Her Unexpected Family (2 page)

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.

Chapter Two

L
ater that day,
Grant spotted the international number code pop up on his cell phone. He grabbed the phone as he muted college football on TV. “Christa, hey! How are you? How's everything going? Isn't it the middle of the night over there?”

“I'm all right,” she told him, and she sounded good. So good. “I'm on an overnight and had some time and figured the kids might be in bed.”

“They are—we've got temporary peace in the kingdom.” He laughed when he said it because he knew the reality behind the words. “I met with the wedding planner today, and we're scoping out reception places this week. I checked the guest list and figured about a hundred and thirty people, right?”

“The guest list. Yes. I—” A slight pause ensued, as if he'd lost the connection.

“Christa, you there?”

“Yes. Yes, I'm here.” She still sounded funny, though. Almost cautious. “Yes, around one thirty with both families and friends. Maybe a few more. I'm guilt stricken that I'm sticking you with all this. It's not like your life is exactly easy, but Mrs. Gallagher is a sweetheart. She'll smooth things out for you.”

“Well, it's Emily I'm working with. The middle sister.” With the great hair, gorgeous face and take-no-prisoners attitude.

“Emily's back?” Surprise raised Christa's voice. “The last I knew she was married and living in Philadelphia.”

“Well, she appears to be single and here in Grace Haven,” Grant told her. “She and Kimberly are running the business while her father undergoes treatment.”

“The cancer. Of course.” Christa's voice deepened. “I've got him on my prayer list,” she went on. Static messed up her next words, but Grant heard the last phrase succinctly. “I hate cancer.”

“Me, too,” Grant told her, though he wasn't putting stock in prayer lists. His mother had been an amazingly devout woman, and what did that get her?

Two extended bouts with cancer before they lost her. His father had walked out on them over thirty years before, and Grant used to pray his heart out as a little kid, begging God to bring his dad back. It never happened. His prayers went unanswered, and that was a good lesson learned at a young age. God didn't exist, because if he did, he didn't take his job all that seriously. Grant took everything seriously as a result. “I'll keep you updated on things either through email or phone, okay?”

“Yes, thank you! And if you can copy Spencer, that would be great.”

“Will do. And don't you worry about anything,” he instructed. “Your job is to stay safe, finish this deployment and get married. Everything here will be fine, I promise.”

“Thank you! I love you, Grant.”

Her words made him smile. “I love you, too. We're all we've got now, so we've got to stick together.”

Silence greeted his words again. When she finally answered him, he realized it must be a delayed connection. “We'll stick together, all right. Hey, gotta go. I'll call again soon, okay?”

“Yes. Goodbye, Chris—”

The phone hummed in his ear. She'd hung up.

He set his phone down and turned off the game. Life
was
somewhat crazy right now, and he didn't see that getting better anytime soon. He had the kids in the only day care center comfortable with Dolly's behavior issues, his eccentric aunt thought he was spreading himself too thin and needed a wife, and the twins were generally either catching something or getting over something.

This was his normal.

He pulled into his aunt and uncle's yard on Monday morning, ready to start a new week. Aunt Tillie bustled out the side door to greet him while Uncle Percy followed at a less frenetic pace.

“How are the wedding plans coming?” Aunt Tillie demanded in a too-loud voice. “You makin' progress?”

He fibbed slightly. He assumed they were, but he had thought he'd hear from Emily Gallagher and he hadn't. “Yes. If I need to go check out some wedding stuff tonight, can you sit with the kids?”

“What those little ones need is a mother,” Tillie declared for about the hundredth time. “I can't say it's right.” She shook her head firmly, and her frown matched the motion. “Them bein' in day care all day, then with a sitter at night, but if you need me, I'll be here. Hi, darlins!” She smiled and waved into the backseat, blowing kisses a mile a minute.

