“I’ll put together a solution plan and we can revisit this on the twenty-eighth,” James said—fast. “Two days. Sound good?”
Both sisters looked relieved. “Sounds good,” they both muttered.
As she and James left through the main bakery, James stopping to look around and jot down some observances, Ginger thought about how she’d stopped in the bakery her first day in town to soothe herself with a little something before she hit up the etiquette school. She’d sat right there, the far table, and had helped herself to the complimentary decaf, appreciating that it wouldn’t hurt her paltry savings, and bought a blueberry muffin because it was the cheapest thing offered. One of the sisters had waited on her behind the counter and hadn’t blinked an eye at her outfit or cleavage. She’d been perfectly nice, and Ginger had felt a little better about coming to Wedlock Creek. That kind of community did mean something. Antonia was definitely right about that. But Geneva was right about her take on things too. So what did you do when both sides were right?
As they walked back to the office, James asked, “So what you do think?”
“Well, luckily your schedule is clear,” Ginger said. “And you’ll be able to focus solely on the sisters as clients over the next few weeks. I’ll keep you in caffeine at the office, don’t worry.”
“No, I mean, what’s your take on the Soleros’ situation?”
Ginger gaped at him. “You’re asking my opinion?”
“I just did, didn’t I?”
Huh. She hadn’t been expecting that. “At Busty’s we were told to ‘leave the thinking to management.’ Total a-holes. Like they thought? Ever?”
“Well, you’re not in Busty’s anymore, Dorothy. And I value your input.”
Ginger beamed. And not because she got his Wizard of Oz reference. Sometimes James said stuff that went right over her head, but she always tucked the references away and looked them up later on the communal desktop in the parlor at Madame Davenport’s.
“Well in that case... I think Geneva is reacting big-time emotionally to the fact that her sister is not only engaged but preggers. Everything is going to change. She’s afraid she’s going to lose her partner, her sister, her entire world. And Geneva has been dating her boyfriend for three years. Waiting, waiting, waiting. She probably said the same thing last year about how he’d propose on her birthday and Christmas. Now her sister is moving on without her, with the diamond ring that Geneva wants and a baby to boot. This is less about cakes versus cupcakes and more about what’s really eating Geneva.”
James stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stared at her—in a good way. “I only got as far as the first line you said—that she’s reacting to the pregnancy. It would have taken me a couple hours to get to everything you noted.”
Huh. “It’s sooo obvious. Did you see the way Geneva was blinking back tears? This isn’t about whether to keep the cupcakes or the free coffee or to focus on cakes. I mean, it is—that’s a profit and time issue—but the heart of the matter seems like big-time fear.”
“I think you’re absolutely right,” James said. “I also think I’m getting consultancy help way too cheap. I’m upping your salary. You understood the situation immediately, and I could use your take on their case as I prepare a solution plan.”
She was speechless for a moment. “That would be awesome,” she said, trying to hold back how emotional she was. She could take a flying leap into James Gallagher’s arms. No one, since her mother, had made her feel... What was the right word? Smart? Nah, she knew she was smart.
Special. That was how James made her feel. It was in everything—the way he looked at her like they were equals instead of how the mouthbreathers at Busty’s would look at the waitresses as though they were hot bodies with nothing more to offer, the way he spoke to her with respect, the way he sought her opinion.
A warmth wrapped around her, the same kind of happy warmth she’d felt when she’d first discovered she was pregnant—well, before her own fear jumped in. Ginger O’Leary knew all about fear.
And since she had a busy day of two classes tomorrow, James asked her to spend the next couple of hours at the office, going over the plan for the Soleros. As they sat at the round table in his conference room, drinking the delicious Jamaican Me Crazy decaf coffee she insisted on stocking the kitchen with and hashing things out, Ginger was sure of one thing.
She’d fallen in love with her boss somewhere along the line.
At least now that he was taking her on as an employee, she’d soon be able to solve the problem of her and James herself.
There was a solution to everything, right?
Chapter Six
“You know who would have adored Ginger?” Larilla asked James, her gaze on the album of old photographs. “Your mother.”
James sat beside Larilla on the fuchsia velvet sofa in the front parlor of the Queen Anne, the album on Larilla’s lap. She tapped a photo of Tessa Gallagher, though in that picture, she was around ten years old and still named Tessa Mayhew. Larilla, also ten, had her arm slung around her best friend’s shoulders as Tessa whispered something in her ear. From the look on Larilla’s face, it was a juicy secret. “Tessa loved big personalities,” Larilla said.
Yup. It was why she’d married James’s father, whose personality had been a little too big. Larilla never spoke against James’s dad, but he knew his godmother harbored hateful thoughts for the man who’d cheated on her BFF and left her with a young son to raise on her own. Not that he hadn’t paid child support or picked up James every Sunday afternoon for a couple hours of father-son bonding, but once the quints were born, James had been pretty much forgotten by his father.
