"No, I don't date where I work. Colton and I are friends. I actually have my eye on a sexy accountant. And I know what you're going to say—that sexy and accountant don't really go together—but he has that boyish, glasses-falling-off-his-nose kind of charm."
Olivia smiled. "I know that kind of charm."
"We'll see though. We're really just friends at the moment." Robin paused as she sipped her beer. "But you asked whether or not Colton brought a lot of women around, and I'd have to say no. Not that there aren't always a lot of women trying to get his attention when we're all out somewhere, but he rarely actually shows up with anyone, until tonight."
"We were doing something for his grandmother earlier," she said, knowing she really didn't owe Robin an explanation, but she couldn't stop herself from providing one.
"How is his grandmother? I heard she has Alzheimer's."
"Apparently so, but she hasn't had any issues since I've met her."
"That's good news. Her husband, Patrick Callaway, was a legend in the department. He set all kinds of records for heroism, and his son, Jack, followed in his footsteps."
"The younger Callaway men have a lot to live up to," she murmured.
"They're up for the challenge." Robin paused as the guy sitting across from her demanded her attention. He wanted her to settle some sort of bet.
Olivia sat back in her seat as the waitress brought her a beer and a cheeseburger. And for the next few minutes, she just ate and watched the action at the table. While there was good-natured bickering and telling of embarrassing stories, it was clear there was a lot of love and respect within the group.
They were a family, she realized, probably very similar to the work family her dad had had. She'd put those memories out of her head for a very long time, but now bits and pieces of other birthday parties flitted through her mind. Her dad had loved his job and his coworkers, just like Colton, and she felt a bit wistful that she didn't have the same kind of camaraderie at her job. But it was just her, Philip, and Philip's assistant, and while Philip had an office, he was rarely there, and his personal assistant often worked from home, so Olivia had spent a lot of days alone in the small office on the eighteenth floor of a Manhattan skyscraper.
Colton nudged her arm, and she turned to look at him.
"Having fun?" he asked. "You're kind of quiet."
She nodded. "Just observing."
"You do that a lot."
"I guess I do."
"And what have you observed?" he asked lightly.
"That you have a great group of friends. I feel a little jealous. I work pretty much by myself. I don't think I've been part of a team since I played softball freshman year of high school."
"A softball player and a surfer? I'm learning a lot about you tonight. What position did you play?"
"Outfield. I like fly balls over grounders. Did you play baseball?"
"Third base."
"The hot corner," she said with a laugh. "I'm not surprised."
"I like to challenge myself."
"So do I. But apparently I give myself more room to succeed. The balls take a little more time to get to the outfield."
She paused, seeing four older men make their way into the bar. She thought she'd seen one of them the day before at the senior center. "Hey, is that your father?"
Colton turned his head. "Yeah, that's him."
"Who's he with?"
"My Uncle Rob. He's a retired firefighter, and I think the other two are cops."
"I thought this was a firefighters' bar."
"Sometimes we mix it up, and my dad always likes to do that. He thinks it makes for better cooperation between the departments."
"Is your father as gruff as your grandfather?"
"He's decisive, confident, tough when he needs to be, but he also loves to tell stories and have a good time."
"Sounds like he's got a little of Patrick and a little of Eleanor in him."
"I never thought of it that way, but you're right."
Colton had barely finished speaking when Adam said, "Look alive, boys and girls, the brass is here."
Colton seemed to grimace at Adam's words, and Olivia wondered if it bothered him when his dad showed up.
The men sat down at a table on the other side of the room, but when Jack saw Colton, he gave a wave and motioned for him to come over.
"You're coming with me," Colton told her.
"No, you can go on your own. So far the men in your family have not been happy to meet me."
"Well, too bad. You're my date tonight."
"I don't think this is a date."
"It's close enough. And I could use a buffer."
"Why?"
"Because if my grandfather has told my father anything about you and this book, I am going to get shit for being in this bar with you, so the least you can do is come with me."
