Dad for Charlie & the Sergeant's Temptation & the Alaskan Catch & New Year's Wedding (9781488015687)

by Stewart, Anna J. ; Sasson, Sophia; Carpenter, Beth; Jensen, Muriel

  Ben grinned. “My dad has a generator. I’m sure he’d be happy to bring it over.”

  Cassie smiled anew. “Great! We can set the tables and chairs outside, we’ll all wear our coats, and it’ll be great. Something to tell the grandchildren. The New Year’s Day wedding, outside and at dusk, with chandeliers and the best food anyone ever tasted, thanks to Grady’s mom and Helen.”

  “I like it!” Corie said on a laugh. “Ben, what do you think?”

  Ben caught Corie’s hand. “As long as we get married with our family and friends here, and I know we’re looking at a lifetime together, I think it’s a great idea.”

  “Yes!” Corie punched the air. “I’m going to cancel our hair appointments and we can use that time to split the invitation list and call everyone.”

  Cassie frowned. “No, you go get your hair done. I’ll stay here and—”

  “No. We’ll probably have to wear hats, anyway.”

  “Over your veil? Oh, that’ll be cute.”

  “Yeah, well, you almost had to wear boots to my wedding, so don’t be critical.”

  “Corie.” Cassie caught her hands as she reached into her pocket for her phone. “Are you sure it’s okay? I mean, I promised you elegance and style…”

  “It’ll still be elegant, just outside.” Corie hugged her. “How romantic is that? The New Year’s Day wedding, outside, at dusk, with standing chandeliers and the best food anyone’s ever tasted, just as you said. And my long-lost sister who pulled it all together and even saved it at the last minute. Who could ever want more than that?” She drew her hand away. “I’ll call Helen and ask her to tell Jack and Sarah. We left the kids with her last night so we could get ready with a little peace and quiet. Grady, want me to call your mom?”

  “Sure, if you don’t mind.” He stood as the fire chief approached him. Ben and Grady had often met Bart Daniels at the gym. His ability to bench press three times his weight was a source of jealousy.

  “It’s out, Grady,” the chief said, his protective mask pulled up. “I’m sorry about the water damage, but there’s not a lot we can do about that. I think we saved the sofa, and all the rented materials for Ben’s wedding, but that expensive-looking rug is a loss, as well as the table, and you might have to replace some balusters in your loft railing. Otherwise, except for smoke damage, it’s not too bad.”

  Grady shook his hand. “Thanks, Bart. I appreciate how quick you were.”

  “Sure. You know our slogan. ‘Send us to hell and we’ll put it out.’” Bart grinned. “And, when the call comes from the residence of a supermodel, no matter how temporarily she’s here, we do our best to come through.”

  Grady clapped his shoulder. “Whatever the reason, I appreciate it.”

  “What are you going to do about Ben’s wedding?”

  “Still happening. Same time. Wear a warm coat.”

  “All right. Come with me. I want to show you something that might give us a clue to what happened.”

  “Of course.” Grady turned to excuse himself to his companions, but Ben and Don were in conversation and Corie was making phone calls. He started to follow Bart.

  “I’d like to come,” Cassie said, holding tightly to her blanket.

  “Sure.” Grady put an arm around her and brought her along with them. The small table had been pulled outside, several yards from the door. It had been severely burned. The drawer was partially open.

  “I just had a look in here,” Bart said, reaching in with his big gloves to pull out the contents. “Since you said the table was fully engulfed when you ran through, I thought it might tell us something.”

  He opened the palm of his glove to reveal several barely recognizable cylinders and a melted set of keys.

  “I think this is the culprit.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CASSIE’S HEART BEGAN to thud. No. Oh, no, no, no! She still didn’t understand what had happened in that drawer, but she’d been the only one to put anything it. Was she responsible for this? She heard Grady swear under his breath.

  On the chance that it wasn’t her fault, she pointed to the cylindrical things and asked innocently, “What are those?”

  “Batteries,” Bart replied.

