Hunk for the Holidays (31 page)

Resting there against her aunt’s fragile strength, Cassie silently released her tears and, with them, her stubborn refusal to accept the truth. Her aunt was right. Somewhere she had forgotten how to fight for herself. Or maybe she had never known how. Family and business had been her entire life. She had liked it that way. Hidden in her office and living between two of her brothers, she had felt safe from the world. Unfortunately, it had kept her from living a normal life. A life filled with laughter and passion—and, yes, even pain.

“What happened?” Melanie asked.

Cassie lifted her head to find her entire family clustered around the couch. Her brothers had stopped playing with the helicopter and the children their toys.

“Her heart’s broken,” Megan supplied.

“Who broke it?” Gabby said. “Because I bet Uncle Patrick will make them pay.”

“No one is going to make anyone pay.” Her mother sat down on her other side and handed her a tissue. “At least, not until I find out what’s going on.”

“What
is
going on?” Her father moved to the front of the group and waited for Cassie to finish blowing her nose. “I hope you’re not upset over losing Slumber Suites to
Sutton. It ups the ante, but I think I’ve come up with a new offer that Sutton won’t be able to refuse.”

“I don’t think she’s crying about business, Albert,” her mother said.

His brow furrowed. “Well, then, is she sick? Should we call Dr. Matheson?”

“Tassie’s sick! Tassie’s sick!” Chase yelled.

For a second Cassie almost latched on to the excuse. It would’ve been so easy to put off talking with her father and just say she was sick and needed to go home. But that would be the wimpy way out. And she was tired of being a wimp. Especially with her father.

“I don’t need a doctor, Dad.” She got to her feet. “I need you to listen to me.”

Her father’s face got that look it always got when he didn’t like your tone of voice. But Cassie ignored it and forged on.

“James Sutton is not selling his business, and we’re not making him another offer.”

Anger turned her father’s face a bright red. “I don’t think that’s your decision, young lady.”

“And I think it is,” she said, then wished she hadn’t said it quite so sharply. A hush fell over the room. Everyone froze in shock. Even the children knew you didn’t talk back to Papa Al. But it was too late now. Cassie swallowed hard and continued. “Since your heart attack, I’ve been working my butt off.” She glanced around at her brothers. “We all have. And it was wrong to make an offer to James without consulting us.”

“M & M is my company,” he growled.

“No,” she said. “M & M is our company. Every McPherson
in this room has given up something to make the business successful, and every person in the room deserves to be heard. And I’m not blaming you for that, Dad. As Aunt Wheezie just pointed out, if people want to be heard, they need to speak up. So I’m speaking up. I don’t want you making another offer to James Sutton.”

Her father opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Patrick beat him to it. “I agree with Cass.”

Jake stepped up. “The offer’s on the table. If he changes his mind, he’ll contact us.”

“I think that makes sense,” Rory said.

Everyone looked at Mattie, who grinned from ear to ear. “Sorry, Pops, but it doesn’t matter how I vote. Majority rules.”

There was a moment when Cassie thought her father might explode. His face got even redder, and his chest puffed up. Then her mother stood and slipped an arm around his waist.

“She always was the outspoken one of the bunch, Albert.” She kissed his cheek. “Reminds me of someone else I know.”

“Outspoken and smart,” Aunt Wheezie said.

Her father glared at Wheezie before returning his attention to Cassie. “This decision wouldn’t have anything to do with you being in love with Sutton, would it?”

“No. Although, just so you know, I am in love with him.”

“And he’s in love with you?” her father asked.

“I’m not sure about that.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Which reminds me, I need to be going.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” her father said. “I’m
willing to concede the fact that you might be right about the offer I made Sutton, but this is Christmas. And the family’s always together at Christmas.”

“What about that Christmas when you were chasing after Mary Katherine?” Aunt Wheezie said. “I don’t think you got home until well past midnight, Alby.”