"Well, since you've made it sound like so much fun," she said dryly. "I guess we're talking to your dad."
Chapter Twelve
As they walked across the room hand in hand, Olivia could feel not only the heat of Colton's fingers, but also the tightness of his nerves. She didn't know if he was really worried about being seen with her or if there was more to it than that. Colton had stiffened up the second his dad walked into the bar. Maybe at least some of his tension had to do with the fact that Jack Callaway was in essence Colton's boss.
When they arrived at the table, she could immediately see the similarities between Colton's father and uncle. While Jack had a more stocky build and a ruddier complexion than his brother Rob, they both had dark hair and blue eyes, a dangerously attractive combination that they'd also passed on to Colton.
The other two men at the table were quite different in appearance. One was short and stocky with a square face and a receding hairline. He was introduced as Donald Rand. The other had a long, narrow face, and his dark brown hair and moustache were edged with gray. He was introduced as Keith Fletcher. Both men were detectives in the police department, although according to Jack, they were also both in the running to be the next chief of police.
"Sit down, both of you," Jack said.
"We don't want to interrupt," Colton replied.
"You're not." Jack gave Olivia a speculative smile. "I've been hearing a lot about you, Miss Bennett. You seem to be a bone of contention between my grandparents and my wife. Now it appears that Colton is also involved." As Jack finished his pointed comment, he turned to the other men at the table. "Miss Bennett has come to San Francisco to write a book about my grandmother and her friends. My father is not happy about it."
"I heard about that," Rob Callaway said. "I told Dad he should relax and let Mom have some fun."
"It's not quite that simple," Jack said.
"What is the book about?" Donald asked curiously. "I know Eleanor is a beautiful lady, but what's her story?"
"I'm still trying to figure that out," Olivia said. "The book isn't just about Eleanor. I was invited to come here by Molly Harper. Molly said a group of ladies at the senior center would like to share their stories with me."
"Stories about what?" Keith asked.
"Well, they were part of a community theater group," she said, not sure how much she wanted to tell to these men.
Jack smiled. "My mother always had a flair for drama. She also had a ton of friends. She was the queen of the neighborhood back in the day."
"I remember the theater days," Rob said, an odd expression on his face now. "I actually remember Mom and Dad fighting a lot about that theater. I don't really know why. I guess he didn't want her to spend so much time away from home."
Or, Olivia wondered…maybe Patrick hadn't wanted Eleanor to put herself in danger.
"Dad didn't like to share her," Jack said. "But she could be determined when she wanted to be, and she liked putting on those plays."
"Molly was around a lot then, too," Rob said. "She was always bringing her kids over. Francine was cute, but her brother was a pain in the ass. I don't know how Michael was friends with him."
"Michael was a saint even when he was twelve," Jack said with a laugh. "Good training for becoming a priest."
"Did you say that Molly Harper wrote to you?" Donald asked Olivia.
"Yes. Unfortunately, by the time I got here, Molly had had a stroke. I haven't been able to speak to her. I'm hoping her condition will improve."
"That's terrible," Keith said. "I hope she recovers quickly. Will you be able to do the book without her?"
"Maybe. She left me some of her journals to read and other things I haven't gotten to yet. I'm really just getting started." She paused, remembering the picture of Molly's husband in a police uniform. "Wait a second, do either of you remember Stan Harper, Molly's husband? I understand he was a cop."
Donald and Keith exchanged a quick look and then Donald said, "Yes, I knew Stan. He was about fifteen years older than I was so we didn't spend a lot of time together."
"Same for me," Keith said. "I was a rookie when Stan died. It was the first cop's funeral I ever went to. I'll never forget it."
"If you went to his funeral, then you must know how he died," Olivia said, feeling excited at the prospect of getting more information on the Harpers. "Was it on the job?"
"No, it was a fire at his house," Donald said.
"A fire," she echoed, a little surprised. "What happened?"
