Her Unexpected Family

by Ruth Logan Herne

  As Emily turned to go back into the dressing room with Janet, Grant touched her hand. She turned, and the look in his eyes...

  Her heart danced. Her breath caught. He swept her and the dress a long, slow look. “Stunning is right. And I’m not talking about the dress, Em.”

  “No?” For the life of her, she couldn’t bring her voice above a whisper.

  “No.” He whispered right back, smiling. “I’ll go start the paperwork while you get changed.”

  She wasn’t sure if she walked back into that dressing room or floated. Her reflection in the mirror showed flushed cheeks and a happy smile. Janet met her gaze and raised a brow in understanding. “Someone’s smitten.”

  She tried to deny it, then sighed. “Yes. It’s silly, right?”

  “Love is often silly,” Janet told her as she helped her out of the dress. “But in Grant’s case, I’ve prayed a long time for someone to make a difference. He’s so alone, more than he realizes. No mother, no sister here, no wife, no faith. Those two little souls, needing so much.” Janet lifted her shoulders once she had the gown secured on the broad heavy-duty hanger. “A sweet woman with a love for God and children would be wonderful. I was friends with Dolores for years. She was the kind of mother who went the distance, always, but she was not an easygoing woman. She liked things her way.”

  Grant had a bit of that quality, too.

  “She loved her children,” she continued, “and she was in church on a regular basis, helping with this and that, but once you knew her, you realized if Dolores McCarthy said it, she meant it, and there was no changing her mind. And that’s not always the best way to do things. Still, for all her hardheaded ways, I miss her like crazy. She would have loved to spoil those twins.”

  No father, no mother, no wife and his sister deployed. At least Grant had Uncle Percy and Aunt Tillie nearby, with all their old-time eccentricities. Corinne had been a single parent for just over a decade, but her family lived in the area and she was surrounded by Gallaghers at every turn.

  Grant didn’t have any of that support.

  She met Grant up front. He was finishing paperwork with Caroline, and when he saw her moving their way, his eyes—those big gray-blue eyes—brightened.

  Caroline slipped out from behind the desk to hug her. “Emily, thank you for helping. That made such a difference to Christa, I’m sure. A gown should always be worn to be appreciated.”

  “I sure appreciated it.” Grant’s droll tone raised Caroline’s brows.

  “A beautiful woman in a wonderful dress is fashion at its best,” Caroline declared.

  “And on that note.” Emily tapped her watch. “I’ve got to go. I’m overseeing two big events this weekend and if I mess up, Kimberly will kill me. That might not be an exaggeration on my part.”

  “Knowing your sister, I concur.” Caroline paused, flexed her hands, then tried to hide a grimace of pain. “She was a beautiful bride, just lovely. And Drew, a most handsome groom.”

  “They looked perfect, didn’t they?”

  “They did,” Caroline agreed, but then her voice softened. “Although we all know that marriage is more than how we look on one particular day.”

  “True words.” Grant spoke softly, then extended his hand to Caroline. She stepped back and rebuffed the offer of a handshake.

  “I would, Grant, but my hands.” She made a face of regret. “Handshakes are painful.”

  “Then how about this instead?” Grant took hold of Emily’s heart when he folded the stout bridal-store owner into a gentle embrace. “Thank you so much for what you did for Christa today. We’re both grateful.”

  His hug made her smile, but Emily wondered how much longer Caroline would be able to hang on to her popular little shop. The sheer weight of some wedding gowns strained the upper body and the hands.

  “I’ll see you back to the office, Em.”

  Her phone buzzed. She read Roselawn in the display and shook her head. “I hate to say no, but I’ve got to take this. Caroline, may I use the back office?”

  “Of course.”

  She swept the phone and waved to Grant as she moved down the narrow hall to Caroline’s office. She hadn’t heard back from Stella, and if Roselawn was calling her, she assumed the angry bride had called them. She sucked a breath and sank into Caroline’s seat. “Emily Gallagher, how can I help you?”