The twins laughed and waved back as he and Uncle Percy pulled out of the driveway. He dropped the kids at Mary Flanagan's day care center, got to work and as soon as his office door slapped shut behind him, he called Kate & Company. When Allison put the call through to Emily, he pretended the sound of her voice didn't make him want to suck his stomach in. He was in good shape and he didn't care what Emily Gallagher thought about anything other than weddings. “Miss Gallagher, I thought I'd hear from you by now. I was wondering if you were able to set up times for me to see those wedding venues.”

“Of course.” She sounded surprised, and her next words explained why. “I sent you an email Saturday afternoon confirming two stops tonight, one at five thirty and one at seven, and then tomorrow night at six for the third venue. I'm sorry you didn't get it.”

“Nope, not here,” he replied, but then he noticed his spam folder wasn't empty. There it was, an email from Kate & Company. “Wait, I lied. Your email got spammed.”

She laughed, and he realized it was a nice laugh, soft and kind. The kind of laugh that made you feel better about things and made small children giggle out loud. Like Dolly did last week. “So are we okay for tonight?” she asked. “Do you have someone who can watch Timmy and Dolly?”

She remembered their names.

Why did that mean something?

He didn't know why, but it did because almost everyone referred to them as a set.
How are the twins? Can you bring the twins? Hey, Grant, I saw the twins yesterday...

Hearing her call them by name sloughed off some of his gruffness. “Aunt Tillie and Uncle Percy are coming over. They'll stay as late as they need to.”

“Perfect. I'll meet you at the Edgewater Inn for the first appointment at five thirty. We can go on from there.”

“I'll see you then.”

He went through the day going over a winter preparedness checklist with the town staff. Being ready for winter storms meant planning in advance, and as they rechecked everything from salt to backup plow blades and which roads had botched pothole patches rising above road level, his eyes strayed to the big round clock on the wall several times.

“Boss, you got an appointment?” Jeannie Delgado asked around four thirty. “Because you've had your eye on that clock the past hour.”

“I do, so let's call an end to this meeting.” He stood, gathered his things and pulled his jacket on. “I've got to get the kids home to Tillie. I'm meeting with the wedding planner the next two nights so we can pick things for Christa's wedding.”

“Marvelous!” Jeannie's inflection offered full approval. “You're a good brother, Grant. So many folks don't bother with family these days. Having family around is a wonderful thing. Enjoy your evening and if they give out samples of cake, bring a few back here tomorrow.”

“Cake is on Friday's schedule, on my lunch hour,” he told her. “And I haven't even begun to figure out how Christa's going to search for a wedding gown. How do you find a wedding gown from overseas? Buy it there and ship it back?”

“I have no idea.” Jeannie frowned. “Maybe she'll buy it online, have it delivered here then have it altered at the last minute?”

He'd been feeling pretty good about checking out reception spots. Food he understood, and as the man in charge of a multimillion-dollar town highway budget, he had a great head for numbers. But ribbons and lace? Flowers?

No, no, and no.

Circumstances left him little choice, so he drove to day care, picked up two busy children, dealt with Dolly's backseat anger issues for over five miles and got them home to Aunt Tillie. Then he showered and changed, got back in the car and drove to the Edgewater Inn. He arrived five minutes early, something that didn't happen often now that he was a single dad. When Emily Gallagher pulled into the lot driving a cherry-red SUV, he realized anew that this woman had spent her life being noticed and didn't mind it in the least. Just knowing that made him want—no...make that
need
—to keep a distance. He'd lived that scenario once. He had no intention of living it again.

“You made it.” She smiled a welcome as he walked toward her.

“I did.”

“Excellent. Now, when we get inside the new chef's name is Henry, but he likes to be called Henri, so when I do that to appease his somewhat crazy artistic nature, don't laugh. Okay?”

“Well, now I'll have to laugh because you mentioned it,” he admitted. “If you'd said nothing, I'd have simply assumed that Henri was his name.”

“So I'm safer if I leave you in the dark? If I refuse to spill any insider wedding-planning secrets?”

Hints of gold brightened her brown eyes, and standing this close, he realized tiny points of ivory lightened the darkness around her pupil, giving her a winsome look that matched her bright smile.