  She was going to be sick.

  “A lot of people don’t realize that loose batteries are combustible if the nodes make contact with metal for a prolonged period.” Bart’s thick-gloved index finger pointed out the puddle of metal in his other palm. “My guess is they made contact with these keys. That’s a small, shallow drawer. If the batteries are in their packaging, they’re safe, but when they’re loose…this is what can happen.”

  “I keep an extra set of keys in that drawer,” Grady said, sounding mystified, “but not batteries.”

  Cassie opened her mouth to say the words but they refused to come out. She had to draw a deep breath and wrap her arms tightly around herself, still clutching the blanket, almost physically pushing out the words. “I put them there.”

  Grady turned to her in confusion. “What? Why?” he asked.

  Now that she’d made herself speak, her words tumbled out. “They’re the extras for the standing chandeliers. They really eat up the battery power, so I wanted to be prepared. And I…” Her throat tightened, but she made herself say, “I took them out of the packaging to replace them quickly if I had to. I wanted things to be…perfect.” She put a hand to his arm, folded with the other across his chest. “I’m so sorry, Grady.” Her voice was choked. “I didn’t know that about batteries. I had no idea. And I didn’t know you had anything in there. I’m so, so sorry.”

  He didn’t move his arm but she felt the hard muscle under her fingertips react, as though he’d been touched by something hot—or unpleasant. And something shifted in his eyes. She saw fury ignite in them. He said nothing for a minute, carefully avoiding her gaze, then asked Bart, “Mind if I go inside now? Assess the damage?”

  “Sure. We’ll be here another hour or so, just to make sure there’s nothing else to be concerned about.” He patted Grady’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, man.” He gave Cassie a sympathetic look. “You’re not alone, Miss Chapman. We had a man who did something similar in the console in his car. He kept batteries for his kids’ electronic devices in there, and they were up against a DVD. Destroyed his car, his garage and part of the house.”

  Of course, there was little comfort for Cassie in that story, but she smiled thinly at the fire chief, knowing he meant to help.

  She followed Grady into the house, not knowing what to say, but needing him to look at her so she could try again to tell him how sorry she was.

  He turned when he heard her behind him and said quietly but with such suppressed anger in his voice that she stopped in her tracks, “Don’t come with me. There’s…debris everywhere.” He turned his back on her and walked inside.

  * * *

  EVERYTHING HE COULD see was in shambles. Very wet shambles. One arm of the sofa was burned, but the rest didn’t look too bad. The Oriental rug was destroyed, as was the chair his mother used to like to sit in in front of the fireplace, and the small table there. The bunting on the loft railing still hung in tatters, held by the blackened remnants of the blue ribbon. The loft balusters were burned but not destroyed. The bunting on the stairway hadn’t been touched by the fire, but was black with smoke and soaked from the hoses.

  His mind played back Cassie’s delight in that sparkly stuff—he couldn’t remember the name—and wondered what she’d think of how it looked now. He felt vaguely sympathetic for her but couldn’t help coming around to the old truth. If she hadn’t strained so hard for glamour and style, she wouldn’t be disappointed that much of her hard work—and his home—had been destroyed. Who needed battery-operated standing chandeliers? In Beggar’s Bay? On Black Bear Ridge Road?

  His efforts to sup
press his anger were making him snarky. He could feel it. Anger was finding its way out in nasty, critical thoughts.

  “Grady.” He turned at the sound of an unfamiliar voice and looked into Cassie’s sky blue eyes, now tortured and miserable. She folded her arms tightly together and squared her shoulders. She still wore the fire department’s blanket. “You have to tell me what you’re feeling,” she said.

  He looked away from her to the black and shredded bunting. “You won’t like it,” he said simply.

  “I know. But I think you have to say it, anyway.”

  When he shook his head and tried to walk away, she caught his arm. “I know you blame me. I didn’t know that could happen when I put the batteries in there, the fact of the fire is all my fault. You can say that.”

