Old Dog New Tricks

by Roxanne St Claire

  “Now that’s music,” Shane said.

  “Who cares about the music?” Darcy chimed in. “We want deets. Don’t leave a single thing out, Katie.”

  “Because we’ll know if you do,” Molly added. “We’ve heard the story three dozen times.”

  “Some stories get better with age, lass,” Gramma Finnie said. “I know mine do.”

  “But this one never changes,” Liam said. “Every anniversary, at this table, same story.”

  “Did your family do that?” Darcy asked Cassie. “The family anniversary dinner thing?”

  “Family anniversary?” Cassie snorted. “We were handed over to Yiayia and Papu, my Greek grandparents, and Mom and Dad rolled off to some secret location for a whole weekend.”

  “Cassie.” Katie looked down at her plate as a soft flush rose on her cheeks.

  She didn’t need to be embarrassed, Daniel wanted to tell her. He understood better than anyone at the table what those secret weekends were all about, and it only made him like Nico Santorini more for loving Katie the way Daniel loved Annie.

  “It’s true, Mom. You two were always like that…I mean, before…” Her voice faded, and the table grew quiet. “We did do a family thing for one anniversary,” Cassie added. “And I’ll be honest, it was one of our best Santorini moments.” She hesitated and looked around the table. “We gathered around my father’s hospice bed for their fortieth, which was their last.”

  A few of his kids shared sympathetic looks, because that, they understood.

  Katie held up her hand to deflect anyone’s response. “No sadness tonight,” she said. “Just happy memories.”

  But Cassie’s words lingered in Daniel’s head. Their fortieth?

  He did some quick math to be sure he’d heard that right. Whoa, they’d gotten married quickly after Katie left Bitter Bark. They must have been even more in love than Daniel and Annie, who didn’t get married for almost two more years, and only because Liam was on the way. But he’d had vet school. Katie mustn’t have even finished college.

  “Happy memories like how your parents met,” Katie continued, using that innate grace and class to guide the talk back to something lighter. “But if what I say conflicts with what your father has said, blame it on time and old age.”

  “Or the fact that my son got my storyteller gene and embellished it over the years,” Gramma Finnie quipped. “You’ve got the floor, lass.”

  Her dark eyes widened as she became the center of attention, a place Daniel suspected Katie didn’t relish. But she cleared her throat, twirled the stem of her wineglass once, and looked up at him to tell the story.

  “I was running very late that night, so I only had myself to blame for leaving the two of them alone. But…” She slid a loving glance to Cassie. “I had been on the phone with the man I would marry a few short months later.”

  “Whoa, that never made it into Mom and Dad’s version,” Shane said.

  “But we knew the part about you showing up late,” Darcy added. “Because that’s when Dad and Mom famously sat on the same barstool at exactly the same moment. And Mom said her name was Anne, but that only the people who truly loved her called her Annie—”

  “And Grandpa thought, ‘I want to be on that list!’” Pru called out, reciting words Daniel must have said, well, thirty-six times when they told this story on their anniversary.

  Katie turned to him and gave a sweet smile. “I knew it was love at first sight,” she said softly.

  “I guess it was,” he acknowledged.

  “So what happened then?” Chloe asked.

  Shane leaned closer to his wife. “Dad launched his secret career of matchmaking, that’s what happened.”

  Katie shrugged. “There’s not much more to tell,” she said. “He was clearly smitten and so was your mother, and my heart was far away.”

  “Not that far,” Cassie added. “Since the night ended with you in Chestnut Creek with my dad, and you never spent another night apart for forty-plus years.”

  “Really?” several of them asked in unison, since the Kilcannon version of the story ended there, but obviously the Santorini family saw things differently.

  “That’s true,” Katie said, giving her daughter a look that fell somewhere between warmth and a warning. Maybe she was embarrassed that she’d gone from a date with Daniel to another man, but was also grateful that her daughter wanted this family to know how much her parents loved each other. Daniel still couldn’t quite read the silent messages between these two women.

