Her Unexpected Family

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “Crawl after him. Or get mad.”

  “Oh.”

  One word. One tiny, two-letter word, but it was like he’d just been tried and convicted in the court of Gallagher. “You have a better way?”

  She looked from Dolly to him, then said, “Walking’s always good.”

  “She can’t,” he explained and thought he’d gain sympathy because even though Dolly’s chromosomal defects weren’t blatantly obvious to others, they were real enough.

  Emily Gallagher did a slow, thorough look of him, then his daughter, then back. “You mean she won’t.”

  “She’s afraid.”

  Emily’s expression said she’d figured that out herself. “Won’t stop being afraid until she does it, I expect.”

  Irritation mushroomed inside him, like it did every time someone expected Dolly to be normal. She wasn’t normal, not by society’s standards. He understood that, so what was wrong with the rest of the world? “You have kids, Miss Gallagher?”

  She shook her head.

  “But you know everything there is to know about kids, I suppose? Especially kids with Dolly’s condition?” He was tired of fielding questions from people who doubted Dolly’s diagnosis of Down syndrome, just because her face looked more normal than most affected children.

  “Actually, I do,” she answered easily as she flipped the page. “I spent summers here, helping my mother, but my off-campus job during the school year was working in a children’s group home. I spent four years on staff there. We had several clients with limited abilities, some with Down syndrome, and I was honored to work with the wide spectrum of effect. I might have majored in business and fashion design, but I worked with therapists, clinicians and the kids. It’s scary for a normally functioning kid to take those first steps, too, but parents don’t discourage them.”

  He hated that she made perfect sense, because Aunt Tillie had been telling him the same thing. Did he want Dolly to be stymied by her limitations? Or did he want her to reach for the stars?

  He scowled, because this wasn’t open for discussion. He wanted his perfectly imperfect daughter to be safe. End of story. “Let’s get back to the wedding planning, shall we?”

  “Of course.” She answered smoothly, but that was to be expected of a woman who used to field pageant judge questions with grace and a welcoming smile. She smiled now, but something in her eyes said he’d just flunked a test he didn’t even know he’d been taking.

  * * *

  Emily Gallagher was pretty sure she needed her life back, a life of fabrics and fashions made to flatter the everyday woman.

  Schmoozing overprotective fathers hadn’t made her short list, ever. And yet, here she was, helping out with the family business because she was needed. She was fine with that part. It was the bridezilla factor she disliked, and in this case, the “brother-zilla.”

  He’d looked downright appealing striding down that hall, toting an adorable twin in each arm.

  Tall, strong and vigorous with dark wavy hair and gray-blue eyes. Out of place and yet perfectly natural as he lugged two toddlers into the reception area of her mother’s wedding and event-planning office. And yes...smokin’ hot, even though he was older than her by a decade.

  Emily knew his story. Most of the town knew Grant’s story because he was a public figure. Head of the highway department and public works, he was the man in charge for blizzards, floods, road collapses and season-to-season road repair.

  Privacy was nonexistent for town officials. She knew that firsthand, her father having been the town police chief for decades. Living center stage was one of the downsides of small-town life. The entire area knew Grant’s wife had walked out on him after having twins, one of whom had Down syndrome. And here he was, trying to juggle raising two kids and planning his sister’s wedding while she and her fiancé were deployed.

  Sympathy welled within her, and she drew on that initial reaction when the guy caved to Dolly’s miniature temper tantrum.

  Not her kid. Not her business.

  Her sister Rory came through the back door just then. Mags, their mother’s spunky Yorkshire terrier, raced in with her. Mags spotted the kids, spun around in circles, jumped up on her hind legs and yapped hello.

  “Does she bite?” Grant asked.

  Emily raised her eyes slowly as Rory scooped up the Yorkie. “Only on command.”

  He narrowed his gaze, holding hers, and she wondered if he was going to get up and walk out. He didn’t, but she was pretty sure he was tempted to. “Keeping these two safe isn’t an easy task, Miss Gallagher.”

  “Whereas my dad always told us life was meant to be lived, challenge by challenge.”

  He put up his hands as if conceding a battle. “Well, runway walking can be considered dangerous, especially in high heels.”

  She froze.

  So did Rory and Allison, as if they couldn’t believe what he just said. Even the dog paused, but then Emily burst out laughing. The thought that she still had to justify her Miss Rochester and Miss New York pageant wins years later was absolutely hilarious. Obviously, her years as a major department store buyer were inconsequential in her hometown. “Fortunately, wedding planning is rarely lethal, so we’re all good. What kind of budget are we looking at for Captain McCarthy’s wedding?”

  He had the grace to look uncomfortable.

  He reached out and steered Dolly away from the stairs. “My mother created a fund specifically for this wedding before she passed away.” He named a figure that allowed her some latitude, and as Emily went through the list of typical questions, he relaxed somewhat. Of course Rory and Mags were now amusing the toddlers, and that was a big help as Allison put the finishing touches on a planning board for an upcoming reception at an esteemed vineyard.

  Emily laid out a bunch of brochures before him. “Mr. McCarthy, your job makes you uniquely familiar with the area.”

