Becoming a Cavanaugh. Marie Ferrarella
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he had. Liver failure claimed him, taking him, in her opinion, years before his time.
Lost in thought and wishful thinking as she scanned the large group of people, she suddenly felt a large hand on her shoulder. Turning, she saw a tall, smiling man with the kindest blue eyes she’d ever seen. He’d placed himself between her and her new partner.
Instinctively, she knew this had to be Andrew Cavanaugh.
“You came!” he exclaimed, his booming voice echoing with both pleasure and surprise. He turned approving eyes toward the young woman with his brother’s son. “And you brought someone with you.”
Kyle nodded. “This is my new partner, Andrew. She’s new to Aurora and she asked me if I knew anyplace that served really good food.”
“And you brought her to me,” Andrew concluded, pleased. “Well, young lady, I hope you don’t come away disappointed. By the way, Kyle forgot to introduce us. I’m Andrew Cavanaugh.”
“Yes, I know,” Jaren said, shaking his hand. His grip was firm and warm. She noted that he didn’t insult her by weakening his grip in deference to her softer gender. She liked that. Nothing worse than a limp-wristed handshake. “My name is Jaren. Jaren Rosetti.”
“Rosetti,” Andrew repeated. His eyebrows drew together as he thought for a moment. “I used to know a Joe Rosetti. He was on the Oakland police force. Had an occasion to work with him early on. Great guy. Any relation?”
A spark of pride ignited. Until the end came when he had to be hospitalized, her father had somehow managed to be a functioning alcoholic, never drinking on the job, just continually from the moment he was off duty. He’d fooled a lot of people, she remembered.
“He was my father.”
“Was?” The concern in Andrew’s eyes was genuine. She liked him immediately.
Jaren nodded. “He died a couple of months ago.” It was still hard for her to say that. Harder still to imagine a world without Joe Rosetti.
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, Jaren. Your father was a good cop.” Somewhere in the distance, a timer went off, but Andrew continued talking to the young woman his nephew had brought into his house. “He must have been proud to see you follow in his footsteps.”
By the time she’d made it to the rank of detective, her father had retired from the force and been too wound up in his daily ritual of emptying wine bottles with Black Russian chasers to take much notice of anything.
Jaren knew that her smile was just a wee bit tight as she said, “I’d like to think so.” Was it her imagination, or had the chief’s eyes softened just a shade, as if he understood what wasn’t being said?
Andrew turned toward his nephew. “Why don’t you introduce Jaren around, Kyle? By the way, in case you’re wondering, your brother and sister are already here. You were the last holdout,” Andrew said with a soft laugh, as if he’d known all along that it would just be a matter of time before he was won over by the family. He clapped Kyle on the shoulder and said warmly, “Glad to see that you decided to make it. Wouldn’t have been the same without you.”
Kyle looked back into the house. The living room, the family room and parts beyond, including the backyard, were teeming with people.
“And how would you have noticed?” he asked dryly.
“Trust me,” Andrew assured him, “I would have noticed.” The timer sounded a second time. Andrew checked his watch. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to see to the main course.”
“He really does cook, then?” Jaren asked.
Kyle laughed. “You don’t know the half of it.”
She had never really mastered the kitchen. The best she could do was work with things that came in boxes and had the word helper in the title. Cooking for its own sake was a foreign concept to her. She’d been too busy juggling school, jobs—part-time and full—and caring for her delinquent father to spend any real time in the kitchen beyond cleaning up.
“He seems like a very nice man,” she observed as she watched the former chief retreat into his state-of-the-art kitchen.
“Yeah.” No matter how he felt—or didn’t feel—about becoming part of this close-knit clan, there was no denying the fact that Andrew Cavanaugh had done his damnedest to make the transition easy on all three of them. But he still wasn’t completely convinced that he wanted in.
He became aware that his new partner was studying him. When he glanced over at her, she asked, “And you’re actually related to him?”
He could see how she might doubt that, given their natures. “Yeah.”
“How?” The single word had launched itself out of her mouth before she could think to stop it.
He blew out a breath. “Do you ever stop asking questions?”
“Sure. Once I get the answers.”
Just because—in a moment of weakness he was beginning to regret—he’d felt sorry for her and brought her to this gathering, didn’t mean that he was going to bare his soul to her.
“If you get all the answers,” he told her, “then there’s nothing to look forward to.”
“Sure, there is,” she contradicted. “More questions—and answers.”
He wasn’t about to be cornered into a game of truth or dare with this woman. “Don’t make me regret bringing you here.”
Jaren knew when to back off. “I’ll do my best,” she promised.
They stood in the doorway of the living room for perhaps ten seconds before they were approached by another one of the Cavanaughs. This time, it was Patience, the only Cavanaugh besides Janelle who wasn’t a law-enforcement agent. Patience’s vocation lay with curing animals. Her involvement with the police department, other than through her sibling, cousins and uncles, was by being the official vet for the K-9 unit. Which was how she’d met her husband.
She was also Mike’s daughter and thus Kyle’s half sister, a connection she more than readily embraced. As she came toward them now, there was the same mixture of pleasure and surprise evident in her face that her uncle had displayed.
She brushed her lips against Kyle’s cheek, catching him off guard. “I didn’t think you were going to make it,” she confessed. Her eyes darted to Jaren’s face, then back to her newly discovered half brother. “And you brought a date?” It was more of a question than an assertion.
“I brought my partner,” Kyle corrected. “She was hungry and it’s a known fact that Andrew’s the best cook in town, so I just thought—”
Why was he even explaining himself? Kyle wondered. Maybe he shouldn’t have shown up at all. More than that, a part of him regretted pushing for recognition as Mike Cavanaugh’s son. He wasn’t even completely certain why he’d pushed the way he had. What had he hoped to accomplish? It wasn’t as if the man was still around to acknowledge the connection.
When he’d undertaken this little mission, he’d been prepared for fierce opposition. Just the opposite had occurred. He’d had dealings with the Cavanaughs before. Anyone who was on the force had had dealings with a member of the clan at one time or another. He’d always thought that they were a decent bunch of people. But even so, he’d expected them to be hostile to the idea that he and his siblings cast a shadow on Mike Cavanaugh’s name by turning up and claiming to be his offspring.
Nothing could have been further from the truth. He still didn’t quite understand why.
Patience hooked her arm through Jaren’s. “So, his new partner, huh? This should be interesting,” she prophesized. “By the way, I’m Patience, Kyle’s half sister. We shared a father,” she said matter-of-factly. “Let me take you around and introduce you, Jaren.”
Jaren