by Darcy Burke
Monica put her hands on her hips. “I thought you must’ve heard. I walk with Angie every Saturday.”
Dylan had forgotten that; otherwise, he might’ve organized today’s work party a bit differently. But that was stupid. He was a grown man, and he could handle seeing his ex-monster-in-law. “No, I hadn’t heard. Give her my best.”
The door opened and Angie jogged to the sidewalk. “Bye!” She waved at them and the two women strode off in full power-walk mode.
Dad scowled. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t thinking the two of you might actually have to exchange words. I know you don’t get along.”
“It’s not a question of getting along. She hates me for taking her daughter away.”
Cameron’s eyes narrowed. “Which is lame, since her daughter ended up leaving you and choosing her stupid family over your marriage.” He blinked and shook his head. “Sorry, didn’t mean to dredge up old shit.”
“It’s fine. Ancient history. I’m glad Jess found someone else. She’s a good catch.” For someone who didn’t mind meddling in-laws and a controlling wife. His neck prickled uncomfortably. He wasn’t jealous, but why was it easier for some people to find happiness than others? He shook off the thought. He didn’t care about that right now. He was on a great path—he was going to score this Archer job, and he was going to turn it into something life-changing.
He pulled on the rain pants Dad had brought out. “Let’s get moving.” He picked up the power washer and climbed up the ladder one-handed with Cameron following behind. At the top, he set the washer on the roof and turned to his brother. “You know, I think I will go out with you tonight.” Why not? He hadn’t been back out there since Sara, and if he was going to be working with her, the time was ripe to exorcise her from his mind.
Cameron’s mouth lifted in a lazy smile. “Feeling a little left out now that your ex has moved on?”
“I figured you’d make it about that. No, maybe I just want to get laid.” And he suddenly did. Only, the image in his mind wasn’t of some nameless, faceless hottie he randomly picked up. It was Sara Archer’s pert nose, sexy blue eyes, and lush pink lips.
“Great. Hayden and I’ll pick you up at seven.”
Shit, he’d forgotten about Hayden. How the hell was he going to pick someone up in the company of his last one-night stand’s brother? Forget that, Hayden was going to be his boss too. He’d meet up with them and then take off on his own. “No, I’ll meet you there. Just text me the address.”
He was looking forward to a night where he could forget about work, family garbage, and, most of all, Sara Archer.
DEREK FLIPPED THROUGH the last file. Folders and papers cluttered the table in the gathering room. Sara, along with Tori and Hayden, waited while he read.
Dad came into the kitchen and moved toward the table. He glanced down at the papers spread out before them. “What’re you kids up to?”
“We’re selecting a contractor for phase one of the project,” Derek said. “Do you want to join us?”
Dad gripped the top of the chair at the end of the table where he typically sat. “Alex didn’t assign me a role for a reason.” His tone was clipped, but then they all knew it bothered him that he hadn’t been included.
Hayden shook his head. “Nonsense, Dad. We’d love your input. We contacted some of the people you recommended—and we’ll be contacting others when we solicit bids for the other phases.”
“This phase is just the house renovation? Sara’s wedding-space project?”
Sara nodded, glad to see him engaged. “That’s right.”
“Great idea, you having the wedding there. Your mother just can’t handle a big event here.” He looked out at the expansive back lawn and the trees beyond. “It’s a shame, since we built this place both to raise all of you and to entertain our large and hopefully growing family.”
Sara heard the wistfulness in his tone. “Someone’s bound to get married here someday, Dad.”
He turned a half-smile on her. “Maybe that’ll be you, kitten.” He looked at Derek. “You’re okay with getting married up at the new place?”
“I am. And Chloe is, too. We’re just glad to have our family there.” Derek’s gaze spoke volumes—the Archers were his family, and he treasured it above all else. “But to get there, we need to hire someone. I wasn’t able to attend the presentations, but it looks like there was a clear choice, and after reviewing the documentation, I agree.”