  He nodded, but didn’t ask her to call him by his first name like a normal person would. She wasn’t sure why that irked her, but it did.

  “Weather might go our way, or it might not. We’ve had some of our worst storms in January, ranging from blizzards to ice storms, to driving rain storms that caused road flooding,” she said.

  “I can’t change the date.”

  She acknowledged that smoothly. “I realize that, but I want you to have a clear picture as you make choices. Choosing a hillside setting can be lovely if it’s blanketed in snow, but horrific if we’ve got icy conditions and no one can get to the venue. Likewise, the lakeshore options are stunning, but a mild winter where the lake doesn’t freeze can cause road flooding if we get a storm that weekend. If your department has to close roads, it means no one can access the reception.”

  “Gotcha.” He studied the brochures, then angled a look to her, and when he did, she had to remind her heart that he was a somewhat presumptuous jerk who overprotected his children, no matter how gorgeous his smoke-toned eyes were. “A town reception venue would be a better choice, don’t you think?”

  She shrugged. “I hate to discourage you from the others, because they’re gorgeous, but it’s important for our clients to see the whole picture when they plan an event. On the other hand...” She slanted a smile his way, and for just a moment, he held that look, almost as if interested...which was completely preposterous, of course. “You are the head of the highway department, your people are skilled at keeping roads clear and the few mishaps that have occurred are rare. So now it’s up to you. Shall we set up a time to go see some of these lakeside venues? I’ve got Monday free. Is it possible for you to get some time off?”

  “There’s no availability to see them on a Saturday?”

  She shook her head. “Fall and the holidays are crazy busy. They’re booked solid. We could arrange for evening visits if time off is difficult. I can call the ones that inter
est you, arrange a food tasting and a tour.”

  “What evenings are you free next week?” he asked.

  She should lie.

  She should pretend to be crazy busy with a social life that overflowed into the following year, but the fact that she had every single night free was her new reality. “I’m available Monday through Thursday.”

  He scanned the brochures, then handed three back to her. “Let’s check these first. I’d take the day off but Norm Pinkerton is out for knee surgery and he’s second-in-command. I really can’t take any vacation days for a few weeks.”

  “Evenings are fine,” she assured him. “I’ll make arrangements. Our local venues hunger for business in the winter. They’ll offer us price concessions we’d never get in the busy season, and they’ll throw in extras to tempt you to sign with them.”

  “I love a great deal,” he admitted. “But won’t that just muddy the waters?”

  “Not with me on board.” She filed the brochures he’d chosen into a folder and started to stand.

  He beat her to it, stood and reached down a hand to help her up.

  Hand in hand, he pulled her upright, then steadied her with his other hand at her waist.

  Electricity buzzed. The lights might have dimmed, or flashed or maybe they did nothing at all, maybe it was just the feel of her hand wrapped in his. Warm, solid, strong, yet gentle, as if he was the kind of man who was strong enough to be gentle.

  Back away. He thinks you’re an airheaded beauty queen, and he’s kind of a jerk, so pretend you felt nothing and do your job.

  She obeyed her conscience happily. Grant McCarthy may have traveled a tough road since his wife left, but she’d been handed a similar set of walking papers from her rich, self-absorbed ex-husband, and she wasn’t a jerk about it.

  She slipped her hand away, pretended his touch had no effect on her and took a firm step back. “I’ll set these up and let you know the details. Do you prefer phone or email contact?”

  “Email’s fine.”

  Of course it was. Why would he want any more human contact with her than absolutely necessary?

  She nodded, tapped her folder and moved toward the stairs. “I’ll send you times as soon as I have them.”

  “I’ll be watching for them.”

  She heard Rory laugh and chat as she helped Grant get the twins’ jackets fastened, and as the upstairs glass door swung silently shut behind her, she paused, wishing she could go back and help with those two priceless children.

  She knew that kids with disabilities did better with high expectations. The thought that Grant McCarthy was content with babying that little girl made her pulse race.

  Of course, when he’d held her hand her pulse raced in a different way, but she chalked that up to reading too many romances lately. Since coming home a year before, she’d avoided dating. She was back in Grace Haven on temporary assignment, to help her parents in a time of need. Her father was fighting brain cancer, and her mother’s popular event-planning business was funding the cost of experimental treatments in Texas. To keep the business going, she and her sister Kimberly had stepped in to help.

  Kimberly was a natural at wedding planning. She’d learned the business alongside their mother, and with her parents’ impending retirement, it was natural for Kimberly to step into the role of running Kate & Company.

  Emily was more at home on the wedding-gown end of things. Outfitting a bridal party, choosing materials and coordinating an entire look of a wedding came naturally to the former department store women’s fashion buyer.

  Dealing with the chronic back-and-forth of event planning drove her a little crazy. It stifled her creativity. But if it helped her father’s prognosis, she could be crazy for however long it took.

  But then—what next?

  She had no idea, but she was pretty sure it wouldn’t be here in her hometown. She didn’t want to step on Kimberly’s toes, or be given a job out of sympathy.