Except he was immune to bright smiles and winsome was overrated. “I can handle secrets on a limited basis. The problem with telling me information is that I might mess up everything by blurting it out at the worst possible time.”

“I consider myself forewarned.” She walked to the well-lit formal entrance. He reached out to draw the door open. She had to duck under his arm to go in, and when she straightened on the other side, the dark green wool of her coat brushed his cheek.

The delicious vanilla scent made him think of country kitchens, warm fires and snow-filled nights. When she shifted to face him as they moved down the broad hall, the combination of bright eyes, gorgeous hair, soft scent and subtle lipstick made him long to draw closer.

He couldn't, but he wanted to and that was a dangerous combination. He had a job to do, two jobs, actually. Raising two kids on his own wasn't ever going to be a simple task, and running the town's highway force kept thousands of people safe every day. No way could he afford to have his attention split, but the minute they walked into the inn manager's office and Emily shrugged off her coat, he realized working with Emily for the next two months wasn't going to be a walk in the park.

His ex-wife had always said redheads should never wear pink.

She was wrong about that and a great many other things, because Emily Gallagher tossed that mane of auburn hair over the shoulder of a hot-pink dress, slipped into the upholstered chair the inn manager offered and withdrew her electronic notepad with finesse. If Chef Henri kept looking at her like that, Grant was tempted to give him a firm right jab to the chin. “Henry?”

The chef turned, obviously miffed by his pronunciation, but Grant didn't care. At least the guy stopped eyeing Emily.

“Henri.” The chef's haughty manner was an instant turnoff, but the dishes they sampled were magnificent. For great food and a reasonable price, Grant could deal with Henri's arrogance if he needed to.

“This raspberry reduction with the burgundy and nut-crusted pork is amazing.” Emily made a note on her tablet. “And those mushroom potatoes? Henri, I'd love to learn how to make those. I don't suppose you'd share the recipe, would you?”

Henri laughed and didn't look the least bit humble. “Henri has, of course, studied much to achieve the pinnacles of food, so no, I cannot share the chef's secrets I've acquired, but I will be happy now just knowing you approve.”

The inn manager cleared his throat, as if reminding the chef that the final decision wasn't up to Emily. The chef redirected his attention to Grant with a slight huff, then waited while Grant sampled a charbroiled steak with mushroom, bread and herb stuffing. “Amazing. This is tricky enough to create for one person, much less re-creating it for over a hundred. You've outdone yourself, Henri.”

His compliment must have soothed the cook's ruffled feathers because he held up a hand. “One moment.” He disappeared, then reappeared with two crystal cups, filled with something warm and sweet. “A treat to sample. This is a delicious way to wrap up a crisp evening, no?”

Grant tasted his, and he was about to sing the dessert's praises when Emily sighed and held her glass aloft after one spoonful. “Perfection in a cup. The hint of caramel balances the background of cinnamon, and is that nutmeg or allspice I taste?”

Henri beamed and shrugged, ready to carry the secret to his grave.

“Nutmeg,” she decided. She took another taste, then smiled again. “Clever, Henri! And delicious. What did you think, Mr. McCarthy?”

Right now having her use his full name seemed preposterous. The inn manager sent him an odd look. “Grant, please. We'll be working together for some time, so of course first names are in order.”

She sent him an almost impudent look, but held her tongue. “This bread pudding, Grant.” She took one more taste and languished over it, and he was pretty sure she did it on purpose. “Amazing, right?”

“One of the best desserts I've ever had, Henri. A hint of French to soften the simplicity of Old English.”

Henri's smile widened. “That is exactly what I was looking for! Old, new, French, English, American blended as one.”

“Henri, I know you've got other things to do this evening to get ready for tomorrow's banquet. Thank you.” The inn manager motioned to a small table nearby. “If you would both sit here, I can go over the options with a pricing sheet, and then print up an actual price list for Captain McCarthy's wedding if you book with us.”

By the time they'd finished, they had exactly ten minutes to get to the next appointment, a hillside vineyard and party house overlooking the southern end of the lake. Grant followed Emily there, parked next to her then accompanied her into the vineyard.