  “In fact, Daniel drove me there that night,” Katie said. “And he saved me time and money and got me right where I belonged—with Nico.”

  “I never heard that part,” Liam said.

  “So you parted on a good note.” Molly sighed. “I’m so glad to hear that.”

  “Right?” Darcy nodded. “I always wondered how you felt about losing your boyfriend to a person you’d set up with his friend.”

  “I felt…” She looked at Daniel, her gaze direct and unwavering. “Grateful that we were instrumental in helping each other live our lives with our soul mates.”

  “Oh my word.” Gramma Finnie tapped the table. “I might have to write a blog about that. Would you mind, lass?”

  “Oh, maybe.” Katie turned to her, her smile fading as that look Daniel could describe only as fear crossed her fine features again. “Do a lot of people read your blog?”

  “Not so many.”

  Pru’s jaw dropped. “Not so many, Gramma Finnie? Did you check the stats last week? You had thousands of hits.”

  “Thousands?” The word seemed to catch in Katie’s throat. “Oh, I don’t think I’d want that story to go…around.”

  “It’s so cute,” Darcy said. “Gramma’s readers would love it.”

  “No.” Cassie leaned forward, all teasing gone from her dark eyes. “We’re a very private family.”

  “Of course,” Gramma agreed quickly. “’Twas just a thought.”

  Cassie nodded and pretended to sip her wine, shooting one more of those nanosecond-fast looks at her mother that was rich with secret communication. Not grief this time, but…something he couldn’t begin to understand that was definitely bubbling under Cassie’s surface.

  “That’s enough reminiscing,” he said, pushing his dish away as if that would officially end dinner.

  On cue, Rusty sat up from where he’d fallen asleep under Katie’s chair.

  Molly put her hand on Cassie’s arm. “I don’t think you had a chance to see our puppy kennels, did you?”

  “I didn’t even know there was such a thing,” Cassie replied. “Are they as cute as they sound?”

  “Even more so,” Molly assured her. “And I’m the vet on duty tonight and have to check on a litter that was born a few days ago. Come with me?”

  “I’d love to.”

  “Oh, I don’t think I saw puppy kennels earlier,” Katie said quickly. “Can I go, too?”

  “You stay, Mom,” Cassie said, giving her a direct look. “Talk to Daniel.”

  “I would like to talk a little more,” Daniel said, putting his hand on Katie’s shoulder.

  She glanced over her shoulder to see Cassie and Molly making their way toward the kitchen. “Cassie,” she said, getting her daughter to turn.

  “Mom, really, you don’t need to come with us,” she said, a little more forcefully. “Go. Talk to Daniel. Really…talk to him.”

  He chuckled a little and nudged her toward the door. “They all think they’re matchmakers now,” he murmured to her under his breath. “I think it’s that story.”

  She looked up at him, and her eyes flickered, and this time, he couldn’t deny it. She was afraid of something.

  But what? Being alone with him? That the matchmaking might work? That their decades-old attraction would rekindle?

  That wasn’t what he wanted, and he needed to tell her that. But if he did, would she disappear forever? Because he didn’t want that, either.

  Right t
hen, he didn’t know what he wanted except to wipe that look of fear out of her eyes and replace it with the look of hope and happiness he remembered from the night she climbed out of his car and disappeared into another man’s arms.

  * * *

  Katie had no doubt at all that Cassie fully expected this conversation to be the conversation. But as she walked toward the center hall, Katie was already trying like hell to think of ways to delay.

  “Could I see the whole house, Daniel?” she asked. “It’s such an extraordinary place.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” He threw her a smile. “It’s always good to see this home through someone else’s eyes. Makes me realize how special it is.”

  She kept a hand on Rusty’s head, who’d come along, as if he could somehow give her moral support.

  “There’s a lovely, family feel to this house,” she said, slipping into decorator mode because it was natural and felt easy. And took up time. “It has the most amazing bones for that farmhouse chic that’s so popular now.”

