Her Unexpected Family. Ruth Logan Herne
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two stops tonight, one at five thirty and one at seven, and then tomorrow night at six for the third venue. I’m sorry you didn’t get it.”
“Nope, not here,” he replied, but then he noticed his spam folder wasn’t empty. There it was, an email from Kate & Company. “Wait, I lied. Your email got spammed.”
She laughed, and he realized it was a nice laugh, soft and kind. The kind of laugh that made you feel better about things and made small children giggle out loud. Like Dolly did last week. “So are we okay for tonight?” she asked. “Do you have someone who can watch Timmy and Dolly?”
She remembered their names.
Why did that mean something?
He didn’t know why, but it did because almost everyone referred to them as a set. How are the twins? Can you bring the twins? Hey, Grant, I saw the twins yesterday...
Hearing her call them by name sloughed off some of his gruffness. “Aunt Tillie and Uncle Percy are coming over. They’ll stay as late as they need to.”
“Perfect. I’ll meet you at the Edgewater Inn for the first appointment at five thirty. We can go on from there.”
“I’ll see you then.”
He went through the day going over a winter preparedness checklist with the town staff. Being ready for winter storms meant planning in advance, and as they rechecked everything from salt to backup plow blades and which roads had botched pothole patches rising above road level, his eyes strayed to the big round clock on the wall several times.
“Boss, you got an appointment?” Jeannie Delgado asked around four thirty. “Because you’ve had your eye on that clock the past hour.”
“I do, so let’s call an end to this meeting.” He stood, gathered his things and pulled his jacket on. “I’ve got to get the kids home to Tillie. I’m meeting with the wedding planner the next two nights so we can pick things for Christa’s wedding.”
“Marvelous!” Jeannie’s inflection offered full approval. “You’re a good brother, Grant. So many folks don’t bother with family these days. Having family around is a wonderful thing. Enjoy your evening and if they give out samples of cake, bring a few back here tomorrow.”
“Cake is on Friday’s schedule, on my lunch hour,” he told her. “And I haven’t even begun to figure out how Christa’s going to search for a wedding gown. How do you find a wedding gown from overseas? Buy it there and ship it back?”
“I have no idea.” Jeannie frowned. “Maybe she’ll buy it online, have it delivered here then have it altered at the last minute?”
He’d been feeling pretty good about checking out reception spots. Food he understood, and as the man in charge of a multimillion-dollar town highway budget, he had a great head for numbers. But ribbons and lace? Flowers?
No, no, and no.
Circumstances left him little choice, so he drove to day care, picked up two busy children, dealt with Dolly’s backseat anger issues for over five miles and got them home to Aunt Tillie. Then he showered and changed, got back in the car and drove to the Edgewater Inn. He arrived five minutes early, something that didn’t happen often now that he was a single dad. When Emily Gallagher pulled into the lot driving a cherry-red SUV, he realized anew that this woman had spent her life being noticed and didn’t mind it in the least. Just knowing that made him want—no...make that need—to keep a distance. He’d lived that scenario once. He had no intention of living it again.
“You made it.” She smiled a welcome as he walked toward her.
“I did.”
“Excellent. Now, when we get inside the new chef’s name is Henry, but he likes to be called Henri, so when I do that to appease his somewhat crazy artistic nature, don’t laugh. Okay?”
“Well, now I’ll have to laugh because you mentioned it,” he admitted. “If you’d said nothing, I’d have simply assumed that Henri was his name.”
“So I’m safer if I leave you in the dark? If I refuse to spill any insider wedding-planning secrets?”
Hints of gold brightened her brown eyes, and standing this close, he realized tiny points of ivory lightened the darkness around her pupil, giving her a winsome look that matched her bright smile.
Except he was immune to bright smiles and winsome was overrated. “I can handle secrets on a limited basis. The problem with telling me information is that I might mess up everything by blurting it out at the worst possible time.”
“I consider myself forewarned.” She walked to the well-lit formal entrance. He reached out to draw the door open. She had to duck under his arm to go in, and when she straightened on the other side, the dark green wool of her coat brushed his cheek.
The delicious vanilla scent made him think of country kitchens, warm fires and snow-filled nights. When she shifted to face him as they moved down the broad hall, the combination of bright eyes, gorgeous hair, soft scent and subtle lipstick made him long to draw closer.
He couldn’t, but he wanted to and that was a dangerous combination. He had a job to do, two jobs, actually. Raising two kids on his own wasn’t ever going to be a simple task, and running the town’s highway force kept thousands of people safe every day. No way could he afford to have his attention split, but the minute they walked into the inn manager’s office and Emily shrugged off her coat, he realized working with Emily for the next two months wasn’t going to be a walk in the park.
His ex-wife had always said redheads should never wear pink.
She was wrong about that and a great many other things, because Emily Gallagher tossed that mane of auburn hair over the shoulder of a hot-pink dress, slipped into the upholstered chair the inn manager offered and withdrew her electronic notepad with finesse. If Chef Henri kept looking at her like that, Grant was tempted to give him a firm right jab to the chin. “Henry?”
The chef turned, obviously miffed by his pronunciation, but Grant didn’t care. At least the guy stopped eyeing Emily.
“Henri.” The chef’s haughty manner was an instant turnoff, but the dishes they sampled were magnificent. For great food and a reasonable price, Grant could deal with Henri’s arrogance if he needed to.
“This raspberry reduction with the burgundy and nut-crusted pork is amazing.” Emily made a note on her tablet. “And those mushroom potatoes? Henri, I’d love to learn how to make those. I don’t suppose you’d share the recipe, would you?”
Henri laughed and didn’t look the least bit humble. “Henri has, of course, studied much to achieve the pinnacles of food, so no, I cannot share the chef’s secrets I’ve acquired, but I will be happy now just knowing you approve.”
The inn manager cleared his throat, as if reminding the chef that the final decision wasn’t up to Emily. The chef redirected his attention to Grant with a slight huff, then waited while Grant sampled a charbroiled steak with mushroom, bread and herb stuffing. “Amazing. This is tricky enough to create for one person, much less re-creating it for over a hundred. You’ve outdone yourself, Henri.”
His compliment must have soothed the cook’s ruffled feathers because he held up a hand. “One moment.” He disappeared, then reappeared with two crystal cups, filled with something warm and sweet. “A treat to sample. This is a delicious way to wrap up a crisp evening, no?”
Grant tasted his, and he was about to sing the dessert’s praises when Emily sighed and held her glass aloft after one spoonful. “Perfection in a cup. The hint of caramel balances the background of cinnamon, and is that nutmeg or allspice I taste?”
Henri beamed and shrugged, ready to carry the secret to his grave.
“Nutmeg,” she decided. She took another taste, then smiled again. “Clever, Henri! And delicious. What did you think, Mr. McCarthy?”
Right now having her