Authors: Patricia Thayer
Trent quickly shook away the dark memories. He had to deal with today. He pulled up to the Quinns’ home and saw the car with Nevada plates. Who was the out-of-state guest?
“Time to find out.”
Placing his Stetson on his head, he climbed out and glanced toward the deserted barn. The men had left early to repair a stretch of downed fence, so they could get back in time to get cleaned up for the wedding. Trent thought to his own rented tux, hanging in the back of his truck. Now he had to tell everyone the ceremony wasn’t going to happen.
Trent cursed and started off around the back of the house. He was immediately greeted by rows of empty white chairs. A long white runner spanned the middle aisle, dotted with rose petals, and ending at a huge flower-covered archway where the bride and groom were to exchange vows. The real star of the show was the incredible view of the north-facing mountain range sprinkled with the fiery colors of the aspen’s fall leaves mixed with evergreen ponderosa pines. A perfect setting for a late afternoon wedding. That was if you were into believing in happily-ever-after.
Feeling the warm late September sun, Trent rolled his sleeves on his Western shirt. Time to get to work. He paused when something caught his eye. A woman walking toward him.
Great, an early wedding guest. He took a second glance and something looked familiar about her. She came up the aisle in long easy strides. Dark trousers covered her long slender legs and a cream-colored silky blouse showed off gentle curves. Her chin-length hair was a silky, golden blond with some rich highlights. When she reached him a tentative smile turned up the corners of her full mouth, causing more of a reaction than he wanted to admit.
He swallowed and asked, “May I help you with something?”
“I hope so. I’m looking for Laurel Quinn,” she said.
“Well, you just missed her. She’s not here.”
Brooke tried not to react to the man’s abruptness. She considered going into town and returning another day. Too late. She straightened her shoulders. “Then could you tell me where I can find Rory Quinn?”
He folded his large arms over his wide chest, and he spread his stance as if to look intimidating. It was working.
“And who are you?”
She refused to back away, not after it had taken her so long to get here. “Brooke Harper.” She arched an eyebrow. “Are you related to the Quinns?”
He shook his head. “I’m Trent Landry, a family friend and business partner. And again, why do you want to see Rory?”
She glanced away from the man’s dark gaze. She’d dealt with a lot of businessmen in her job, but this guy was good at intimidation. Either he was military or law enforcement. But she could handle it. “I believe that is between Mr. Quinn and myself.”
“Well, you can believe whatever you want, but both Rory and Laurel Quinn will be away for a few days. So why don’t you return then?” He tried to read her eyes. “Or you can tell me what this is about and when I talk with Rory, I can relay your message.”
Brooke didn’t have a lot of time or choices. So she’d either wait until the Quinns returned home, or she’d have to take more time off work. But how much did she want to tell this man? Definitely nothing about her connection to Rory Quinn.
“Laurel Quinn is my...half sister.”
* * *
H
OW CAN
L
AUREL
have a sister?
“Is that so?”
Trent watched Brooke Harper’s hands shake, but she managed to extract papers from her oversize purse and give them to him.
His gaze didn’t waver from those intriguing green eyes until he opened the folded sheets, then finally glanced over a birth certificate, stating that Coralee Harper gave birth to a female child on the twelfth day of December, 1988.
Trent looked at the other paper, a custody agreement, giving Rory Quinn full custody of his daughter Laurel Kathryn Harper. These weren’t the originals, but he couldn’t discount them, either. If true, that meant Diane Quinn wasn’t Laurel’s biological mother?
Damn, this was above his pay grade.
He studied the pretty blonde, looking for a resemblance. Her large eyes were deep green in color, her fair skin was flawless and her full mouth... He halted the survey, realizing he needed to stop getting distracted by her. Brooke Harper’s news could destroy the Quinn family.
He needed to get ahold of Rory. “Excuse me. I need to make a call.” He walked out of earshot and punched in the familiar number. He glanced at the white tent that had been constructed in the predawn hours to house the guests for the Quinn-Aldrich wedding reception.
Then came sunrise and there was no sign of the groom. When Laurel couldn’t get ahold of Jack by phone, Trent had gone out to the general contractor’s temporary residence, the small trailer at the building site. He’d found it completely empty. Obviously, Jack had cleared out sometime during the night.
