by Peggy Jaeger
“I can see m’self out.” He gave me a wink and pressed my shoulder.
I swear I heard Lucas growl.
“Chief. Young man.” A moment later he was gone.
I plated the sandwiches and handed Robert two glasses. “Pour some milk.”
“That guy’s pretty touchy,” he said as he lifted the carton.
“What do you mean?” Lucas asked.
He hitched a shoulder and snuck a glance at me. “He kept touching Maureen while he was showing us those drawings. Like, on purpose.”
“I don’t think it was on purpose,” I told him, waving it off. “We were pretty crowded around the table, which is why I wanted to look at the plans in my office, so we could spread them out and not be bumping into one other.”
Robert shook his head. “I don’t think it was by mistake. I thought we weren’t supposed to touch people without their permission. I mean”—he tossed a quick glance at his father—“we get talked at about personal space and crap all the time in school. Mom’s forever grilling it into me, too.”
“Was he handsy?” Lucas asked me. “Did he make you feel uncomfortable?”
I rolled my eyes. Lord, protect me from alpha males and their cubs.
“Honestly, no.” I shrugged. “He’s a harmless flirt, like my grandmother. And—” I pointed a finger at Lucas before he could ask another question. He closed his mouth. “—before you tell me it’s not the same, don’t. Now eat, then get on home, the both of you. I’ve got work to do.”
“Maureen—”
“Don’t, Lucas. We already discussed this once today, and you know how it ended. I don’t want to go over it all again.”
His lips tightened, but he didn’t argue with me this time. If Robert hadn’t been sitting across from him, he might have, but he let it go, for which I was thankful.
I had no personal interest in Donovan Boyd and certainly didn’t want to discuss him with the man whom I did.
I went to speak with one of the guests who had a question and left them to finish their snack.
“Robert wants to come with us tomorrow. I mean, if you’re still willing to go shopping,” Lucas said when I came back. “When I told him about you helping me pick out a tux, I realized he didn’t have any dress clothes with him. I want to get him something appropriate to wear to Cathy’s wedding. Okay with you? Can you spare him? I don’t want to leave you shorthanded.”
I grinned over at the boy in question. “I think the inn will survive without the both of us for a few hours, don’t you?”
One corner of his lips lifted. A tiny milk mustache lined his upper lip, and he was so adorable I wanted to hug him. I loved this boy as much as if he were my own.
My heart pinged as I thought for the first time what it would be like if he were. Or if I had one of my own children to love and cherish. It was a dream I hadn’t allowed myself in several years.
Since Eileen’s diagnosis and subsequent death, I’d tossed out all thoughts of having my own family. The reason, to my mind, was a valid one. As twins we shared everything, the most important of which was our DNA. Eileen’s cancer had been rare, but as her genetic clone, the fear the same cancer was somewhere looming about in me waiting to break free was always on my mind.
After Eileen’s diagnosis, Cathy and Colleen had been tested to see if they carried the same rare genetic trait for the breast cancer she’d been afflicted with. Thankfully, they were both clear of it. I’d told them, when asked, I’d been tested too, which was a bold-faced lie, because I hadn’t.
The reason why was easy: I was terrified of the results.
I knew in my head I should get tested to alleviate the worry of not knowing. I even suspected that dread was the basis for all my sleepless nights. But the fear the test would confirm I was actually a carrier of the gene was so overpowering, every time I made an appointment to get tested, I canceled it.
By not knowing for certain whether or not I was afflicted, I was able to convince myself all was well. By getting tested and possibly confirming the diagnosis, I was committing myself to a death sentence.
I’d argued with myself time after time if the disease were going to rear its head, it would have done so already, since everything else in our lives had coincided. We’d gotten our first tooth within days of one another, taken our first steps the same morning. We liked and disliked most of the same foods, and each of us had an allergy to pineapple. My period had started three hours after Eileen’s. I’d been born four minutes after her, but my life had run along the same course as hers. Why wouldn’t the cancer do the same if it were, in fact, part of me? Eileen had been dead three years, and if the cancer were going to develop, conventional wisdom stated it would have by now.