  “Okay.” While he still struggled to maintain control over his anger, he figured he was able to confirm what she believed. “It is all your fault. I know you didn’t mean to cause this…” He swept a hand at the mess before them, then dropped it to his side. “But you did. I know you’re sorry, but it doesn’t help much, so you don’t have to say it again.”

  She appeared to take that with good grace, though her hands worked nervously where she clasped them in front of her. “I wouldn’t have hurt you for the world.”

  Allowing himself that small latitude to let her know he blamed her seemed to be a get-out-of-jail-free card to the part of his anger already escaping his control.

  “I know,” he allowed, “but all those glitz-and-glamour things turned on you to bite me. I mean, who orders floor chandeliers from Paris?” he asked scornfully. Then he pointed to the threads of black tulle still attached to the loft railing. “And your sparkling stuff almost ignited the loft! This place would have been a total loss.”

  He let that sink in, taking some satisfaction from the wounded look in her eyes. But he couldn’t stop himself from talking. “You couldn’t let them have the quiet little ceremony they wanted. No, it had to be a Hollywood production with exotic lights and decorations. I didn’t complain when you volunteered me to host a wedding, then took over my house like it was your own private photo shoot location, and had scores of people coming and going all day long.”

  He turned to the mess and shook his head, his color a little pale. “This is more than I’m willing to deal with.”

  * * *

  THE WORDS WERE a sharp stick to the heart. While she understood his anger, she didn’t quite get his inability to see that it had all been an awful accident, and her love of fashion and glamour had nothing to do with it. She had to hear the words in no uncertain terms.

  “The destruction is more than you’re willing to deal with?” she asked in a steady but raspy voice. “Or I am?”

  “You are,” he said without even having to think it over. He turned and looked directly into her eyes. “You are,” he said again. “I knew it in the beginning, but I wasn’t worried because all I did was promise to get you safely from Texas to Beggar’s Bay. Then you had nowhere to stay, so it was the gentlemanly thing to do to invite you to stay here. I didn’t think you’d end up taking over my life, my house and now, probably, my homeowner’s insurance plan.” The words had remained calm and quiet and therefore sounded even more lethal—and final—than if he’d shouted them.

  “All right,” she said, gathering up the shreds of her heart, her dignity and her fragile ego. She tightened the blanket around her. “What do you want to do about the wedding?”

  “We’ll have it on the back lawn as you told Corie,” he said, indicating the stream of sunlight through the front window, sparkling on the many puddles inside the house. “It’s a beautiful day—outside, anyway—and Ben and Corie are my friends. You should probably find somewhere else to spend the next few nights of your stay. Too much smoke in here.”

  “She can stay with me,” Diane’s voice said. Cassie and Grady turned in unison, surprised by his mother’s presence. “Corie called me,” she explained, looking from one to the other like a mother breaking up an argument between her children and not sure which one started it. Then her eyes went over the destruction and she put a hand to her heart. “Grady. I’m so sorry.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I’ll survive.”

  “Of course, you will, sweetheart.” She went to Cassie and wrapped her in a hug. “And you. You must feel awful.”

  “How do you know what happened?” Grady asked.

  “Corie overheard your conversation with the fire chief and told me. My God, what a mess.” She finally turned to Grady with a determined smile. “You can stay on my sofa, and Jack says Donald can stay with him and Sarah. They’re not moving into the new place for another couple of days. So. Let’s see what shape the kitchen’s in.”

  “I walked through,” Grady said. “I think it’s mostly smoke-damaged. The food might smell like barbecue, but I think we can use the room.”

  “I understand Gary’s bringing over his generator.” Diane hooked an arm in Cassie’s and drew her toward the kitchen. “I love the sound of an outdoor wedding at night in January. I think it helps us start the new year with confidence and determination.” She flung an arm out theatrically. “We roll with the punches.”