  He gave a soft laugh. “Not sure what that is, but it sounds…feminine.”

  “Not necessarily. It can be very rustic and masculine if you do it right.”

  “And it also sounds time-consuming and expensive.” He led her toward a grand staircase that stood as the very center of the entire house.

  “Not if you use a good decorator.” She ran her finger along the worn wood banister. “Someone who knows how to preserve the spirit of the home, but still bring it all into the twenty-first century.”

  He snorted. “Is that your extremely classy way of saying my house needs a facelift?”

  She grinned up at him. “Something many beautiful women think about getting when they hit a certain age.”

  “Not you,” he quipped, tapping her nose. “But it’s a nice analogy since this house was born in the 1950s.”

  “Like all good things,” she joked, ignoring the flutter in her chest at his compliment and attention. Instead, she held on to the sound of his laugh, because soon, very soon, she wouldn’t hear it anymore.

  He led her around a wide second-floor landing, gesturing to the doors off the hall. “The kids’ rooms have morphed into overflow guest rooms, more or less. There’s a room here that used to be for them to do homework, and it’s sort of become a catch-all.”

  He opened the door to a room with a wall of desks and bookshelves. A rarely used stationary bike stood in one corner and, under the window, a settee.

  “Pretty uninspiring,” he said.

  “Uninspiring?” She certainly didn’t see it that way, her designer brain kicking in at the first sight of the huge window. “The light is fabulous. It could be an amazing exercise room. Maybe put a craft table in that corner. It could even be a playroom for all those grandchildren you have on the way. This room could be anything, and wonderful.”

  “Hmm.” He looked around as if seeing the space for the first time. “An exercise room? I hadn’t thought of that.”

  They stepped out, and he showed her two adjoining rooms, very girlie and a little dated.

  “After Molly had Pru, she moved back home and studied vet medicine at Vestal Valley,” he said. “Pru slept in there, and often still does. I love when she’s here, as you can probably tell. She’s a great kid.”

  “I envy you the grandchildren,” she confessed.

  “I can work on those kids for you.” He put a light arm around her. “I won’t even charge a matchmaking fee.”

  She laughed, warmed by the idea and his touch and wishing desperately that things were different. She wanted just to be friendly with him, to joke about their kids’ futures, and share their lives and pasts. Being this close to him, talking to him, made her ache in a wholly different way. She honestly hadn’t realized how lonely she was.

  Well, too bad. Daniel Kilcannon would not be supplying lighthearted companionship when he found out what she had to tell him.

  She glanced down the hall to a set of closed double doors. “The master?” she guessed.

  “Yep.”

  She looked up at him. “May I?”

  “As long as you don’t suggest any changes,” he said simply, leading her in. “But you’re welcome to look.”

  The windows were huge, the fireplace dreamy, and she completely understood that the space was packed with meaning and memories for him. To her, it was bursting with the potential to be a showstopper.

  “I think it’s pretty nice,” he said, a note of defensiveness as if he, too, could see that it missed the mark for greatness. “I mean, I spend most of my time in here with my eyes closed, so who cares how it looks, right?”

  “It’s very nice.”

  “Which translates into ‘Wow, this place needs work.’”

  Laughing, she shook her head. “Not much, but have you ever thought of putting the bed over there? Maybe getting rid of the big four-poster to open things up?” She pointed to the wall where a well-loved and woefully old sofa took up premium space. “Maybe switch out that sofa for a streamlined console table?”

  Rusty marched right over to it and jumped up on the most worn cushion.

  “You can see what my dog thinks of that,” he joked.

  “I know, but you’d wake up and see that view instead of having it at your side.”

  He let out a sigh and shifted from one foot to the other. “I always had a wonderful view in here when I woke up. And I doubt seriously I’d ever get rid of that bed.”

