookies and the brownies and the cupcakes. I was surprised when the Bronsons wanted to come tonight—they just don’t go out much—but it’s turned into a rare social event for them. Complete with goodies,” she added with a nod toward the opposite end of the big room, where the elderly couple who were her next-door neighbors were chatting with other members of the church.

Gia had launched a grassroots effort to help the Bronsons. They were on the verge of losing their house because their fixed income wasn’t meeting the cost of living expense increases and the additional medical expenses mounting with their age.

After making several calls and searching the internet for help for them, she’d discovered there weren’t a lot of options available to older people in their predicament.

But she couldn’t just sit back and watch what was happening to them without doing something. So she’d spread the word in their surrounding neighborhood that help was needed.

Small business owners who knew the Bronsons had put out donation jars at their checkouts. The church had sounded the alarm in their newsletter, and Gia had persuaded a local news station to do a human-interest piece on them. It mentioned both the donation fund Gia had started for them and the need for manpower to do repairs and maintenance on their house.

Gia’s highest hope was that she could raise enough money to keep the Bronsons out of foreclosure. If she couldn’t do that, then she at least wanted to get the place in order so that it could be sold before that happened.

Tonight, neighbors, friends and church members had gathered to form a plan of action to spruce the place up, and now that the meeting was finished it had become a social hour. Gia was happy to see the eighty-nine-year-old Larry and his eighty-seven-year-old wife, Marion, enjoying themselves.

“I was also wondering if you might have dinner with me some night...” Pastor Brian said, interrupting her thoughts.

Gia had wondered if that was coming. Although she didn’t belong to the Bronsons’ church, the minister had asked to be part of her efforts to help the older couple, and that had meant seeing him here and there. He’d become more and more friendly over the past few weeks.

At first Gia had thought he was merely trying to entice another sheep into his flock. But then a personal undertone had developed when he talked to her and she’d begun to wonder if he was interested in her.

Thinking that he probably wasn’t, she’d still considered what she might do if he asked her out.

At thirty-four, Pastor Brian was only three years older than she was. He was nice looking, with golden-blond hair and hazel eyes. And he certainly came equipped with the attributes she was determined to look for in a man from here on out—he was upstanding and honest. There wasn’t so much as a hint of wrongdoing in any aspect of him—he was a minister, for crying out loud.

But the fact that he was the head of his church put a crimp in things. Not only wasn’t Gia a member of his religion, his job brought with it obligations and duties that were an uncomfortable reminder of the family ties that had bound her ex-husband and caused her to take a backseat in his life.

Plus, even though it had been nearly a year since her divorce was final, she felt as if she was just beginning to catch her breath, and she wasn’t ready to get into the whole dating thing again yet. With anyone.

And then there was the fact that she
was
divorced.

“Thanks for asking, Brian, but no,” she answered. “I like you, I do. But right now just the thought of dating gives me the willies. And even if it didn’t, I’m
divorced.
And your congregation is old-fashioned. I’ve overheard Marion’s church-lady friends talking about finding you a wife—”

“I’m surprised they haven’t formed a committee. By now I think I’ve been introduced to every young single female they’re even remotely related to.”

“You haven’t been introduced to the ones who are single through divorce, I can promise you that,” Gia said. “Because believe me, when it comes to who they want to see you with, it isn’t anyone with that in her background. In their eyes, that’s damaged goods and definitely
not
a prospect for their Pastor Brian.”

The minister smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I told my folks I was going to ask you to dinner and they said the same thing,” he admitted. “But it would only be dinner and I thought I might risk a little scandal....”

Oh, good, I could go from being a shut-out in-law to a church scandal,
Gia thought.

“But I’m really not ready,” she repeated honestly. “I’m just barely getting my being-single-again sea legs.”

He shrugged. “It’s okay. I just thought I’d ask—no harm, no foul. I’m still with you a hundred percent on this project to help Larry and Marion.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” Gia pointed at the restroom sign. “I’m headed to wash my hands—I got into something sticky.” And had just avoided getting into something even stickier....

“Yeah, I think I’m ready for another cup of coffee myself,” he said, leaving Gia free to go into the bathroom.

Safely behind a closed door, she went straight to the row of three sinks, breathing a sigh of relief now that that was over.

It hadn’t been
too
awkward, she decided.

The minister had taken her rejection in stride, so she thought it would all be okay. She hoped it would all be okay. And at least she knew now that she hadn’t been imagining things—because even as she’d thought he might be showing her undue interest, she’d also wondered if she was flattering herself.

She washed her hands and took stock of her reflection in the mirror above the sinks. Dark eyes. Decent skin. An okay nose—not too prominent, not misshapen. A mouth she was afraid might be too wide, especially when she smiled. And dark, curly, curly—
really curly—
hair that she had to keep six inches below her shoulders so the weight of it would keep it from bushing out like a fright wig.

A neglectful husband—whose eye had begun to wander at the end of their marriage—and then a divorce had her making more assessments of her looks than she had since she was a teenager. And finding flaws. So even as she’d thought the pastor might have been showing her undue interest, she’d also been skeptical of the possibility that she
could
attract a man’s attention.

Of course, there was also the fact that she was only five feet three inches tall—that made her one of the few people the five feet five inch minister was taller than....

That was probably the real reason, she thought suddenly, doubting herself all over again.

Gia’s second sigh was a bit demoralized.

Oh, well. At least she could say she’d been asked.

She finished washing her hands and after drying them with a paper towel, she used the towel to brush wrinkles from the black slacks she’d worn to work today with her plain white blouse. Then she tossed the used paper towel in the trash and left the restroom.