  * * *

  IT WAS GOOD that Diane was a woman with a lot to say. She asked Cassie what the plan was; Cassie explained that so far it was pretty loose, but that they keep all the food in the kitchen and carry it out to the back lawn where the tables and chairs would be placed. The big indoor bouquets could be separated into smaller ones for the tables. It should be a cold but beautiful evening for a wedding reception.

  Diane picked up the theme and ran with it. She volunteered a pergola she’d bought for her garden. Grady had painted it white to match her fence but hadn’t been free to help her install it yet. She thought it could be used for the spot where the bride and groom would exchange their vows. “The flowers are coming this morning, right? We’ll just put them on the pergola without bunting.”

  Bunting. Flaming bunting. Cassie felt a clutch of pain in her chest. You are more than I’m willing to deal with. Grady’s words replayed in her ears, echoed in her brain, caused pointed pain in her chest.

  “Don’t stop to think, sweetheart,” Diane said, nudging her with her elbow as they stood side by side at the kitchen counter, looking out the back window. “We have a wedding to pull together. And look!” Elk munched on the salmonberry bushes in the distance. “Nature’s even coming to the party.”

  The room was suddenly filled with Palmer women, plus Grandma and Oliver. Sarah and Helen started making the wear-warm-coats calls and Corie and Cassie ran out to greet the Beggar’s Bouquets’ truck as Diane left to snag Grady and Ben to pick up her pergola.

  The day went on and Cassie went with it, carried on the tide of rescuing Corie and Ben’s wedding. She didn’t think about what would happen when the wedding was over. Whether she would go back to Paris early, or with her father, or just off somewhere else to finally let herself think things through. To understand how what had looked so promising could have fallen apart so quickly because of batteries and a set of keys.

  Her mind continued to drift in that direction, but she called it back for what she was determined was the final time. She went in search of Jack.

  * * *

  BY LATE MORNING the men were setting up the pergola at the far end of the yard then holding the ladder steady while Sarah and Cassie draped the flowers.

  “They’re so beautiful,” Sarah said, holding a length of the strand up, her arms wide apart. Jack placed a hand strategically on her backside so she didn’t fall off the ladder. “Have you taken a close look, Cassie? The pinks are gorgeous and my dried hydrangeas are just the blue the flowers needed.”

  “You were absolutely right.” Cassie touched a fingertip to the large flower made up of so many tiny ones. It had been dried at the peak of its fall color. What in summe
r was a bright blue turned shades of pink and purple and soft blue when the weather changed. They were a perfect complement to the pink roses and the Gerbera daisies.

  By noon, everyone had helped haul out the rented tables and chairs, and Donald produced a catered lunch from the Bay Bistro.

  “I was going to make sandwiches,” Diane said when he suggested they put together two of the tables and have lunch outside.

  “This probably won’t be as good,” he said diplomatically. “But it’s easy and paper goods can be thrown away. It won’t slow down your work in the kitchen for the wedding.”

  An old bedsheet from the linen cabinet near Grady’s room covered two tables. Diane directed Soren to a stack of paper plates and plastic cups on the kitchen counter. He disappeared inside. She handed Rosie a bag of plastic utensils and napkins. “You want to put these at every place?”

  Donald had brought what seemed like a sampling of the bistro’s entire lunch menu. Plates were passed around, amid conversation and laughter, and Cassie took a moment to commit the scene to memory.

  This was exactly what she’d longed for all her life. She’d been happy with her father, then with her many friends, but family and those pulled into the family’s orbit were what set a person’s place in life.

  She belonged here. This group loved her and grounded her, and she loved them. She didn’t want to leave—even to go back to work in Paris and New York, but these people were Grady’s friends, too. No, they were now more than that. Grady and Diane had earned entry into the Palmer-Manning clan. Even Oliver had been taken in. Her own father had belonged long ago and been welcomed right back again.

  She was the only one out of Grady’s circle. She looked across the table and saw him in conversation with his mother and her grandmother, and felt a pointed lump in her throat. It looked as though he was being his charming self despite what he must be feeling at the mess she’d created today.