  The ache in his voice twisted her heart. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be, it’s just…” He looked around, slowly, as if looking at it through her eyes. “I guess I could paint it. But…that sunny yellow is…”

  “Annie’s favorite?” she guessed.

  “She always loved it.”

  “Totally get that.” She smiled up at him. “If you ever think about changing it, the room would look fabulous in a cool gray, maybe with some deep-green tones. You could change out that earth-tone area rug, too. A simple, inexpensive change that would really make a difference.”

  His eyes widened like she’d suggested switching out one of his kids rather than an old-school might-have-been-shag-once rug.

  “Or not,” she added.

  He laughed at that. “Annie and I went to Charlotte to get that rug and drove home with it hanging out the back of the truck, laughing like loons when it almost fell out on the highway. Then we’d dragged it up here and…”

  She touched his arm. “Keep the rug, Daniel.”

  “No, no…” He swallowed and walked closer to the area rug, deep in thought as he put a large booted foot on it as if testing the temperature of water. “For argument’s sake, what would you put in its place?”

  She considered the room, imagining it before answering. “I think something like faded tapestry would look good on this hardwood, but as I told you, some things have memory tags, and it sounds like this one is massive. Deep. Long.” She gave a soft laugh. “However memory tags are shaped.”

  “They are shaped like knives that cut your heart out.”

  “Oh.” She closed her eyes, feeling the statement as well as hearing it. “I get that.”

  “Sorry.”

  She put a gentle hand on his arm. “I’m sorry for going all house designer on you. Show me another room, and I swear I won’t say a thing about the decor.”

  “Then come to my office downstairs,” he said. “It’s never changing.”

  He led her out and closed the doors with enough of a forceful click for them to both know he’d never change a thing in that room, and she honestly didn’t blame him.

  Downstairs, he walked her to the spacious room in the east wing where she suspected he spent much of his day running the business of his life.

  The oversized office included a sitting area with a classic burgundy leather couch, a small bar with decanters and glasses, and one deliciously comfortable chair in front of a fireplace.

  “Definitely a man cave.” She turned to the large mahogan
y desk with enough paper clutter to know it wasn’t for show. His desk chair backed up to a picture window with a commanding view of the hills and mountains in the distance.

  Next to his desk, a huge cushioned bed became Rusty’s next stopping place. It was nestled in a corner, under a wall of framed pictures of dogs. Each and every single one could have been Rusty, except that the backdrops and coloration told her these were different Irish setters from over the years.

  “Remember Murphy?” He came up right next to her, pointing to a dog in front of the version of this house she remembered from her first visit.

  “Yes, I met him once, but I would swear that’s a picture of Rusty. Or my new pal, Goldie.”

  At the sound of his name, Rusty got up and stood right between them, angling his head one way, then the other, as if to ask them both for a head rub. And they obliged, their fingers brushing as they touched the dog.

  “You can’t see the difference between the setter and the golden retriever like I do. But yes, Rusty looks like Murphy because they’re grandfather and grandson,” he explained. “All the setters who’ve lived here descend from the same couple, named Fergus and Enya, who lived in County Waterford with my father when he was very young.”

  “All from the same dogs?”

  “The same lineage. Fergus and Enya had Corky, who my parents brought with them when they emigrated to the States back in the 1950s.” He pointed to a sepia-toned picture of a very young Gramma Finnie, her distinctive features easy to recognize even as she was dressed in a dated dress that looked like something Cassie would buy at a vintage shop.

  “My father bred setters, so Corky had Laddie.” That dog was featured in a color photo with a boy and a girl who looked to be around ten or twelve, obviously Daniel and his sister. “Colleen and I loved him so much. He went blind in his later years, but still, a great dog. He was the father of Murphy, who fathered Buddy, and then Buddy fathered Rusty.”

  “Who has fathered…”

  He shook his head slowly. “I didn’t breed dogs after my father died. Rusty is the last of that great line of true setters who come from Ireland, and he’ll be the last dog to call me master.”