Her mother laughed. “She’s right. Besides, as much as we’d like to keep Cassandra as our little girl, I think she’s proven today that she’s all grown up and needs a life of her own.” She gave Cassie a hug. “If you don’t have other plans, why don’t you invite James back for Christmas dinner?” Her father started to speak, but she sent him a warning look.

“I’ll try, Mom,” Cassie said, “but I have a lot of apologizing to do.”

“Then call me tomorrow, honey. Albert”—her mother spoke in a tone that few people messed with—“give your daughter a hug goodbye.”

It took a moment for her father to comply. Even then, he didn’t give her his usual bone-crushing hug. This one was softer, gentler. When she pulled back, he didn’t look angry anymore. He wasn’t smiling, but in those dear green eyes, she saw resignation and a lifetime of love.

“I love you, Daddy,” she whispered.

He nodded, then cleared his throat. “Don’t forget your coat.”

“That’s it?” Mattie asked in amazement. “She just gets to leave without any yelling or cussing? Man, I can’t believe it. All I ask for is a tiny little sports car for Christmas, and I get the lecture of my life. But let the baby girl fall in love with our major competitor, and all she gets is
‘Don’t forget your coat.’ ” He tossed his broken helicopter to the couch. “It’s not fair, I tell ya. It’s just not fair.”

Cassie laughed. “Life isn’t fair, baby brother. Remember that.” She socked him on the arm on her way past him.

As she grabbed James’s sheepskin jacket and headed for the door, the rest of the clan put in their two cents.

“Apologize, but don’t show any weakness,” Jake the lawyer directed.

“Best defense is a good offense,” Rory agreed.

“Give him hell, Cass,” Patrick ordered.

“Hell! Hell!” yelled Chase before Melanie picked him up and offered him a candy cane off the tree.

Her mother followed her to the door. “Show him what’s in your heart, Cassandra. That will be enough.”

Cassie was still smiling when she stepped outside. It wasn’t snowing, though the afternoon sun was still well hidden behind thick clouds. The ground and trees were all blanketed in white, and the hushed stillness of the scene had her pausing and taking a deep breath of crisp air. A feeling seeped up from the region of her heart and spread through every part of her body. Even her gloved fingertips tingled with the sensation. The feeling was light and airy as a snowflake, but warming as hot cocoa.

She felt as if she’d emerged from a cocoon. For the first time in her life, Cassie McPherson was free. Free to work where she wanted to work, to live where she wanted to live, and to love who she wanted to love.

Cassie laughed, and the sound rang out like the clearest of church bells.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Hey, mister, whatcha doin’?”

James straightened up so quickly, he banged his head on the bottom branch of the tree. He grabbed his head as he turned and looked into the wide eyes of the two boys who were scrunched down by the tree, peering under the low-hanging branch he’d just cracked his head on.

It was official. James had lost his mind. He just hadn’t wanted anyone knowing it. Not even two adolescent boys. He went back to carving on the tree trunk and mentally kicking himself for not having a saw at home. He owned a construction company, for God’s sake.

“Ya choppin’ that tree down?” The littlest boy in the bright blue stocking cap fell down to his stomach in the snow and placed his mittened hands on either side of his face.

“He’s not choppin’, stupid,” the other kid said as he
crawled on his elbows under the tree. “Can’t you see he’s using a knife? He’s cuttin’ the tree down.”

James continued to whittle, hoping that if he didn’t answer, the kids would get bored and leave. It didn’t work. The sight of a grown man cutting down the large spruce tree in his front yard with a kitchen knife wasn’t even close to boring.

“How come you’re cuttin’ the tree down?” The little boy scooted closer. “Did you get that knife for Christmas? I got a bike, but I can’t use it yet ’cause of the streets being too slick. My dad moved the cars out of the garage and I rode it around in there until I ran into my dad’s workbench and knocked his table saw off and I had to stop ’cause Mom said I could’ve cut my leg off ’cause it’s real sharp. A lot sharper than your new knife.”

“Shut up, stupid. He doesn’t want to hear about your dumb bike,” the bigger kid said. He leaned closer. “What is that, a steak knife?”