And even knowing that, I still didn’t have the courage to be tested.
So many nights I’d stood in my kitchen, trying to bake away the anxiety. It was one of the main reasons I’d never told Lucas how I felt about him. It wasn’t fair to either of us for me to confess my love. I couldn’t start a romantic relationship with him, no matter how much I wanted to, for fear it would be ruined with a cancer potentiality.
The logical portion of my brain called me an idiot more times than I could remember, but I was leading with my heart here and making most of my decisions based on emotions and not logic. I didn’t feel it was fair to Lucas or any man to face a lover’s illness and death. It was the same reason I’d opted out of ever having children. It wasn’t right to leave them without a mother.
So I’d kept my feelings to myself, content with having him in my life as a friend. Well, maybe content wasn’t the correct word. Satisfied didn’t seem appropriate, either, when I thought about it.
Lucas rose and brought his plate and glass to the sink, his son, doing the same. “That’ll get me through the rest of my shift.”
“Do you have stuff for dinner?”
“Yeah, don’t worry. We won’t starve.”
“Never thought you would.”
His expression told me he wanted to say something else, but when his gaze flicked to Robert, who stood next to the counter with his hands slung in his pockets, I guess he thought better of it.
“I should be able to come free about one tomorrow. You never answered me. Are you still willing to go shopping?”
I told him I was while I mentally rearranged the staffing for lunch service so Robert and I would be able to leave without any concerns.
“Okay, well, then, we’ll see you in the morning.”
I walked them to the front door and then watched as they drove off in Lucas’s squad car.
Hours later when the inn was quiet for the night, my guests were all snuggled down, and I’d put the finishing touches on the wedding cake for Friday’s event, my phone pinged with an incoming message from Cathy.
—You up?—
I replied back I was. Two seconds later, my phone rang.
“It’s almost one a.m.,” I said without preamble. “Why are you still awake? Don’t you have court in the morning?”
“I do, and I’m going to be a basket case, I know. But my mind won’t calm down.”
“What’s the matter?” I sat down at my kitchen table and lifted my feet to the opposite chair.
“I need you to talk me off a ledge.”
“About what?”
“Pick a topic. The wedding. The baby. Mom and Dad. Work. Everything that could possibly go wrong next Saturday has been pounding through me for hours. I’m worried Colleen’s gonna go into labor right in the middle of the ceremony. I’m stressing Mom and Dad won’t come and Mac will leave me at the altar, realizing he doesn’t really want to be married to me. I had a dream last night Father Duncan died during the ceremony, and we never got the chance to say our I do’s. Mac used it for his get-out-of-jail-free card.”
She dragged in a deep breath, and right then I realized how close to the proverbial ledge she was. This wasn’t my sister, not in any way, shape, or form. Cathleen Anne O’Dowd Mulvaney was the most logica
l, unemotional sister of us all. Nothing usually fazed her.
She was a great deal like Lucas in that regard.
“I feel like I’m going insane,” she said, “and can’t stop it.”
“Okay, first of all, you’re not going insane. You’re the most sane human being I’ve ever known. What you’re experiencing is normal nerves, Cathy, something alien to you so you don’t know how to handle them.”
“If this is simple nerves, then I’m a porn star.”
“Okay, why that analogy popped into your head I do not want to know. But”—I took my own breath—“Mom and Dad are definitely coming. They asked me to keep a room open for them, and I have. They’ll be here the night before the wedding, so stop worrying.” Before she could steamroll over me, which she had a habit of doing, I continued. “Colleen going into labor is a possibility, and if it happens, we’ll deal with it. Or rather, Slade will. I’m your maid of honor, not her. I will be there to support you whether she’s in the hospital or not.”
I heard her sigh through the receiver.