Now, four hours before the ceremony the groom had disappeared; also all their money for the construction of the cabins was gone with him. If that wasn’t enough, this woman had shown up and claimed to be Laurel’s sister.
Rory’s phone rang and rang, and finally went to voice mail. “Please leave a message...”
“Rory, this is Trent.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I need you to call me, right away. Something has come up here, and no, it’s nothing to do with finding Aldrich.”
Just as Trent disconnected the call, he turned to see a truck, painted with the sign All Occasions Catering on its side, pull into the drive. Great, something else he had to deal with. And the troubles didn’t stop, he thought, remembering the fifty-plus wedding guests arriving soon.
Around the barn appeared the ranch truck, and four ranch hands piled out. He needed help. Trent punched the ranch foreman’s phone number.
“Hey, Trent what’s up?” Chet answered.
“Hi, Chet. Has Rory called you today?”
“No, he hasn’t. Why?”
“There’s been a change of plans. Wedding’s been called off.”
“What?”
Trent didn’t want to go into details now. “Yeah, and the family has gone out of town. Rory asked me to handle things here. So could you send Ollie and Larry out to the gate and head off the guests? Have them explain that the wedding has been called off, and make sure they thank everyone for coming. But no more info.”
“That won’t be difficult since I don’t know any more,” Chet said, digging for more news.
“I’ll fill you in later,” Trent promised.
That seemed to satisfy him. “Okay, as soon as they get cleaned up, I’ll send them down.”
“Thank you, I know Rory appreciates the help.”
“He’s a good man,” Chet added. “Do you need anything else?”
“Yeah, a few men to help take the chairs and tables back to the rental place?”
“Sure. Let me get the flatbed and we’ll be up in a few.”
“Thanks, Chet.”
Trent hung up and quickly went to handle his next problem, the caterer. Even bigger trouble was when he found Miss Harper talking to the man in the white uniform. He headed over to find out what she was saying to him.
Trent knew the catering owner, Bill Cummings, from town. “Hey, Bill.” Trent shook the older man’s hand.
“Hi, Trent.” Bill grinned. “I hear from lovely Miss Harper here that there’s been a change of plans.”
Just what had she told him? He sent her a glaring look, and got a sweet smile in return. Feeling a sudden jolt of awareness, he turned back to Bill. “Yes, the wedding has been called off.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Bill frowned. “But there’s no refunds, I told that to Rory when he paid the deposit.”
“I’m sure they understood that when they hired you.” He silently cursed Aldrich again for causing all this trouble. Not that he cared, but this news would be all over town once Bill’s wife, Bess, learned of the cancellation. Nothing he could do about that.
Bill looked sympathetic about the situation. “So what do you want me to do with all this food?” He motioned to the truck.
“Donate it.” Brooke Harper stepped forward.
“I worked for a large hotel and when we have leftover food from our events, we take it to a shelter or soup kitchen.”
“Do I take it all? And what about the cake? It’s three tiers with the bride and groom...”
“Donate everything.” Trent didn’t have time or energy to think of a place. “Bill, you decide where it goes.”
He glanced toward the barn to see Larry and Ollie getting into the truck and heading out to the gate to greet the guests and send them home.
Bill snapped his fingers. “St. Theresa’s Catholic Church has a shelter.” He looked at Trent as he pulled out his phone. “Do you think that will be all right with Rory and Diane? I mean, I know they go to the Methodist Church on Grant Street.”
“I think when it’s a charitable act, it doesn’t matter,” Trent told him. “And since Rory instructed me to handle things, I vote for St. Theresa’s. I really appreciate you doing this for the family.”
With a nod, Bill walked back to the truck, holding the phone against his ear.
Trent took Miss Harper by the arm and guided her aside. “I wasn’t able to get ahold of Rory yet, but I left a message for him to call me back. Why don’t you give me your cell number and I’ll call you when I hear from him?”
She hesitated, her gaze searching his. “I think I’ll hang around for a little while...just in case he calls...soon. Besides, it looks like you could use some help here.”
