True forgiveness for the years lost with a son? Maybe. Hope that they could heal the hurt that would happen because of this news? Yeah, that, too. But maybe it was his heart, opening a little.
“Uh, Katie,” he murmured, looking down at the space between them. “This is less than six inches apart.”
“Yeah, that’s…bad.”
Except, right then, under the stars and in the cold Carolina night air, it didn’t feel bad at all. He leaned forward and brushed her cheek, hoping for a casual, friendly non-kiss goodbye, but when their cheeks touched, there was nothing casual about it. A little electric. A little surprising. And way too complicated.
They both separated at the same instant, as if she must have had the exact realization.
“Watch that Pinterest board,” she said as he reached for the handle to open her door.
“The modern-day equivalent of ‘I’ll call you,’” he joked, making her laugh as she slipped behind the steering wheel and he carefully closed her door.
When the lights of her car finally disappeared down the drive, and the chill of the night penetrated his thin shirt and jeans, he let out a sigh that probably sounded as confused as he felt.
Just his luck. He finally met a woman who intrigued and attracted him, and she came with impossible baggage: a son that carried his DNA.
Walking back to the house, he pulled open the door and stopped short at the sight of his mother standing with her arms crossed, her lips pursed, and her eyes…filled with tears.
“What’s wrong? Rusty?” A white-hot flash of horror hit him as he looked down for the dog and found him curled under the table with Goldie next to him. “What’s the matter?”
His mother swallowed, clearly having a difficult time speaking. “I need to show you something.”
“Okay.”
She uncrossed her hands and held out a piece of paper—no, a photograph. Old as the hills, probably from the 1950s, based on the tone and trim, giving it to him without a word of explanation.
“What is this?”
“Look at it.”
A slow, hot tendril of worry curled up his chest as he tried to breathe, but couldn’t. “Who is it?” He frowned at the picture, which was a little blurry. “I need my reading—”
She handed them to him. “I knew you would say that. Look at it, Daniel.”
The insistence in her voice kicked him as he slid the glasses on and easily saw the image of a young man with dark hair and a wide smile. He had two deep lines for dimples and brows that framed his eyes in a singular, distinctive way.
“Who is this?” he asked, his voice thick.
“’Tis your uncle Paddy. My oldest brother, Patrick Brennan.”
He tore his gaze from the picture, knowing exactly where this was going. Exactly. How on earth could he ever underestimate Finola Brennan Kilcannon?
One more piece of evidence that there was no “maybe” about Nick.
“Sit down,” he said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder.
She bit her lip. “So it’s true?”
“She didn’t know,” he said, the need to defend Katie shockingly strong. “She just found out. Don’t hate her.”
“Hate her?” Her eyes flashed as she pressed her brother’s picture to her heart. “I have another grandson. ’Tis a miracle, I tell you. An absolute miracle. I can’t ever remember bein’ so happily surprised.” She blinked a tear down her wrinkled cheek. “I love him already.”
He looked at her for a long time, realizing that she’d put all his feelings into words. “That makes two of us,” he whispered.
Chapter Twelve
Kate picked up her phone, stared at it, checked messages, stared at those, then put the phone down, hating the thud of disappointment that hit her stomach.
Was she literally watching the phone and willing a man to call? What was wrong with her?
Or was something wrong with Daniel?
She leaned back in her office chair, closing her eyes and thinking about those last few minutes that took place on Friday night.
Had she been imagining…things? Feeling chemistry where there shouldn’t be any? Seeing attraction and interest in his eyes when he should be consumed with anger, frustration, and even fear? Both of them leaning into an awkward hug because…it seemed to be more right than wrong?
The questions had plagued her, waking her up in the middle of the night or dancing through her thoughts when she tried so hard to think about something else. She longed to talk to someone about it, but Cassie was her go-to girl for any and all emotional issues, and she’d have a cow if she even suspected Katie was feeling…things.
Things. What did that even mean at their age? In their incredibly unique situation? With eleven kids between them?
And why hadn’t he called since Friday?
He’d seen the images she’d added to the Pinterest board, but no text or message or phone call. There was no reason he would or should, but she wanted him to. Which was wrong on so many levels.
What was going on with Rusty? With Goldie? With them?
Pushing back from her desk, she turned to look out the window, seeing a bleak winter sky over the small backyard behind her condo. She left the office and wandered through the rooms of her small but perfectly appointed townhouse, the shelter that once seemed like the ideal way to escape the memories of the home she and Nico had shared for so many years. Where they’d raised kids, celebrated Christmases, drank coffee on Sunday mornings, and then…faced years of illness.
Those were the memories she had needed to get away from when she moved out of the house and into the condo. Here, she’d made everything bright and clean and white and new…letting go of long nights and hospital beds and dreary dealings with the inevitable death of her beloved husband.
She’d tossed all the memory tags of sickness and death, replaced them with hope and happiness. And still that hadn’t filled or healed the hole in her heart. Sometimes, only family could do that.