James cleared his throat. “You boys better go on home. I don’t want you to get hurt when this tree falls.”

The older boy laughed. “I don’t think that’s happenin’ anytime soon. Hell, you haven’t even gone an inch.”

“Aww.” The little boy pointed a finger at his brother. “I’m tellin’ Mom you said a bad word.”

“Go ahead, you big tattletale.” He reached out and cuffed him in the back of the head, almost dislodging the blue cap.

The little boy sent up a wail that made James’s ears ring before the kid scrambled from beneath the tree and raced off through the snow.

“Baby,” the bigger kid mumbled as he turned back to James. “Hey, can I help?”

He thought about declining, but his fingers had started to cramp up in his gloves. Besides, the kid was right. There was no danger of the tree falling. Not when he’d been at it for a good forty minutes and gone less than half an inch.

James turned the handle of the knife to the kid. “Don’t cut yourself.”

“Hey, Dylan, what’s goin’ on?” Another boy leaned under the tree, his chubby cheeks red with cold.

“I’m helpin’ this old guy cut down his tree,” Dylan said.
Old guy?
He found the groove and started to saw. “I guess he’s tryin’ to replace the one that burned down last night.”

The other kid scooted under the tree. It was a tight fit. “Did you see the way that thing went up? Geez, it was so cool. Can I help?”

Dylan shook his head. “Not yet. I got a rhythm.”

“Hey, my dad’s got a chain saw. You want me to go get it?”

James opened his mouth, but Dylan answered for him. “Nah, we want to do it this way.”

“Oh.” The chubby kid rested on his elbows and continued to watch in silence.

As great as a chain saw sounded, the kid was right. After the commotion of the night before, James’s neighbors might string him up in the charred maple if he ruined their Christmas celebrations with the loud revving of a chain saw.

“Dylan?” Footsteps crunched through the snow. White snow boots appeared right before a pretty blonde poked her head under the tree. “You get out from under there
this minute, young man.” Little brother dropped to his knees next to the woman with a triumphant look.

Dylan tossed the knife at the chubby kid, but didn’t seem to be in any hurry to climb out.

“I mean it, Dylan,” his mother said. “I’m giving you to the count of three.”

“You better go,” James said. “But I appreciate the help.”

“What’s going on?” Black men’s boots joined the white ones.

“Les, Dylan won’t come out,” the woman whined.

“He’s under there?” His neighbor’s face appeared a second later. Les glanced at Dylan, then at the chubby kid who was madly sawing, and finally at James. He stood back up. “Go on back home, Kelly. I’ll take care of this.”

The boots hesitated for only a second before they walked away, hauling a wailing little brother behind them.

James wondered if he was in for a ball busting for letting the man’s kid play with knives when Les dropped down and scooted under. Instead, he nodded at the tree trunk. “You cutting it down?”

“Yeah, Dad,” Dylan piped up. “He wants to replace the one that burned down last night.”

Les glanced at him. “I thought you were Jewish.”

James rolled his eyes. “No.”

“Hmm?” Les watched the chubby kid for a few seconds. The kid didn’t seem to be getting anywhere even though sweat dripped like a leaky faucet from his forehead to the needles that encircled the trunk. “You need a saw?”

“As a matter a fact,” James said, “that would be—”

“No, we’re good.” Dylan reached for the knife. “I think we almost have it. Want a turn?”

Les shrugged. “Sure.” He took the knife from his son and moved up closer. “Maybe we should start on the other side.” As he sawed, he cleared his throat and looked over at James. “Sorry about your tree. Women can get pretty upset over things.”

“Women?”

Les shot a quick glance at the kids before he looked back at James. “I was walking the dog. I would’ve said something to the firemen, but I figured if you wanted them to know about her, you would’ve told them.” He stopped sawing, and his eyes glazed over. “You’re one lucky sonofagun. I used to be that lucky. Not that Kelly ever did that, but she used to do some fun things. One time, she—” He stopped and looked at his son. “I’ll have to tell you later.” He went back to sawing.