“The baby is fine. You had a checkup the other day, and the doctor told you all was well. You’re pushing your concerns about Colleen and all this Braxton Hicks crap onto yourself. Stop. And for the love of Mike, Mac Frayne loves you more than any man ever has, including your late husband. His face lights up the moment he sees you come into a room. He follows you everywhere like your new puppy, with the same goofy expression on his face the pup has. The only difference is Mac keeps his tongue in his mouth, unlike Georgie.”
A strangled laugh sailed through the line.
“Complete adoration and love is what the man has for you. He’s not gonna realize he made a mistake, because he knows he hasn’t. God, Cath, he loves you for being who you are.” I shook my head, my own sigh blowing through my lips. “Now stop all this nonsense and unnecessary falderal and go to bed.”
She sniffed, then blew her nose. “When did you start using words like falderal?”
“It was today’s entry on my word-of-the-day calendar.”
Her laugh came fast. “Sounds like something Nanny would say if she were scolding us.”
“I’m sure it’s in her never-ending and always-expanding lexicon.”
Another sigh met my ears. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Being this way. It’s ridiculous, I know, but I’m so jumpy and I can’t figure out why.”
“One word, sister dear: cookies.”
She laughed again. “That cupcake you sneaked into my go-bag didn’t help, you know. I ate it first.”
“Your body is on such a sugar high right now, it’s no wonder your brain can’t calm down. Go downstairs and make yourself a cup of chamomile tea, bring it into bed along with one of those dry legal journals you’re always reading, and I’m sure you’ll fall asleep from boredom in no time. And stop fixating on all the things that might go wrong on your wedding day and start thinking about all the wonderful things that are going to happen, instead. You’re marrying one of the best men I’ve ever known, Cath, and he adores you. I know you realize how lucky you are.”
“I do. Ha-ha. You got me to practice for my vows.”
With a shake of my head, I blew her a raspberry. “Go to bed, Cathleen Anne.”
“Who died and made you the older, bossier sister?”
“It was a coup. I’m hanging up now.”
“Okay, I get it. Thanks for being my ledge-talker-off-er. Love you.”
“Love you more.”
I put my phone down on the table and rubbed my eyes with the pads of my fingers. I knew exactly what Cathy was experiencing, because my mind, like hers was tonight, never settled down. Hence, the baking insomnia.
In an effort to conquer it, I shut the lights and made my way up the stairs to my apartment at the back end of the inn, after first making my own cup of chamomile tea to bring with me.
Chapter 7
“Dad, this is the third place.” Robert groaned. “I’m tired, and I’m hungry.”
I flicked a glance at Lucas’s face. His frustration at not finding a store that could accommodate him for the short-notice tux rental was evident in his tired eyes and downturned mouth. His son’s whining wasn’t helping the situation.
“Let’s see what their turn-around time is, Bobby-Boy. Then we can take a break. Okay?”
His answer was a typical teen’s: he shrugged and slammed his hands into his jeans’ pockets.
“Come on.” I walked into the store with the two of them behind me.
I’d spent years following in Eileen’s wake whenever the shopping bug hit her. She would flit from store to store, pick out a bunch of items, try them on and evaluate how she looked, and then we’d move on to the next store until she found exactly what she wanted. Since she never knew what it was until she found it, I was familiar with the shopping frustration both these men were suffering through.
I went up to the cashier’s desk and asked if they would be able to have a tuxedo ready in the time frame we needed and was told it wouldn’t be a problem. When I pointed to Lucas, the cashier repeated his statement.
“We get last-minute rental requests all the time and for all body types,” he told us, waving a hand in the air as if it weren’t an issue at all. For the first time in an hour, Lucas’s shoulders relaxed.
The cashier brought us to a fitter who asked about the type of suit and cut we were looking for. Lucas deferred to me on this, thankfully, because I didn’t think his “something that won’t make me feel like a sausage” was the description they were looking for.
The fitter escorted Lucas into a room to take his measurements, and Robert followed me while I browsed around the store.