Before Trent could argue the point, she walked toward the men and began directing them to specific jobs: folding and stacking the tables and chairs, then loading them on the truck. Since he didn’t want to deal with more questions, he didn’t stop her.
Over the next hour, the crew of men managed to get everything loaded onto the flatbed. Chet jumped behind the wheel and drove off toward town and the rental company.
That was fairly easy. Trent grabbed a bottle of water that had been retrieved from the kitchen and took a long drink. He looked around and found Brooke Harper standing at the floral archway. He grabbed another bottle. Determined to tell her it was time to leave, he walked to her, but paused, catching her biting her full lower lip, a frown creasing her high forehead.
She seemed to have sensed his presence, turning with a smile. “This is so beautiful. It’s a shame to waste all these lovely flowers.”
He handed her the cold water bottle. “What do you suggest we do with them—ship them off to a hospital?
“They’d probably appreciate them.”
She took a drink and Trent watched her slender neck bend back, exposing the smooth skin.
He quickly turned away to the white arch intertwined with greenery and colorful flowers. He inhaled the soft scent and didn’t know if it was the blooms or the woman. “Okay, I’ll have one of the men take care of the delivery. I don’t want Laurel to have any reminders of today.”
Brooke turned her head. Her green eyes flashed him a look that reminded him a lot of Laurel. “I’m sorry. She must be devastated.”
Trent shrugged. “Probably, but I didn’t get a chance to talk to her. She took off to Denver to find him. Her parents went with her. That’s why Rory isn’t here.”
“Then I showed up and added to your troubles.”
He didn’t disagree. “This isn’t the best time to announce to Laurel that she has a sister and a biological mother—who gave her up.”
* * *
B
ROOKE WORKED HARD
not to look away from Trent Landry. His cowboy hat might have shaded his eyes, but she felt the heat from the rich coffee color. He seemed to be able to reach deep inside her and pull out more than she wanted him to know. But her news wasn’t for him, it was for Rory and Laurel.
“And that’s why Coralee wants to see her. To explain why she had to give her up.”
The tall, muscular man’s dark gaze sent her a glaring look. “By signing away her rights, she made a promise not to contact Laurel.” He folded his arms over his chest. “That’s what full custody means. And now she’s breaking it, by pushing herself into her daughter’s life.”
“She has a good reason.”
“What, guilt, because she gave her away?”
Brooke had trouble staying calm, but she knew she had to focus on her mother’s wish. “I’m sure that Rory will understand why Coralee wants to see Laurel this one time.”
He frowned. “Why, is she dying?”
Brooke’s chest tightened with emotion. “Something like that. Coralee has early-onset Alzheimer’s.”
Chapter Two
“Look, Mr. Landry,” Brooke began, still having trouble reading the man. “I didn’t come here to argue with you. I made a promise to my mother.”
“It’s Trent,” he insisted.
She nodded, trying to rein in her frustration. “Trent. Please call me Brooke.”
He smiled and she quickly lost her train of thought.
“Okay, Brooke. Why don’t we go inside and sit down? I think we’ve earned a break.”
Brooke let him escort her up the back steps and through a large mudroom that had a front-loading washer and dryer. On the other wall was a long row of hooks that held a collection of cowboy hats. That was where Trent placed his hat, then motioned her into the next space.
She paused in the doorway and her gaze searched the farm-style kitchen, including a brick fireplace. Lining the walls were white cabinets with black metal hinges and knobs decorating the fronts. Dark-stained butcher-block counters held small appliances, but left plenty of room for making meals or baking cookies. Oh, my, the room was as big as her entire apartment.
Suddenly she was second-guessing her decision to come here. But for months, Coralee had begged her, cried about her other daughter, Laurel. The baby she gave away. What if Rory Quinn didn’t care and he threw her off the property?
Brooke stiffened, feeling Trent’s hand against her spine.
“Let’s sit over here.”
He directed her to an oval table in front of a picture window overlooking the pasture of grazing cattle.
She just realized she didn’t know much about this family. Only what was on the website for Bucking Q Cattle Company. “How many Quinns live here?”
“There’s just the three of them. Rory, Diane, his wife, and the one daughter, Laurel.”