She grabbed her bag, jacket, and keys and headed to the garage to drive to town. Instead of soothing her, the fifteen-minute trip through the windy, tree-lined hills of western North Carolina gave her more time to think. About Daniel. About Nick. About Nico. And back to Daniel again.
In the heart of downtown Chestnut Creek, she parked behind the red brick building where she’d spent some of the best years of her life. Santorini’s Deli, arguably one of Chestnut Creek’s most popular restaurants, sat one block away from Central Avenue. Large plate-glass windows welcomed anyone passing by to come in, slide into a red leather booth, and dive into some creamy spinach spanakopita or tender, grilled souvlaki.
The food was great, but the main restaurant floor held little interest to Katie, who’d only worked there part time when they were in a jam after Nick was born. By the time Yiayia and Papu retired, she had four children and no time to work at Santorini’s, and they’d moved to the house.
It was the second floor where Katie had her best and happiest memories with Nico. Climbing out of her car, she glanced up to the old casement windows that lined the two-room apartment. Behind those windows, a young married couple had lived, laughed, and loved so damn hard, it hurt to think about it.
No, their marriage hadn’t been perfect. They’d fought, like most couples. Nico had had a flashing, quick temper, but had apologized as easily as he’d angered, and when Alex and John had been born five weeks premature, they had had some terrifying days up there. But mostly, it had been solid and healthy and she’d give her right arm for one more day and night in that little apartment.
But that was not to be. Now, the apartment was used as the business office, where John worked ordering supplies, running payroll, and managing the restaurant business like the well-oiled machine Nico had built it to be.
Alex was usually down in the kitchen, supervising the menu or planning a catering job. Cassie was often out meeting with an event client, but would breeze in with exciting news of what she had planned and a demand that her bro
ther make her dolmades, because she lived for his stuffed grape leaves.
Using a key she’d carried for as many years as she and Nico had been together, Katie unlocked the side entrance and slipped up the back stairs, each footfall a soft assault on her heart.
Talk about memory tags. They’d kissed in this very stairwell the night Daniel had dropped her off to see Nico, who’d lived alone upstairs. They’d cried happy tears at her decision to defy her mother and stay with him. And they’d made love…with no protection and every hope that they were making a baby.
She paused for a moment, digging deep for the memory of that night, that reunion moment, that blissful surrender that nearly cost them both their families, but gave them a lifetime of love. Clinging to the handrail, she let herself fall into the past, conjuring up Nico’s face and seeing…nothing.
She squeezed her eyes tight and forced her brain to cooperate. Eyes as black as a starless sky. That prominent nose, long lashes, and sweet smile.
None of it would come to mind. All she saw was the darkness of her lids and…
“Oh God, no.” She wasn’t ready to replace that memory with a new man. She wasn’t—
“Mom?”
With a gasp, she popped her eyes open and stared at Alex, who had Nico’s dark good looks and the ever-present slightly stained apron.
“Wow, it’s so great to see you.” Without hesitation, he took a few steps up and wrapped her in his strong, secure arms, his clipboard stuffed with handwritten notes on recipes pressed against her back. “You never come here anymore.”
She eased back and looked at him, stroking the soft beard exactly like the one Alex had. They both started growing a beard the day Nico died. They kept them short and trimmed, but refused to shave in honor of their bearded Greek father.
“It’s never easy to come here,” she admitted.
“Mom.” He hugged her. “We love when you do. And you’re just in time for a management meeting. Come on up.”
Above them, a door swung open. “Any day, Alex.” Cassie’s voice came down the stairs, followed by the sight of her face as she swung out to look down. “Oh, Mom! What are you doing here?”
“Rumor has it there’s a management meeting.”
“There is, and man, could I use some help on the side of reason. Come on.” She waved her up, then turned toward the door. “John, Mom is here, and I am no longer a minority of one.”
Alex led her up, a hand on her back.
“You think I’m going to run away,” she teased him.
“It happens.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered to her son. “I know I should come here more often and take more of a role in your business.”
“Our family business,” he corrected, adding slight pressure. “We don’t want you to do anything that makes you sad, Mom, but we love when you’re here. Also, you can talk some sense into your daughter, who is acting nonsensical today.”
“About what?”
“Bitter Bark.”
“What?” Her heart hitched.
“We’re zeroing in on the next location, and that email you forwarded to us from your friend had some really encouraging numbers.”
“Like what?”
“You know I don’t do numbers unless they’re in a recipe, but John is crowing. Come on.”
Her first thought when she entered the apartment was that she shouldn’t have stayed away so long. For one thing, it took true imagination to see the rooms as anything but a work space. Every shred of furniture and function as a home was gone. Desks, file cabinets, storage bins, and supplies lined the walls, and at some point, someone had painted the rooms a beautiful shade of sage. And ripped out the carpet to replace it with laminate—and good stuff, too, that didn’t look fake.
“I didn’t know you redecorated up here,” she said, rounding the desk to give John a hug.
He looked up from his calculator, adjusted his glasses, and gave her a crooked smile that looked exactly like the one she’d just received from Alex. “We did that two years ago, Mom. After Dad died.”
