Second Chance with the Billionaire. Janice Maynard
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He put the cold items away and leaned back against the counter. The kitchen was small and dated, but cozy and welcoming in a retro way. He and Kirby and Ellie had visited here on occasion as kids.
“That’s not fair,” she said, her gaze mulish as Emory yanked on a strand of her hair. “Kirby needs company. Even if he doesn’t realize it.”
“So I’m your token guinea pig?”
She shrugged. “I’ve done all I can do. If there’s going to be a change in the status quo, I’m betting on you.”
“No pressure.” He was stalling, honestly scared that his longtime friend was going to kick him out after an obligatory five-minute visit. “Let’s get this over with. But if he doesn’t want me here, I’m leaving.”
“We may have to ease him into it, but I know this will be a good thing.”
“I wish I had your confidence.” What did Conor possibly have to say to a man who had lost part of a limb? Yet even amid his doubts, Conor knew he would do anything to put a smile on Ellie’s face.
Mr. Porter was napping, so Kirby was the only one in the living room when Ellie and Conor walked in. In a flash, Conor saw that Kirby had changed. More than Conor could have imagined. The teenage boy Conor remembered was a man with lines at the corners of his eyes and a tight jaw that spoke of pain suffered and battles fought.
Conor crossed the room, holding out his hand. “Hey, Kirby. It’s great to have you back in town. Don’t get up, man.”
But Kirby had already risen awkwardly to his feet, his arms outstretched. “What took you so long?”
Conor hugged him hard, feeling a reciprocal level of emotion in his friend’s embrace. “I had to pick up the food.”
After a moment, they separated. Kirby settled back in his recliner. Conor took a seat close by. Kirby shook his head. “I’ve missed you, buddy. More than you know.” The tone in his voice said a whole lot more than his prosaic words.
Conor had only a split second to ponder his next move. He tapped Kirby’s knee. “So let me see this fake foot.”
“Conor!” Ellie’s shocked exclamation fell into a pit of silence.
Kirby blinked in shock. His jaw worked. And then he burst out laughing. A gut-deep, hearty, belly laugh that went on and on until Conor and Ellie joined in.
Kirby wiped his eyes, his grin a shadow of his former self but a grin, nevertheless. “God, it’s good to see you.” He lifted his pants and extended his leg. “Carbon. Latest issue. The best money can buy.”
“Comfortable?”
“Hurts like hell most of the time, but I’m getting there.”
Conor stood and gave Ellie his most reassuring look. “Why don’t you give us some guy time? I’ll keep little Emory if you don’t mind. We have to train him up right.”
“God forbid,” Ellie said. But she handed over her son without protest. “I’ll have lunch ready in half an hour.”
Kirby nodded. “Thanks, sis.”
When Ellie left the room, Conor juggled the baby. He’d assumed, and rightly so, that Emory’s presence would fill any awkward silences. “So how are you really doing?”
Kirby grimaced. “Honest to God, I don’t know, Conor. Most mornings when I wake up, it still seems like a dream, until I try to stand up and forget I don’t have the damned prosthesis on. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve nearly fallen on my face.”
“Ellie worries about you.”
“I know. She and my parents have been great through all of this. But sometimes I feel a little bit...”
“Smothered?”
Kirby glanced at the doorway and lowered his voice. “Yes. But she’s been so good to me, Conor. I don’t think I would have made it without her. So how can I tell her I need some space?”
“Maybe you won’t have to. You and I have years to catch up on. If we’re hanging out doing stuff, Ellie will be delighted, and it will give you a chance to venture out of the nest.”
“So now I’m a baby bird?”
Kirby’s disgruntled expression made Conor chuckle. “Bad analogy. But seriously...what do you think of the idea?”
“I’m on board. These walls have been closing in on me.”
“Good.” Conor paused, feeling vaguely guilty for what he was about to do. “Ellie told me a lot about you and her parents, but she’s been reticent about herself. What does she do for a living? I assume she’s on maternity leave?”
“Not exactly. She has degrees in political science and international affairs. Speaks several languages. A number of years ago she began working as a cultural attaché at one of the embassies in Buenos Aires. She’s brilliant, Conor. But when I had my accident, she resigned to take care of me. And then, of course, the baby came along...”
“I see.” Conor did see. Ellie was devoted to her twin. Generous and compassionate. But one more question loomed. He lowered his voice, not wanting Ellie to know he was snooping. “What about her husband? Are they divorced?”
“No.”
The negative sent Conor’s stomach into a free fall. “Oh.” Disappointment knotted his chest.
Kirby shook his head, his gaze troubled. “She didn’t tell you?”
Conor frowned. “Tell me what?”
“Ellie’s husband Kevin was climbing with me when I had my accident. He fell also. Died of a broken neck. Didn’t even know he was going to be a father.”
* * *
Ellie set the large kitchen table for four and pulled the high chair to one end. She unwrapped all the food with a raised eyebrow. Conor had spared no expense. But the Kavanaghs were extremely wealthy, so it was no surprise. Their ancestors had discovered silver in these mountains several generations ago and thus solidified the family fortunes.
The town of Silver Glen was a popular destination for celebrities and public figures who wanted to get away from it all. The charming shops and wonderful restaurants, combined with year-round recreational opportunities, appealed to a well-heeled crowd.
The advisory council had taken careful measures to limit overbuilding and to keep the Alpine flavor of the community intact. Their care paid off. The Silver Beeches Lodge and the multitude of bed-and-breakfasts in town rarely had openings unless a patron booked months in advance.
Ellie checked her watch. She had given Kirby and Conor plenty of time. Taking a moment to summon her grandfather, she then returned to the living room. “Lunch is ready,” she said, glancing from her brother to his best friend. The two men appeared to be enjoying themselves. Emory was curled against Conor’s chest playing with a teething ring.
The meal turned out to be an awkward affair. Ellie’s grandfather floated in and out, one minute coherent, the next saying bizarre things that made Ellie sad and discouraged. It was hard to see a loved one deteriorate.
At one point, Grandpa Porter sat straight up in his ladder-back chair and pointed an accusing finger at Conor. “I remember you,” he said. “You used to have a soft spot for my little granddaughter, Ellie.”
Though Ellie flushed with mortification, Conor took it all in stride. “Yes sir, I did. But that was a long time ago.”
Kirby intervened. “Do you want some cake, Grandpa? It’s homemade.”
The ruse distracted the old man, fortunately. Ellie couldn’t decide what was going on with Conor. He and Kirby laughed and joked together as if they had never been apart, but Conor scarcely looked at Ellie. Fortunately, Emory demanded much of her attention.
When