He’d always figured it was where he’d gotten good at finding solutions to problems. He’d needed to fix the problem of losing his dad to his new family, so James, at a very young age, had racked his brain for how to be included, but his calls had often gone unreturned. Then he’d come up with a brilliant way to be among the new Gallaghers. He’d done research on how to babysit five toddlers at once and offered himself up as a free “mother’s helper” to his stepmom, who’d been thrilled to discover he was good at the job and she could disappear into her bedroom to read. That had cemented his place in his father’s new family.
Larilla and his mother had done a lot of head shaking over the years back then—until Tessa Gallagher had been diagnosed with and died from ovarian cancer within two months when James was a freshman in college. How he’d gotten through that year he didn’t know. His father had tried to “be there for him” by coming to visit him at school a few times, but then the visits quickly turned to phone calls and soon even those were rare. Four years later, when he’d gotten the call from the police that his father and stepmother had not survived their car accident on a rain-slicked road, he truly didn’t think he could take the grief, that he had any room for it, that he would explode with the pain. But then he thought of the quints, his beautiful half siblings, all awkward and thirteen, their parents gone just like both of his were, and all he’d thought about was them. He’d rushed home, his heart having expanded after all.
“Yeah, she definitely would have,” James agreed. “She liked straight shooters. And Ginger is certainly that.”
He heard the front door open and footsteps on the stairs. His sisters. Two of them anyway. Josie had crazy hours since she’d gotten a job as a waitress at the Cowabunga Café, which had singing servers for birthdays and special events and “just because the manager was in the mood.” Josie was proud of her job. The café was very popular, particularly with the tourists who flooded Wedlock Creek for weddings at the famed chapel. According to Amelia and Merry, Josie had made more in tips over the past month than she had in a year at her old waitressing job up at college. How was he going to convince her to go back to school in the fall?
Josie was another straight shooter. But as he heard the two sets of footsteps da
sh up the stairs, he knew his other sisters weren’t as forthcoming about their feelings as Josie was. He’d been meaning to talk to them about what Ginger had said, that maybe they didn’t want to work at the etiquette school, let alone take over someday, that maybe they wanted to explore other options but felt like they had to follow the life plan James had suggested for them. The thought made him seriously uneasy.
Had he unknowingly, unwittingly led them to believe he wanted them in Wedlock Creek, working for Larilla so that they could learn the business and work their way up and eventually take over for her? Long widowed with adult sons who lived in New York City and had no interest in the school, Larilla adored the Gallagher girls, all three, and she’d love it if the school stayed “in the family,” even if she was only godmother to him. He recalled that Merry and Amelia both were unsure about what they wanted to pursue for careers, so he’d suggested they work for Larilla and have a safe zone to think about what they wanted. But now that he thought about it, he’d been a little heavy-handed about how proud he was of them, how well they were doing, how Larilla adored them and thought they had great potential to become etiquette teachers.
Had he made them think that they owed him? He certainly hoped not.
Though he did like that they were safe and sound here in town. He couldn’t watch over his brothers—they were both hours from Wedlock Creek—so having Amelia and Merry close and settled did give him comfort.
But he didn’t want them at Larilla’s because he wanted them there.
“And, my, has Ginger come along,” Larilla trilled, pride in her expression. “I thought I’d have to work overtime with that one, but let me tell you, she’s done twice the work in half the time.”
Back to Ginger—good. Then again, he wasn’t sure if he’d rather have her, or his sisters, on the brain. Both gave him agita right now. Ginger was something else—in the best way. Yesterday, as they’d spent a couple hours talking about the Solero sisters, the wise, thoughtful, insightful things she’d said had him writing down her ideas and comments. Because she’d homed in so well on the emotional angle, he’d been able to focus on the business end, and he’d put together a plan in record time. And there were moments when he’d look over at her, as she animatedly made a point about something, and he’d be so lost in thought over how pretty she was, how sparkly her eyes were, that he’d have to ask her to repeat herself.
If, if, if—and this was a moot point—if he were in the market for a relationship, which he was not, Ginger would be everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. In a partner. Except for the part about the pregnancy. When he’d envision himself holding a newborn at 2:00 a.m., a cold zap would blast him at various pulse points and he’d snap out of it—his overwhelming attraction to Ginger O’Leary on all levels. When it came to the most important thing to her right now—that she was going to be a mother, that she wanted to find a suitable father for her baby—he’d feel something shutter inside of him and he’d focus on it, holding it for a count of ten until his head was back on straight.
He wasn’t going to be anyone’s father—not for a good decade. And so he had to stop wanting Ginger and let her find the right guy for her.
“Dear,” Larilla said, closing the album, “the gentleman I had lined up to take Ginger on her ‘casual evening date’ practicum tonight had to cancel. Would you mind taking over? I made reservations at the Cowabunga Café, and then figured you’d go to the fair. That would present a number of areas where you could assess how she’s coming along. It’s easy to regress in a relaxed setting.”
Ugh. Josie worked at the Cowabunga Café. Just what he needed tonight. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be seated in his sister’s section.