“I’ve been here since then,” she said.
“But you were in a fog.” He stood up and hugged her. “Maybe you’re out of the fog now.”
Maybe. She tightened her hug, then came around to sit on a sofa she swore she’d never seen before, next to Cassie, who gave her a smacker on the cheek and whispered, “You sure you want to be here?”
Katie nodded. “I do. I’m sorry it took so long.”
“What inspired you?”
She shrugged. “I needed to get out of the house and see you guys.”
“This’ll inspire you,” Alex said, producing a plate with a shiny, flaky piece of baklava in one hand and a steaming cup of heavily creamed coffee in the other. “I made the baklava an hour ago. It’s as close to flawless as I could get.”
She took the plate and nodded her thanks when he set the coffee on the table in front of her. “You’re sweet.”
“That’s sweet,” he corrected. “I’m glad to see you here.”
She settled in and took a bite of Alex’s creation, not able to stop herself from moaning with pleasure, getting a smug, secret smile from him.
For a moment, she let the contentment of the flavor and the moment warm her, looking at three of her five children with a sudden and surprising ache of love as they started up a conversation.
Alex, who showed his love with food, like his father. John, who masterminded business, like his father. Cassie, who ran on emotion and passion, like her father.
Missing was Theo, a born protector, like his father.
And Nick…the healer, the doctor, the empathetic caretaker…like his biological father.
“So, doesn’t that sound like a great deal?” John asked, forcing Katie to mentally play back what they’d said while she was musing.
“It’s not a great deal,” Cassie answered for her. “Yes, the rent on this Hoagies & Heroes property in Bitter Bark is lower, but county taxes there are higher. And it’s a smaller town, which limits the hiring population. And there are several established restaurants to compete with for catering.”
“But look at the numbers.” John tapped his laptop screen and turned it as if they could all read his minuscule spreadsheet. “We’d break even much faster there than in Holly Hills or Crestview.”
“I love the Crestview location,” Cassie said. “It’s on a nice side street—”
“Less foot traffic,” John interjected.
“And there’s already a chain deli one block away in Crestview,” Alex added. “Too close and too competitive.”
“Your food will blow a chain out of the water,” Cassie said.
“Not to mention this property is a sandwich shop, so the food setup is there,” John said. “If they’re willing to do some reno, we could expand and turn it into a real Santorini’s, and the lease has an option to buy.”
“To buy?” Cassie nearly choked. “You want to own property there now?”
“What do you have against Bitter Bark?” John asked her. “I know it wasn’t on the short list, but the demographics are impressive, and that guy, Mom’s friend who’s on the Economic Development Commission? The growth numbers he supplied are impressive. That town is booming, and there really isn’t direct competition. The location is central, and the price is right.”
Cassie threw Katie a look that hung somewhere between a plea for a lifeline and I told you so.
Was Daniel the reason Cassie was so opposed to Bitter Bark? Didn’t she realize that once this all came out, he’d likely be a part of their lives in one way or another?
“I like the town,” Katie said when they all looked at her for a fourth opinion. “It’s a lot like Chestnut Creek and has a nice, homey feel to it, but still attracts a lot of tourists. It’s close enough to the mountains to have great views and year-round activities, but they aren’t a ski town like Chestnut Creek, so they don’t live or die by the weather, like we do.”
“There’s still
a place in Holly Hills,” Cassie added, obviously sensing she was losing this argument. But why was she arguing at all? The money, location, and demographics sounded very smart, and if Cassie was anything, she was a shrewd businesswoman.
“One bad Christmas season in Holly Hills and you’re DOA.” John shook his head. “I don’t want a town that’s built on one thing, and they have an elf parade, for crying out loud.”
“They’ll make me add Christmas gyros to the menu.”
“They’ll make you add barklava in Bitter Bark,” Cassie said. “Did you run the cost of that special insurance for businesses that allow dogs in? Because you’ll need it to compete in that town.”
“It’s a nominal amount, far offset by the break on the rent and increase in foot traffic.”
John turned to Katie. “I think that friend of yours had something to do with getting us that price. The architect on the project is his daughter-in-law.”
“Small-town graft and corruption,” Cassie mumbled under her breath.
They all turned to look at her, and Katie added a warning glare.
“You know that’s not true,” Katie said. “You met Daniel Kilcannon and his whole family, including the architect, who happens to be an extremely talented professional. They’re not the graft-and-corruption types.”
“Seriously.” John leaned over his desk, his dark eyes pinned on his sister. “What’s up with you, Cass? I can normally count on you being the voice of reason in big decisions.”
She took a slow breath, sliding her fingers into her thick black hair to pull it up and off her face as she often did when she didn’t have a witty comeback or rapid-fire response. Again, her gaze landed on Katie, almost challenging her to say something.
Good God. Here and now? Katie looked right back at her and stayed silent. They’d agreed not to share this with anyone yet.
“It’s that Daniel guy,” Cassie finally said. “He…and Mom…have a history.”
Old Dog New Tricks Page 14
