"I got in an hour ago." Trey straightened his tie and gave him a frown. "You couldn't dress up for this, Devlin?"
"You're not in Boston anymore, Trey. This is King Harbor." He thought his tan slacks and light-blue button-down shirt were perfect for his mom's sixtieth birthday party. "And it's just family and a few close friends."
"Actually, that's not true. Not just the family is coming."
"What are you talking about?"
"Dad invited some of our business associates to the party."
"Like who?"
"The McKinney brothers."
He raised an eyebrow. The McKinney brothers distributed rival whisky brands around the country. "Dad hates the McKinney brothers."
"Not since we made them an offer to acquire their company. It would be a coup to take over their distribution network."
"I can't believe they want to sell."
"The older McKinney is battling cancer, and his younger brother wants to retire to Hawaii. They think it might be time to get out. None of their sons or daughters are interested in taking over the company." Trey paused, giving him a sharp look. "I'm surprised you didn't know that. We've been talking about it for months."
"I've been busy lately."
"We're all busy. You should pay more attention to the whisky business. It's what funds the Boatworks."
He didn't rise to Trey's bait. He didn't care that his business wasn't the biggest moneymaker in the company; he was doing what he loved, and that was enough. He'd learned early on that life was short—sometimes brutally short.
"Let's go inside," he said, opening the door for his brother.
As they stepped into the entry, he could hear laughter and conversation coming from the living room. Before they could move in that direction, his cousin Brock came jogging down the stairs.
Like Trey, Brock was also in a suit, as befitting the senior vice president of brand management and the keeper of the Blackthorne brand.
"Devlin," Brock said with a welcoming smile. "Good to see you."
"You, too. Trey was telling me this isn't just a birthday party but also a business meeting."
"Your father likes to multitask," Brock replied with a shrug. "But we'll make sure it doesn't take away from Aunt Claire's birthday."
"I hope so," he murmured.
"I want to talk to you, Brock, before we see Dad," Trey said. "Devlin, do you mind?"
"Go ahead. The last thing I want to do is talk business right now."
As his brother and cousin walked down the hall, the front door opened and two more Blackthornes entered the house: his cousins, Jason and Phillip. Jason wore jeans and a white T-shirt under a navy-blue blazer and had his phone pressed to his ear. He gave him a vague wave as he walked by.
"Devlin," Phillip said with a smile, giving him a hearty hug. "Good to see you."
"You, too. Did you come with Jason?"
"No. We met in the driveway, but he's been on the phone since he got out of the car, so I haven't actually spoken to him. He's in the midst of some TV negotiation. How's Aunt Claire? Is she feeling sixty?"
"I think this birthday might be bothering her a little."
"Really?" Phillip said with surprise. "She looks great."
"I know, but she mentioned to me the other day that sixty feels old to her. She seemed a little down."
"Well, hopefully this party will cheer her up. I have to admit I'm not used to seeing Aunt Claire in any kind of a down mood. She always has a smile on her face and is ready to deal with whatever life sends her way—like three orphaned teenage boys. I'll never be able to express my gratitude for the way she took in Jason, Brock and myself when our parents died."
"She didn't hesitate for even a second. Nor did my father." Graham wasn't always the most generous man, but when it came to family, he was incredibly loyal.
"Let's find the party. I could use a drink."
He followed Jason into the immense living room, which boasted a massive stone fireplace, two separate seating areas, and floor-to-ceiling windows offering impressive ocean views. There were about a dozen people in the room as well as two servers offering appetizers and glasses of champagne.
"Looks like the bar is on the patio," Phillip said, waving his hand toward the open French doors. "You want a beer or a whisky? Or are you going to have champagne?"
"A beer would be great."
As Phillip moved onto the patio, Devlin saw his youngest brother Logan talking to a very attractive redhead. Logan gave him a grinning nod and went back to his conversation. At least one of his brothers was here to have a good time.
A moment later, Phillip handed him an ice-cold bottle of beer.
"What is with Brock and Trey?" Phillip asked. "They look like they're going to a business meeting."
"Apparently, they are. My father invited some associates to the party." He frowned as his dad left his mother to join Brock, Trey and the McKinney brothers by the fireplace. "Mom doesn't look happy about it."
"I can't see why she would be," Phillip murmured. "Your father doesn't know when to shut it down."
"No, he does not. Let's talk to her."
They walked across the room, and his mother broke away from her conversation to give them both hugs and kisses.
"Happy birthday, Mom," he said.
"Thank you, honey." She turned to her nephew. "Phillip, I'm so glad you could come."
"I wouldn't miss it, Aunt Claire. You look beautiful. Not a day over thirty."
"You've always been a good liar," she said with a laugh.
"True. But tonight I only tell the truth," Phillip joked.
His mom let out a small sigh as her gaze moved to her husband. "I wish that was true of all the Blackthornes."
"Is something wrong, Mom?" he asked.
"Yes." She turned back to him. "I did not invite the McKinney brothers to my party. I can't believe your father is turning my birthday into another business opportunity. Actually, I can believe it; I'm just incredibly disappointed. I told him it was important to me to have all my friends and family together. But not only is he doing business, he has pulled Brock and Trey into it as well."