“Your dad wants you to get a suit for Cathy’s wedding,” I said while I rifled through the hundreds of choices on the retail racks. “Do you have any idea what you want? Dark colored? Light? Patterned?”
His answer was another shrug.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He shook his head and glanced down at his sneakered feet.
It was obvious Robert had no siblings, and sisters most of all, because if he had he would have known it wasn’t in our makeup to let a crappy mood go by unchecked. I’d dealt with all kinds of temperaments and grumpiness from my own sisters my entire life. A cranky fifteen-year-old was nothing.
Ignoring his noncommunicativeness, I pulled jackets in various cuts and colors from the rack, chatting nonstop as I did. I’d ask him a question, then answer it myself. After I held up a series of jackets against his torso, he finally snapped out of his petulance and started voicing his opinions on what I’d shown him. I gave myself a mental high five when we found a suit in his size we both liked.
“Go try it on,” I told him.
Just as he was about to enter the fitting room, his father emerged.
Lucas Alexander was a man born to wear a uniform. He’d filled out his army fatigues and dress uniforms to perfection, every inch of broad shoulder and narrow waist outlined. Each time I saw him in his police uniform my knees grew soft. But bedecked in a midnight black, double-breasted tuxedo waistcoat with a starched white shirt under it, a black bow tie, and straight-edged trousers with a front pleat so defined and sharp you could slice a piece of cheese on them, the man could have stepped off a bridal-fashion-show runway.
Those shoulders spanning a yard from pad to pad were held snug and drew over bulging biceps to taper to his trim waist.
My vision narrowed and tunneled so all I could see was him. I think I gasped, audibly, because both father and son gaped at me, questions on their faces.
“What do you think?” Lucas asked me as he glanced from me to his son and back again. “Is this what Cathy’s looking for?”
“You look good, Dad.”
He thanked his son, but his attention remained on me. “Maureen? What do you think?”
There was no way I could answer truthfully and not make a total fool of myself. I wanted to tell him he was th
e handsomest man I’d ever seen, that I wished the tux was for our wedding instead of my sister’s, and I wanted nothing more than to rip it off him and jump into his arms.
Yeah, I can imagine what would have happened if I’d said all this, and not one scenario ended without me being sent to a psychiatric ward for observation.
So, I kept my truths to myself and told him, “I agree with Robert. It looks good. Exactly what Cathy is going for.”
The fact my voice shook and sounded as if I needed an inhaler I hoped would go unnoticed.
“You sure?” Lucas cocked one eyebrow to his hairline.
“Yes. It’s formal enough for her idea of the wedding without being over the top. Mac has a waistcoat, too, so I think this choice is the best.”
“Okay. If you’re sure.”
Father and son disappeared into their prospective dressing rooms. Alone now, I fell into a cushioned chair and fanned myself. Thank God I’d seen Lucas in his tux before the wedding. I was going to be nervous enough as it was on the big day. If I’d gotten my first gander at him looking like an old-fashioned movie star from the 1930s come to life right before walking down the center of the church, I can be sure I would have tripped going up the aisle, my focus and every thought centered on the man.
Robert emerged from the dressing room first. He’d donned the trousers with his beat-up sneakers still on, and the jacket over his T-shirt. If the look he was going for was baby-rock-star wannabe, he’d met the requirements. I wanted to tell him how adorable he was but knew I’d embarrass him if I did.
“How does the fit feel?” I asked when he went to stand in front of the tri-mirror. “Not too tight? Not too loose anywhere?”
“It feels good. Like it fits, you know? Does it look okay?”
“It looks great, and you look good in it.”
Lucas walked out of the dressing room in time to hear me.
“Maureen’s right,” he said, going to stand behind his son so they both faced the mirror. “The pants need to be hemmed a bit, but it looks good on you. Do you like it?”
He shrugged as an answer. I called a fitter over, and he checked the fit personally, agreeing the pants needed to be shortened.