But something occurred to him, something based on a comment Ginger had made the other day. “Larilla, what makes me—or any of these guys you trust to do the assessments on these dates—any judge of a woman’s behavior? Who are we to decide if a woman is passing muster?” Suddenly, the very notion seemed truly sickening to him.
“My goodness, James, you’re turning green,” Larilla said. “Have some water.” She filled a glass from the pitcher of lemon-infused water on the coffee table, and he sucked some down. “I think your question is a good one. A damned good one.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Did Larilla Davenport just curse?” he asked.
She raised her chin. “I’m not a robot. And I don’t want any student of mine to be. But the point of the dates is for the students to practice in the real world and see how their behavior affects others. The dates are of all types, all personalities, all backgrounds. You are not the typical ‘date,’ James—no one is. But for the man who Ginger wants, you are. So you’re my choice for her for the assessment.”
“Ah,” he said, breathing a little easier. “It’s easy to forget your students have very particular reasons for taking the course and want the feedback.”
She nodded. “It’s not about judging. It’s about helping them see who they are in another’s eyes. The students might not like that woman. Or they might not give a flying fig what their ‘date’ thinks of them. Both responses are valid. And it’s all part of the process of my students figuring out who they want to be.”
He reached over and kissed Larilla’s cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Sometimes I need someone stronger and wiser than me in my corner, and you’re always there, Ril.”
“And that’s you for the quints,” she said, squeezing his hand.
Lucky them, he thought with a scowl, twenty pound weights pressing down on each shoulder. “Except I might be messing everything up for them.” He shook his head and let out a breath.
“Everything tends to ‘out’ as it should be in the end,” Larilla said. “At least, that’s my experience. But if there’s conflict between you and your sisters, I hope you’re dealing with it rather than not.”
He nodded. “I thought I had everything figured out, all my ducks in a row so I could fly off to Paris without a care. Suddenly, the ducks are all over the pond.”
Larilla smiled. “Then I suppose you’ll have to handle whatever’s going on.” She eyed him, her kind blue eyes doing their own assessment—of him. “Are you up for the date tonight? If you’ve got too much on your mind, I can reschedule Ginger’s casual night out.”
Meaning she’d be with another man.
He sat up straight as he felt his collar tightening around his neck. What was with his reaction? The whole point of Ginger taking the course was to become “PTA material”—Ginger’s words, not his—and be the woman who’d attract a wonderful father figure for her baby.
She was supposed to be going on the practice dates. And he wasn’t really a great choice to assess her since he liked her as she was.
Wait a minute. This wasn’t making sense. He wasn’t making sense. What had happened to his orderly brain?
Ginger O’Leary and her shiny, sparkly self had happened, that was what. But he wasn’t the guy for her; he wasn’t ready or willing to be anyone’s father.
“I’m fine,” he said. “I’ll do the assessment.” But could he be impartial anyway, given that he did like her as she was?
“Of course,” Larilla said, and he realized he’d phrased that last question out loud. In fact, Larilla was beaming. “I think it’s lovely that you like her as she is, James. Because if you were looking to settle down and be a father, you are exactly the man she’s looking for. So why not let her practice on you and be herself and grow into that self? She’s changed a lot about who Ginger O’Leary is on the outside. That she doesn’t have to change what’s inside is the most important revelation she’s going to have.”
He sucked in a breath. “Right. Yes.” His shoulders relaxed and he sat back. This wasn’t about him. This was about Ginger’s future.
Tonight he’d focus on making sure Ginger was truly all set to meet the guy she deserved, the right man for her and her child. Now
that he was her boss, it was a bit easier to move into a professional zone than the friendship zone they’d been in. There was a remove now. And he was going to run with it. No matter how hard it was.
* * *
When Larilla let Ginger know that James would be taking her out for her “causal date assessment,” Ginger had almost asked for a different guy. She was too comfortable with James herself. But did she really want to go out with some stranger who she wasn’t remotely interested in impressing? With James, she didn’t even have to impress.
But wasn’t that the point of the dates in the first place? So she’d learn the ways of the “quality man” and could stop being a scone thrower and bird flipper?
Would she really ever stop? She did agree with the notion of self-control, of course. And poise and all that jazz. But sometimes, a jerk deserved the middle finger.
With any other man, she’d be doing the assessing. Listening closely. Watching carefully. People tended to tell you who they were in the first half hour of meeting them. Her mother had always said that, and Ginger knew it was true. But if you weren’t paying attention, if you were distracted by a hot bod and gorgeous blue eyes, well then, you ended up in bed with a guy like Alden Arlington.
Ginger could use practice assessing quality men as father figures. But give up a night with James Gallagher? No way.
She wore her new little black dress, which could be casual or dressy depending on the heels and jewelry. Since tonight was all about casual, she put her hair in a low ponytail and wore her new cute wedge sandals and the little red polka-dot horseshoe earrings she’d bought at Jazzy’s. Horseshoes were a sign of good luck. What she needed luck for tonight, she wasn’t sure. James was a sure thing—of a fun time, of challenging conversation. But he was never going to be the man she wanted to find for Bluebell. And she had to accept it.
To Keep Her Baby Page 7