Which was when she noticed someone new coming down the steps into the church basement.

A latecomer, was her initial thought.

Before she took a second look and recognized the man.

Unless she was mistaken, that was Derek Camden.

She’d never met him. But not only had the Bronsons’ dislike and resentment of the Camdens brought the well-known family to her attention whenever they were in the news or in magazine or newspaper articles, she also had some small knowledge of this specific Camden. He’d been involved for a brief time with her best friend Tyson’s cousin—a woman Tyson referred to as the family nutcase—and Gia had seen a snapshot of the two together.

Being reasonably sure that was who he was, she moved to intercept him before he got out of the stairwell and could be seen by anyone else.

“Can I help you?” she asked in a hurry, hoping not to draw the attention of the Bronsons.

“Umm...I don’t know. I heard through the grapevine that tonight was the night people were getting together to talk about helping Larry and Marion Bronson—that’s the group I’m looking for....”

“But you’re Derek Camden, aren’t you?” Gia said.

“I am. And you are...?”

“Not going to let you in here.”

His face erupted into a grin.

The face that she’d already noted was even more striking in person than it had been in the photograph. And he’d looked incredibly good in the photograph.

His hair was an even darker brown than hers was—verging on black—with just a touch of wave to the top that he left slightly longer than the short sides. His nose was the perfect length and shape—thin and straight. His mouth was just lush enough. He had the sexiest hint of a cleft in his chiseled chin. And nothing she’d heard about the Camden blue eyes had done his justice, because they were the vibrant blue of the delphiniums she loved to look out at through her kitchen window every morning.

And it all went with six foot two inches of muscular masculinity not at all hidden behind the tan slacks and cream-colored shirt he was wearing with his brown tie loosened at the open collar, and the suit coat he had hooked by a thumb over one impressively broad shoulder.

“You’re not going to let me in here?” he repeated, as if her thinking she could stop him amused him no end.

“No, I’m not,” Gia asserted. “It would ruin the Bronsons’ night.”

It only occurred to her as she said it that this man appeared to be about her own age and maybe didn’t know what had been done by his family generations before. That maybe he was there purely in response to word getting out, and had genuinely just come to help. Without knowing that his family was at the heart of the Bronsons’ hardship.

“I’m sorry, did you know that there’s bad blood between the Bronsons and your family?” she asked.

The alarm in her tone only made him laugh. “A lot of people don’t like the Camdens,” was all he admitted to.

“This is more than just—” she wasn’t sure how to put it so she repeated his words “—a lot of people not liking the Camdens on some sort of principal—”

“It’s okay. I came to help anyway,” he assured as if he didn’t view an aversion to his family as an obstacle.

“Yeah...well...it wouldn’t be okay with Larry and Marion, and I’m reasonably sure they wouldn’t take help from any Camden,” Gia said more bluntly because she was concerned that he wasn’t getting the picture. “And this may not look like it, but it’s a night out for them, they’re having a good time talking to people they haven’t seen in a while and I don’t want it wrecked for them....” She had no doubt the presence of a Camden would do just that.

“But I do want to help them,” Derek Camden said.

He was kind of stubborn. Great looking and amiable and certainly nothing more than tickled by her blockade, but difficult to persuade.

“They lost their hotel years ago to H. J. Camden. So maybe if you give them the Camden store that was built where their hotel was...” Gia suggested to get her point across. And to test his response and possibly learn whether or not he knew the history.

It worked, because he flinched charmingly and Gia had the impression that he knew exactly what she was talking about. “I don’t think I can do that. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to do
something.
And by the way, who
are
you?” he asked without any rancor.

“Gia Grant. I live next door to the Bronsons.”

“And you’ve taken them under your wing,” he guessed. “The guy who cuts my hair down on University had a donation jar. He said there was some
little lady
behind this. Is this whole thing your doing, Gia Grant?”

“We’re friends
and
neighbors. The Bronsons are good, good people and I can’t sit by and just watch what’s happening to them—”

“Which is what, exactly?”

Gia glanced over her shoulder at the long lunch table where the group that was left was talking. They hadn’t yet noticed that she wasn’t back from the restroom, but that wasn’t going to last forever.

“The longer I stand here, the more likely it is that someone is going to see you and, honestly, I won’t let you put a damper on Larry and Marion’s night.”

“But I
do
want to help,” he insisted.

“Donate, then.”

He nodded that oh-so-handsome head sagely. “We’re interested in more than just stuffing some cash in a donation jar. My grandmother isn’t too much younger than the Bronsons, and let’s say they’ve struck a chord with her. She sent me to represent the family and make sure whatever needs the Bronsons have are met.”

“Then donate a
lot
of money. Anonymously, or they won’t take it.”

He inclined his head as if that might be a good solution but he just couldn’t accept it. “We don’t want to just throw some money at the problem. We want to find out what
all
of the problems are and lend a hand getting them addressed in the best way possible so these people can finish out their lives comfortably, safely and securely.”

“You’re admitting that what your family did way back when caused the problems, and now you have a responsibility to make things right,” Gia surmised.

“We just want to help,” he said, firmly holding that line and acknowledging nothing else.

Gia shook her head. “The Bronsons are in trouble. But they’re proud people. I’ve convinced them to accept help from their friends and neighbors, their church, by assuring them that the help is coming from people they’ve given business to for decades, from the same people they’ve helped in the past or would help if the need arose even now and they could. I’ve promised them that it isn’t charity, it’s people who know and care about them just wanting to do something for them. But they hate you—I’m sorry to be so direct, but that’s just a fact. I know them—they’ll think that anything you do will have an ulterior motive. If they know you’re behind a dime, they won’t take it.”