"We'll still have a good time," he said, trying to distract her.
"Yes," she murmured, but her gaze had lost its sparkle.
"Jason is here, too," Phillip put in.
"I saw him walk out to the patio, but I haven't had a chance to say hello; he's been on the phone the whole time. More business. Everyone has something else they'd rather be doing," she complained.
"I'll get my brother off the phone," Phillip offered.
"Oh, it doesn't matter," she said, waving her hand in defeat. "I've finally given up."
His gaze narrowed at her words. "What does that mean, Mom?"
"You two—you and Phillip—you've always done what you wanted to do, followed your dreams. Phillip stepped away from the business despite the family pressure. And you, Devlin, you work your passion—the boats, the sailing. It's not just a job to you; it's your dream."
"You encouraged me to follow my dreams."
"I did. Perhaps I should have taken my own advice. It's important to do what you love, or at least to find out what you love. The years go very quickly, faster than you'll know until you get to be my age. Then you realize everything is behind you."
"There's a lot in front of you, too," he reminded her. "Are you all right, Mom? Is there something I can do? You seem a little upset."
"I thought this party would be different. Do you remember your father's sixtieth birthday party? Or the one he had last year for sixty-five?"
"I remember them both. We celebrated sixty in Monaco on a yacht and sixty-five in London with a few royals in the crowd." He paused. "Did you want a bigger party?"
"It's not about the party; it's about the intent."
He didn't know what she was talking about, but she was definitely worked up about something, and he had a feeling his dad was in the doghouse. "Tonight will be fun. We're all together."
&nbs
p; "Are we?" she asked cryptically. A glint of determination entered her eyes. "You know, Devlin, I think I've finally realized that the only person who can make me feel better is me. Will you excuse me?"
"Of course, but where are you going?"
"To do something I should have done a long time ago."
He wanted to ask her what that could possibly be, but she was already on her way out of the living room.
"What was that about?" Phillip asked with concern. "She seems very angry with Uncle Graham."
"She does." His parents had been married for thirty-seven years and while they'd had their share of arguments, they'd always seemed very solid. "Maybe it's just her birthday. She's feeling her age."
"Well, you might want to give your father a heads-up."
"I will, as soon as he gets done talking to the McKinney brothers. He won't hear me if he's trying to make a deal." He paused as his youngest brother Logan joined them.
"What's going on with Mom?" Logan asked. "She flew out of the room like a woman on a mission."
"I'm not sure. She seems to be upset with Dad for turning this party into a business meeting."
"What else is new?" Logan drawled. "It's Dad. It's what he does. She knows that."
"Maybe I should go talk to her," he said, not really sure he wanted to deal with his mother in the mood she was in. Before he could move, his grandmother, Fiona Blackthorne joined them.
The white-haired Fiona was dressed in a bright floral dress, her face perfectly made up, and long dangly earrings adding a bit of fun. At eighty-six, Fiona enjoyed being herself in as many bright colors as possible.
"Nana," he said, giving her a kiss. "You look very pretty."
"I know I do," she said with a happy smile. "Thanks for noticing, Devlin. Where is your mother?"
"I'm not sure. She walked out of the room a few minutes ago. She's unhappy that Dad is doing business tonight."
Fiona's gaze moved to Graham, and she sighed. "My son can be an idiot."
"I can't disagree."
"Sometimes I wonder how he has managed to hang on to Claire for as long as he has. She has always been a beautiful and popular lady. He had to work hard to get her attention in the first place. She had all kind of suitors back in the day. But he was determined to win her, and he did. I'm not sure he's putting in that same kind of effort now." She paused, her gaze moving back to them. "Anyway, what is going on with all of you? Any new ladies? Logan, I saw you talking to a very pretty woman," Fiona said with a sly smile in Logan's direction. "Did you bring her with you?"
Logan grinned. "No. That's actually Rhea Holmes, Tom and Laura's daughter."
"Oh, goodness, I didn't even recognize her. So, she's not your date."
"No, I came on my own." Fiona turned to Phillip. "And you, dear?"
"No news. Just working away."
"You're still enjoying the non-profit sector?"
"Absolutely. Sending kids who have suffered a tragic loss to camp is the best thing I've ever done."
"Who better to understand the loss of a parent than you," Fiona said gently. "Mark and Julie would be so proud of you, Phillip."
"I hope so."
His grandmother's gaze came to rest on him. "I hear you've been burning the midnight oil at the Boatworks."
"I have. Not only is the race coming up in two weeks, but we also have quite a few orders that need to be finished before summer is officially here, and now I'm shorthanded."
"Yes, what happened with Frank Reid?" she asked with a gleam of curiosity. "I don't understand why he's no longer working there."
"You'd have to ask Dad. He fired Frank, and he won't tell me why. But he needs to rehire him as soon as possible."
"Wait," Logan cut in, surprise in his eyes. "Dad fired Frank? That's crazy. He's been with the business for thirty years. He is the business—no offense, Devlin."