  She wanted respect. The respect she’d been denied in marriage, the respect she’d been denied professionally when her ex-husband’s father dismissed her from the company. Grant McCarthy’s cutting remark voiced what too many felt, that pageants were nothing more than pretty girls on parade. Her titles had paid for her education, and given her inroads with top designers, but that didn’t alter some opinions that pageants were nothing but fluff, and that meant the contestants were, too.

  At what point would she stop feeling the need to prove herself and just be Emily?

  Her parents had been proud of her pageant success, so Grant McCarthy could just stifle his negativity. She didn’t need it, didn’t want it and wasn’t about to put up with being anyone else’s castoff, ever again. Not personally and not professionally.

  Chapter Two

  Later that day, Grant spotted the international number code pop up on his cell phone. He grabbed the phone as he muted college football on TV. “Christa, hey! How are you? How’s everything going? Isn’t it the middle of the night over there?”

  “I’m all right,” she told him, and she sounded good. So good. “I’m on an overnight and had some time and figured the kids might be in bed.”

  “They are—we’ve got temporary peace in the kingdom.” He laughed when he said it because he knew the reality behind the words. “I met with the wedding planner today, and we’re scoping out reception places this week. I checked the guest list and figured about a hundred and thirty people, right?”

  “The guest list. Yes. I—” A slight pause ensued, as if he’d lost the connection.

  “Christa, you there?”

  “Yes. Yes, I’m here.” She still sounded funny, though. Almost cautious. “Yes, around one thirty with both families and friends. Maybe a few more. I’m guilt stricken that I’m sticking you with all this. It’s not like your life is exactly easy, but Mrs. Gallagher is a sweetheart. She’ll smooth things out for you.”

  “Well, it’s Emily I’m working with. The middle sister.” With the great hair, gorgeous face and take-no-prisoners attitude.

  “Emily’s back?” Surprise raised Christa’s voice. “The last I knew she was married and living in Philadelphia.”

  “Well, she appears to be single and here in Grace Haven,” Grant told her. “She and Kimberly are running the business while her father undergoes treatment.”

  “The cancer. Of course.” Christa’s voice deepened. “I’ve got him on my prayer list,” she went on. Static messed up her next words, but Grant heard the last phrase succinctly. “I hate cancer.”

  “Me, too,” Grant told her, though he wasn’t putting stock in prayer lists. His mother had been an amazingly devout woman, and what did that get her?

  Two extended bouts with cancer before they lost her. His father had walked out on them over thirty years before, and Grant used to pray his heart out as a little kid, begging God to bring his dad back. It never happened. His prayers went unanswered, and that was a good lesson learned at a young age. God didn’t exist, because if he did, he didn’t take his job all that seriously. Grant took everything seriously as a result. “I’ll keep you updated on things either through email or phone, okay?”

  “Yes, thank you! And if you can copy Spencer, that would be great.”

  “Will do. And don’t you worry about anything,” he instructed. “Your job is to stay safe, finish this deployment and get married. Everything here will be fine, I promise.”

  “Thank you! I love you, Grant.”

  Her words made him smile. “I love you, too. We’re all we’ve got now, so we’ve got to stick together.”

  Silence greeted his words again. When she finally answered him, he realized it must be a delayed connection. “We’ll stick together, all right. Hey, gotta go. I’ll call again soon, okay?”

  “Yes. Goodbye, Chris—”

 
The phone hummed in his ear. She’d hung up.

  He set his phone down and turned off the game. Life was somewhat crazy right now, and he didn’t see that getting better anytime soon. He had the kids in the only day care center comfortable with Dolly’s behavior issues, his eccentric aunt thought he was spreading himself too thin and needed a wife, and the twins were generally either catching something or getting over something.

  This was his normal.

  He pulled into his aunt and uncle’s yard on Monday morning, ready to start a new week. Aunt Tillie bustled out the side door to greet him while Uncle Percy followed at a less frenetic pace.

  “How are the wedding plans coming?” Aunt Tillie demanded in a too-loud voice. “You makin’ progress?”

  He fibbed slightly. He assumed they were, but he had thought he’d hear from Emily Gallagher and he hadn’t. “Yes. If I need to go check out some wedding stuff tonight, can you sit with the kids?”

  “What those little ones need is a mother,” Tillie declared for about the hundredth time. “I can’t say it’s right.” She shook her head firmly, and her frown matched the motion. “Them bein’ in day care all day, then with a sitter at night, but if you need me, I’ll be here. Hi, darlins!” She smiled and waved into the backseat, blowing kisses a mile a minute.

  The twins laughed and waved back as he and Uncle Percy pulled out of the driveway. He dropped the kids at Mary Flanagan’s day care center, got to work and as soon as his office door slapped shut behind him, he called Kate & Company. When Allison put the call through to Emily, he pretended the sound of her voice didn’t make him want to suck his stomach in. He was in good shape and he didn’t care what Emily Gallagher thought about anything other than weddings. “Miss Gallagher, I thought I’d hear from you by now. I was wondering if you were able to set up times for me to see those wedding venues.”

  “Of course.” She sounded surprised, and her next words explained why. “I sent you an email Saturday afternoon confirming 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.”