  “It’s Marcia at Roselawn, Emily, and you can start by running interference with your bride.”

  “Stella?”

  “That would be her.” Marcia wasn’t exactly the warm, fuzzy, happy sort of party house owner. “When we contract with a wedding planner, we expect to work hand in hand with the planner as a liaison and avoid the histrionics I just handled. Ms. Yorkos stormed in here, demanding we give her a price break on her shower because of combined ineptitude on your part and ours.”

  Could this get worse? Emily knew better than to ask that question, because the Stellas of the world fought for and demanded special treatment. “I offered to have Kate & Company swallow the cost of the additional entrée and resend the invitations.”

  “Well today’s complaint, on top of those, was a pastry table.”

  If Stella went to Roselawn to demand a pastry table, did that mean she was pulling the wedding shower and wedding or staying with the contract? Emily didn’t know. “She’s decided she wants one? Because she’d opted out on that when we suggested it.”

  “She’s demanding we provide one at our expense because we should know enough to provide vegetarian choices as a given, not a choice, and that the pastry table will soothe her embarrassment with her peers.”

  Marcia’s words brought a lightbulb moment.

  Stella wasn’t mad about the entrée, like she claimed. Stella was crazy cheap and wanted to work the angle to get every freebie she could wrangle out of honest business owners. “Marcia, you didn’t cave, did you?”

  “Not yet, but you know how things are in the winter. We can use the business.”

  Emily understood her point, but the thought of Stella squeezing special considerations out of people angered her. And when Kimberly returned and found the event messed up, how could Emily justify it? She’d promised Kimberly that all would be smooth for one short week.

  It wasn’t smooth, and Emily had a wedding and a fiftieth anniversary party to oversee on the coming weekend. Spending extra time soothing Stella’s ruffled feathers wasn’t how she wanted to spend the next two days, but if Roselawn’s call was any indication, she might be doing just that. “I’ll talk to her, Marcia.”

  “Please do. I’m incensed at the idea of giving away a pastry table to serve sixty people, but on the other hand, I don’t want those sixty people giving us negative internet reviews. That’s a game changer.”

  “I hear you.” Reputation was critical in a popular area like the Finger Lakes. “Let me see what I can do.” She hung up as Caroline came down the hall.

  “Bad news,” Caroline surmised. “Not your dad, is it?”

  “A bride.”

  “Oh. Well.” Caroline shrugged. “Emily, there’s one thing I’ve discovered in this business. You win some, you lose some and mostly you make folks happy.”

  That sounded so delightfully simple.

  “Kill ’em with kindness, sweetie. It’s much better to smooth back ruffled feathers than to gather them once they’ve been lost in the wind.”

  Caroline was right. She needed to bend over backward if necessary to make this right for Stella. And if it cost the business money, she’d make up the difference out of her Barrister buyout account. Dad wouldn’t hear of using her settlement money to help pay his medical bills, but if she used it to offset a loss on Stella’s wedding, that was her choice.

  “I owe you, Caroline!” She hugged the older woman gently. “And I’m going to pray for your arth
ritis. I am so sorry to see you in pain.”

  Caroline didn’t look up at her. Not at first. She walked with Emily to the front of the store. Janet was showing a bride around, while four twentysomethings checked bridesmaids’ gowns. “The pain’s not the hard part. Pills help manage that. It’s this.” She swept her quaint shop a look. “I love this, I’ve always loved this and when folks would quack at me to retire, I’d shrug them off. What did they know? But now.” Her hands fluttered. “I can’t do it.”

  Emily had seen this same raw emotion in her father’s face the previous year, when faced with his prognosis. “Change is hard.”

  “Yes, it is. I hate to close down, but my options have thinned from narrow to nothing.” She clenched her hands, then winced because she’d done it. “I’ve always told folks to leave things in God’s hands, but when it comes to myself, I’m the last to follow my own advice.”