"None taken. I agree. No one matches Frank in experience and loyalty to the company."
"Well, your father seems to be causing a lot of turmoil these days," Fiona said, with an unhappy shake of her head. "I don't think it's deliberate. But he gets busy and wrapped up in his own ideas, and he takes people for granted. One of you should go get Claire. She needs to be here, surrounded by her friends and family."
"I could do that," he said.
"You don't have to," Logan interrupted. "Mom is back, but something is wrong."
His gaze moved to the doorway where his mother stood. She was no longer wearing her party dress but rather dark jeans and a sweater. And as she stepped over the threshold, he thought he saw a suitcase on the floor behind her. His gut tightened.
She clapped her hands, drawing everyone's attention.
"Thank you all for coming to my party," she said loudly. "I hope you enjoy yourselves. There's plenty of food and drinks. And I know some of you haven't seen each other in a while, so this will be a good time for you to catch up. But as for me, I'll be leaving."
"What?" Graham asked, his booming voice ringing out across the room.
His mother's gaze swung to Graham. She put up a hand as he started forward.
"No," she said, shaking her head. "Not this time. You won't talk me out of it. I'm leaving, Graham. Inviting your business associates to my birthday party was the last straw. I have given you my life for the last thirty-seven years—"
"Claire—"
"It's my turn to talk."
"Then let's go in the other room."
"Why? Because this party doesn't just include the family and close friends that I requested?"
"You're making a scene," Graham barked.
"Well, it's my party; I get to do that, don't I?"
"What is going on?" he hissed.
"I'll tell you," she said, her voice choking with emotion as she looked at her husband. "I have done everything you wanted, Graham. I have supported you in every possible way. I have been there since day one. I have seen you through every hardship, every business deal, every joy, every pain. And I always thought that one day you would be there for me, that it would be my turn, but even after I told you how worrying this birthday was for me, you decided that business was more important. Well, I'm done putting my life on hold. I've been by your side, in your shadow for way too long. I've kept your secret, even when I knew I shouldn't. It's too much. I can't do it anymore."
"Claire, stop," Graham commanded.
"I will stop talking, because it's time for me to leave. It's time for me to put myself first. Don't try to stop me, Graham."
She turned and walked out of the room, leaving shocked silence behind her. His father seemed frozen for a moment, but then he stomped out of the room.
Devlin moved toward the doorway, crossing the threshold just in time to see his mother walk out the front door, accompanied by their handyman, Joe O'Reilly, who was carrying her suitcase.
"Do not drive her anywhere, Joe," Graham ordered.
Joe shrugged. "Sorry. She asked."
"Don't take this out on him," Claire told Graham. "Go back to your party."
"It's your party," Graham said. "This is ridiculous, Claire. You're acting crazy."
Devlin winced at his father's thoughtless words.
His mother slammed the door in his father's face.
Graham's hands clenched into fists, and for a minute Devlin thought his dad would go after her, but then he turned around and saw everyone looking at him. In typical Blackthorne style, he threw back his shoulders, lifted his chin and faced the crowd head-on.
"It will be fine," his father said loudly, confidently. "Claire is having a bit of trouble coming to terms with her birthday, entering a new decade and all that. Don't worry. She'll be back. Please, drink, eat, enjoy being with each other, as Claire asked you to do."
He had to admit he was impressed with his father's ability to spin the situation so quickly.
The front door opened, and his father started, clearly thinking Claire had changed her mind and come back.
But it wasn't his mother who stepped i
nto the entry; it was his younger brother Ross, who was late, as usual.
"Hello," Ross began cheerfully, then stopped, obviously taking in the tension in the room. "What did I miss?"
His father just shook his head. "I'm sure someone will fill you in, Ross." Then he brushed by Devlin, taking the crowd back into the living room.
"Seriously, what did I miss?" Ross asked him.
"Not much," he replied dryly. "Except Mom just left Dad."
"What? You're kidding, right?"
"You should try to be on time once in a while."
"Mom is really gone? Where?"
His gaze moved toward the front door. "I have no idea."
Chapter Two
Despite his father's encouragement for their guests to enjoy the party, within an hour, everyone was gone, including his dad. Now he was sitting around the large table on the patio, with his three brothers, three cousins, and his grandmother, who was pouring them each a glass of Blackthorne Gold whisky.
"It's all going to be fine," Fiona told them. "Graham and Claire will work things out."
He wanted to believe that, but he wasn't so sure, and he saw doubt on a few other faces, along with some guilt.
"I had no idea Mom would be that upset about the McKinney brothers coming to the party," Trey said.
"Nor did I," Brock put in. "It's not like we haven't done business at parties before."
"I didn't even get a chance to speak to Claire," Jason said, more guilt in his eyes. "I was on the phone when she tried to speak to me."
"None of you are to blame for what happened tonight," Fiona said, drawing their attention back to her. "Obviously, your father has been taking your mother for granted, and she had enough."
"Where do you think she went?" Logan asked curiously.
Devlin Page 2