"I don't remember the details," Donald replied. "It was a long time ago. Do you remember that fire, Jack?"
"I remember that night," Jack said with a nod. "I was away at college, but I came home for the weekend a day early, and the Harper kids were in my room. Mom pulled me aside and told me there had been a terrible fire and Stan had died. It was pretty shocking."
"Is this all going to be in your book?" Rob asked.
"Well, I don't know. I'm just pulling information together." She paused for a moment, thinking that it was surreal to consider the fact that she might be talking about her biological grandparents, which brought her to Francine. "Do any of you know what happened to Molly's daughter, Francine?" she asked, suddenly realizing she had no idea if Francine was alive or dead, if she was married, if she had other children…
"Francine died when she was in her twenties," Jack said, a somber note in his voice. "It was very sad."
"Oh," she said, taken aback by the terrible news. If she was Francine's daughter, she was never going to have a chance to meet her. "How did she die?"
"It was an overdose. Molly certainly suffered more than her share of tragedy," Jack added.
"That is sad," she murmured, thinking how difficult it must have been for Molly to lose both her husband and her daughter. Maybe that's why Peter was so protective over his mother now. His mother was the only one he had left.
"We'll let you get back to your drinks," Colton said.
"What's your part in all this, Colton?" Jack asked.
"Grandpa asked me to keep an eye on Grandma while he's in Chicago this week," Colton replied.
Jack grinned. "Looks like you got your eye on someone else at the moment, son."
Colton tipped his head in acknowledgment. "Olivia doesn't know anyone in town, so I thought the least I could do was buy her a drink. We should get back to the group."
"We should," she agreed, getting to her feet. "If I have more questions, would it be possible for me to speak to you all again?"
"Fine by me," Jack said. "But I don't know much more than I told you, and I think Rob knows even less."
"Jack's right, I probably don't know anything more than he does," Rob said.
"Maybe you two gentlemen might be able to help me learn more about Molly's husband, Stan," she suggested.
Neither Donald nor Keith looked too happy about that prospect, but they both nodded and made polite responses.
"Thanks," she said.
As they moved away from the table, their progress was stopped by the entrance of a large party, many of whom seemed to know Colton, slapping him on the back and saying hello as they made their way over to Adam's table.
"Looks like the party is getting bigger," she commented.
"A little too big for me," he said, his expression turning grim as an older man entered the bar.
"Who is that?" she asked curiously.
"My new boss, Mitchell Warren. He doesn't like me much."
"Why not?" So far everyone she met seemed to like Colton. He was a friendly, outgoing guy who loved his job, his friends and his family.
"Not really sure," Colton replied. "It has something to do with my last name. He chewed me out about five minutes after we met."
There was no way for Mitchell to get to Adam's group without passing by them. He saw Colton and gave a stiff nod.
"Callaway." His mouth seemed to curl distastefully around Colton's last name.
"Captain," Colton said tersely.
"How's the hand?"
"Better. I shouldn't have to miss more than one shift."
"We'll see." Mitchell looked around the bar. "Your brother here?"
"If you're referring to Burke, no, I haven't seen him."
"Good." And with that odd comment, Mitchell moved past them to wish Adam a happy birthday.
"See what I mean?" Colton asked, turning to her with frustration in his eyes.
"Yeah, he was cold as ice to you. It doesn't sound like he cares for your brother too much, either."
"I asked Burke about him. He alluded to some problems with him, but he wouldn't get specific."
"Maybe you should talk to him again."
"I doubt it would help. Burke likes to tell me to solve my own problems."
"That doesn't sound very generous."
"He's a great guy. He's just very closed off," Colton said. "And that's not all his fault."
"What do you mean?"
"It doesn't matter. Do you want to get out of here?"
"Sure."
"Let me just lay down some cash for our meal and say goodbye."
It took another fifteen minutes to pay their bill and say goodnight, but eventually they made their way back into the parking lot.
"I can drive now," she said.
"Let me. I prefer to be the driver than the passenger."