  “Ain’t it the truth?” Emily put an arm around her shoulders. “If you need help with anything...”

  “I’ll make my firm decision before the busy season starts up again in January, but I think the writing’s on the wall. It will break Janet’s heart. She’s been here a long time, but then, haven’t we all?”

  Emily’s phone signaled a text. Caroline shooed her out the door. “You go on with your day, and when Christa comes into town, you bring her right over. Rita will come in special to do her alterations.”

  “I will,” Emily promised. She checked her phone as she walked south on Center Street. Two texts. One from Noel Barrister, saying he was having a contract drawn up and one from Allison, saying Stella Yorkos had called.

  Noel’s reminder ignited a flame of temptation back to the garment industry she knew so well. She squelched it, squared her shoulders and called Stella back. “Stella, hello. Allison said you called. How can I help you?”

  “You probably can’t,” the other woman stormed. “You haven’t been all that much help so far, but I’ve been to Roselawn and they’re reluctant to try and fix this fiasco of a shower. I’m utterly despondent over this whole ordeal. I can’t even think to do my job properly.”

  Great. Next thing she knew, the savvy and greedy young lawyer would sue them for loss of income. “Well, that’s not good, we can’t have one of New York’s best and brightest unable to work.”

  “No?”

  Emily didn’t miss the note of surprise in Stella’s voice. “Of course not! We’ve got the second set of invites done, with the new response cards, and they’ve been mailed. Also, I talked to Roselawn this morning, and we’d like to offer a complimentary sweets table to your guests to soothe any angst this might have caused. Honestly, Stella, it’s the least we can do.”

  Four distinctly quiet seconds passed. Emily waited, and when Stella said, “Thank you, Emily,” in a much more relaxed voice, Emily fist-pumped the air.

  “You’re welcome. And I know it’s an added cost, but you should really think about one for your wedding, as well. Gabriella did one for the Smoltz wedding four weeks back, and I’m still getting calls and reviews, raving about it. When something is that memorable...”

  “I’ll check it out.”

  Emily chalked up another success. The Smoltz family was on Stella’s guest list, and if April Smoltz’s guests loved her wedding, Stella would want to one-up her for sure. “Good. And if you have any questions, Stella, don’t hesitate to call me. A holiday-themed shower and a Valentine’s Day wedding.” Emily paused intentionally to let the unstated appreciative drama mount. “What could possibly be better?”

  “Nothing.”

  Emily scored a mental victory. Yes, her bank account would take a minor hit, but if it kept Stella from badmouthing Kate & Company, Emily would be okay with that. And if her big sister never found out?

  She’d be all right with that, too.

  Chapter Nine

  Christa’s call came through ten minutes after Dolly finally fell asleep. Grant answered the phone and sank onto his favorite recliner. “Hey, nice dress today, Captain.”

  She laughed. “It’s beautiful, Grant. And that was so nice of Emily to model the gowns. This is all so weird, to be doing this halfway across the world.”

  “But it’s coming together,” Grant assured her. “You were right, hiring a planner was worth every single penny. And more.”

  “I’m glad. But that’s not why I called, actually.”

  Something in her voice made Grant sit taller. Straighter. “Then, why? What’s up? Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. It’s just—” She breathed deep, and then said, “It’s Dad, Grant.”

  “It’s what?” He couldn’t have heard her right. He hunched forward in the chair, suddenly unrelaxed.

  “It’s about Dad. I’ve been talking with him.”

  Surprise and anger didn’t creep up Grant’s spine. It raced. “Why? Why would you give him the time of day, Christa? He abandoned Mom, and us. You were a baby, and he walked out on you and never looked back. Why would you think he’s important enough to search him out now? Especially with Mom gone.”

  She kept her voice calm, and that only made him angrier. “What if he did look back, Grant? What if he tried to be part of our lives, but couldn’t?”

