Love Inspired January 2016, Box Set 1 of 2 (20 page)

“He's at the church food cupboard in Prattsburgh.”

“Would he mind a visit?”

“From you? Never. But don't be disappointed if he has to say no.”

“What are we asking him, exactly?” Drew faced the two women directly. “The lack of dates puts this out of the question, doesn't it? Maybe we should consider just having the wedding, pictures and reception at the inn and be done with it.”

“That's a last-resort answer to an ongoing unresolved problem,” Kimberly chided him. “Let me go talk to Uncle Steve, and we'll see if we can make this right.”

“There's nothing wrong with the inn plan, Kimber.”

Drew leveled that stubborn cop gaze her way. Her heart wanted to step closer, smooth the irritation that creased his brow again, but her head kept her right where she belonged, four distinct feet away. “If what Shelby wanted was an everyday wedding, that's what she would have planned and that would be fine. But a woman who chose rose gardens and a grotto with an amazing view of Canandaigua Lake probably was looking for a perfect fall setting to match the colors she's picked for everything from flowers to linens to chair drapes. This won't be exactly what she dreamed about, but it would be something special. Let me talk to Uncle Steve and see what he says.”

“About?”

“Maybe doing the whole thing right here.”

That piqued his interest. Daryl's, too. He looked intrigued and nodded. “That would solve a myriad of problems, pretty lady.”

“But you said it was against the rules.” Drew included Tara in his statement, but Kimberly answered.

“It is, technically, but there's nothing holier than the blessing of matrimony. Uncle Steve's got the final say, but this could work. Of course, we'd have to let the other venue know—”

“No.”

She turned toward Drew, surprised. “No? What do you mean?”

“If this works out, if your uncle agrees, then we keep the other venue listed.”

Daryl nodded again. “The perfect red herring.”

“Yes. We'd pay them, of course, but losing the cost of that is worth the added security we'd get by bringing everyone into town four weeks earlier than we originally planned." He turned toward Tara. “How's your security on that computer?”

She raised a spiral-bound notebook and asked, “What computer?”

He grinned, and when he did his face shed years of worry. “You've done this before.”

“We've hosted some big names in the last five years. Knowing when to go old-school and leave no electronic footprint has been helpful.”

“You're talking our language.”

“But first.” Kimberly reached out her hand for the keys. “I need the keys to go see Uncle Steve.”

He could have just tossed her the keys. He didn't. He turned toward Tara. “With your permission, I'd like Daryl and Rocky to stay here and familiarize themselves with the layout. And if you two don't mind, can I leave Amy here so I'm not distracted while I meet your dad?”

She laughed and hooked a thumb toward the east wing. “My mother made cookies last night when things cooled off. Amy and I can grab some and talk girl stuff so Daryl can get his work done.”

Amy hesitated, mock-concerned. “There is no dungeon, right? Because Dad might have an ulterior motive for leaving me here.”

Drew grinned, and once again Kimberly glimpsed the guy he'd been before drug dealers had gunned his partner down in the street. “Then be extra good, honey. Just in case.” He turned back to Kimberly. “Let's go.”

“You really feel the need to watch me coax my uncle into opening the Abbey for the reception?”

He strode past her, through the door and toward the car. “No surprises, remember? Like it or not, Kimber.” He turned and faced her over the roof of the SUV. “We're attached at the hip for a while.”

“What about the senator? Who's protecting him and the family if you and Daryl are here?”

“He's under Secret Service jurisdiction now. When it comes to this wedding?” He pointed to her, then hooked a thumb back toward himself. “It's you and me.”

His serious expression held her gaze, but then he did the unthinkable.

He smiled.

And in that smile she saw a glimmer of hope she hadn't noticed in the first two hours they were together. It brightened his eyes and relaxed his jaw, letting her glimpse the old Drew she'd liked so well back in the day.

Her phone rang. She checked the display and saw her sister-in-law's name. Dave's widow, Corinne, left to raise her toddler son and unborn daughter on her own. A single parent driven by circumstances she might not have faced if Drew had gotten to the appointed meeting place on time.

She answered the call, still facing Drew. “Corinne, hey! What's up? How are the kids?”

The sound of Corinne's name accomplished her goal.

Guilt replaced Drew's smile. She'd done it purposely to remind him of what her family had lost at his hands.

He climbed into the car, waited while she finished the call, then started the engine once she was seated. Hands tight on the steering wheel, he aimed the car south and drove to the little town of Prattsburgh without saying a word.

She'd changed his easy mood intentionally, and now she had a twenty-minute drive to ponder what she'd done. When they finally pulled into the parking lot of the small stone church, she figured that might have been the longest twenty minutes of her life, and it was all her fault.

A roadside sign invited people to the weekend services. Beneath the listed times was one simple quote: “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.”

The tight line of Drew's jaw indicated she needed a whole lot of work in the peacemaker department. He waited while she moved ahead, not meeting her gaze.

Shame coursed through her. Her parents and sisters had never blamed Drew. Now, seeing his reaction to Corinne's call, Kimberly glimpsed a hollowness inside him, an emptiness that reflected her own. Her shallow move had opened a fresh chasm between them, and she had no clue how to fix it.

She turned as Uncle Steve came through the church door. When he welcomed Drew with a big hug, she felt worse than ever.

Blessed are the peacemakers...

The sign taunted her. Seeing Uncle Steve's hearty welcome to an old family friend spoke volumes. The rest of the family had moved on, long ago. Why couldn't she?

Because you were mad at Dave when he died. He'd scolded you about being self-absorbed, and you hung up on him.

And then he was gone. Just gone. And no amount of apology could bring him back or fix that last fateful call.

“Kimberly!” Uncle Steve's robust voice jerked her back into the here and now. As she stepped past Drew to hug her father's brother, guilt still bit deep. She'd been a jerk, then and now. Could she change?

Sure, if she wanted to badly enough. One way or another, she needed to come to peace with three things while she was back in Grace Haven. The loss of her beloved brother and a sweeter relationship with her two sisters headed the list. And the other?

She sighed inside.

The other was finding a common ground with Drew Slade. From the set of his jaw right now, that one didn't look the least bit likely.

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.”