  “The impossibility of that leaves me speechless.” Grant stood and ran a hand through his hair, then paced the floor in quick, hard steps. “He didn’t have to leave, Christa. And then he didn’t have to stay gone. Have you seen him?” He didn’t want to ask that question, he didn’t want to appear interested. It slipped out because now and again he wondered if his father was even still alive, but never enough to check it out online.

  “In Colorado, two years ago. That’s where he lives now. He’s got a very nice wife, and two kids, Mike and—”

  “No. I don’t want to hear how I was casually replaced by someone else two thousand miles away. I don’t want to hear that he’s put his life together with them, while he ignored us. I watched him walk out that door thirty-three years ago, Christa. He kissed me goodbye, told me to be brave and walked away. Mom was crying, you were crying and I was supposed to be a brave five-year-old while my father walked out of our lives.” He remembered how he raced to the window and watched as his world fell apart around him. His mother’s tears, Christa’s baby wails and his father, backing out of the small driveway, onto the road, then driving away.

  And he never even looked back to wave.

  Oh, he remembered all right, every single second of that horrible afternoon was etched in his brain. “I can’t forgive him, Christa. Please don’t ask me to.”

  She sighed and said nothing. Seconds ticked by, long and slow. “Why now, Christa? What’s brought this all up?”

  “My wedding,” she whispered, and the sadness in her tone took Grant by the throat. “Mom’s gone, and I’m getting married, and I wanted my father at my wedding. At long last, I wanted a semblance of normal, Grant, but I get it.” Her voice firmed. “I really do, and I won’t press. I was too young to have any memories, so I have much less to forgive. It’s different for you. Way different. But Grant, you should give him a chance to explain.”

  “Never.” He didn’t want explanations for why responsible adults walked out on children. He’d lived it twice, and both times he felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest. “Unlike you, I have no desire to reopen those old wounds. I’ve got enough fresh ones to deal with, thanks. Including two kids who need me to be at my best when we hit the ground running in the morning. I’m calling it a night, Christa.” He hung up the phone, then stood, staring at it, filled with disbelief.

  She’d gone to meet Joe McCarthy, purposely. Under the guise of vacation, she’d gone out West and arranged to meet their father and his new family. Didn’t she understand the pain he put them through? Didn’t she get it?

  Maybe she’s forgiven him, his conscience pr
odded. Your mom used to talk about forgiveness all the time, remember? But did she ever forgive your father? Did she ever really move on?

  Grant shoved the mental questions aside.

  His mother had worked night and day to care for them. She spent hours each week in church, praying and helping. She was one of those hands-on Christians, always there in a pinch.

  Did she ever forgive Joe McCarthy?

  Grant didn’t care, one way or the other. He checked on Tim and Dolly, sound asleep in their wooden cribs. He couldn’t imagine walking out on them.

  An image of his former wife came to mind, as she tucked that single picture of Tim on the seat beside her and drove away.

  Pain knifed his gut. His chest went tight. He tried to stifle the image, but Christa’s talk of forgiveness and reasons kept tugging the memories back.

  He couldn’t sleep and finally stumbled out of bed at five o’clock, still angry, and now exhausted. He made extrastrong coffee, and when Timmy scrambled down the stairs looking so sweet and innocent in his pajamas, Grant hauled in a deep breath.

  He’d get through today on no sleep somehow. And then the next and the next, because that’s what a real parent did. They stayed the course, no matter what.

  * * *

  “Emily, you and Allison have done an amazing job.” Kimberly handed them each a box of chocolates featuring a fancy emblem on the following Monday.

  Emily didn’t dare exchange looks with Allison as she accepted the box.

  “I had the best honeymoon ever, and I tried not to worry, but—”

  “You did worry,” Emily filled in from her seat, “hence the fourteen text messages you sent, trying to micromanage from the Caribbean.”

  Kimberly winced. “Guilty.”

  “But we managed without you, although I have to say it’s really nice to have you back,” Emily admitted.

  “Your December calendar is free other than Stella’s shower and the New Year’s Eve gala with me at Chesterton’s.”