Hayden flashed him a smile. “Excellent.” He leaned back in his chair and looked up at Dad. “Dylan Westcott.”
Dad squeezed his fingers around the back of the chair. “Your friend’s brother? You sure he’s the best, or are you just choosing the guy you like?”
“We chose the best guy for the job,” Tori said. “That he happens to be someone we know is just icing on the cake. He’s a Ribbon Ridger. I thought you’d like that.”
“Here, look at his presentation.” Hayden had the folders stacked in front of him. He exchanged glances with each of them before handing the one on top to Dad.
Dad thumbed through it. “He bid on the entire project? Aggressive.”
“You typically like that,” Derek pointed out.
Dad nodded vaguely. “You’re just hiring for phase one right now? He’s probably fine for that. But when it comes to phase two, I hope you’ll contact McAvoy. He did our last two brewpubs.” Dad flipped the presentation folder closed.
“I’m sure we will.” Derek took the folder from Dad.
Sara noted the new lines around Dad’s eyes and wished he’d find a way to deal with his grief. He just seemed ready to explode. Standing, she went and touched his hand. Physical contact was the best way she knew how to comfort, because it was what soothed her. “You know we appreciate your feedback.”
He nodded. “Alex didn’t want me to help you. The letter he gave me . . . He specifically told me to let you all manage everything.”
Sara’s heart constricted and she saw the same reaction in the pained gazes of her siblings.
“I’m sure he didn’t mean for you to stay out of things entirely,” Tori said softly.
“Well, we’ll never know, will we?” Dad’s tone was bitter and dark, like Mom’s favorite chocolate. “It’s not like I can ask him to clarify.”
Sara hugged him, but he only patted her back in response.
He stepped back. “I’ll leave you kids to it.”
Hayden stood. “Dad, have you thought about talking to someone? Maybe going to therapy with Mom?”
Dad’s gray eyes flashed. “Like Alex went to therapy? You can see what good that did.”
Tori crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “How will you know if it will help until you try?”
Sara worried the edges of her sleeves. The shirt was one of her favorites, which meant the fabric was frayed and little holes had formed along the seams. She hated seeing her father like this and for the first time she felt a surge of anger toward Alex for being so selfish.
Dad shook his head. “Please don’t try to fix me, Tori. Or any of you. I’m doing the best that I can and that’s all I can do.” He pressed his lips together then turned and left.
Seeing her father so agitated fed Sara’s own anxiety and sent her senses spinning. In response, she folded her arms over her chest then clasped her elbows and squeezed. She held her breath while she set her body into a full muscle compression. Her siblings were going to notice and probably say something, but she couldn’t help it. She needed to regulate.
Derek, who was at the end of the table, looked over at her. “You okay?”
Hayden’s and Tori’s gazes swept toward her.
“No, she’s not.” Tori went to Sara. “Do you want to go down to the gym and swing or something?”
Old therapies Sara had thought she’d grown out of over the past few years. Until the stress of the last several weeks had sent her spiraling backward. She hated being like this in front of them. It only encouraged their overprotection.
“I’m fine. Really.”
All three of them looked at her skeptically.
“Really,” she repeated. “I get upset—just like all of you—only my stress manifests like this. It’s no big deal.”
They looked away, and Derek spoke first. “Well, that was . . . ”
Hayden retook his seat and fidgeted with the folders in front of him. “Troubling.”
“Sad,” Sara contributed. She willed her body to relax, letting her hands drop to her lap.
“Awful,” Tori finished. “He really needs to see someone. What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know that there’s anything you can do.” Derek exhaled. “I know what this feels like too well.” He’d lost both his parents. “He’ll get through it.”
Tori brushed a knuckle over her nose. “Or he won’t.”
Derek gave them all a pained look. “I hate to go like this, but I need to meet Chloe in town. Hayden, you’ll notify everyone about the decision?”
Hayden nodded. “I’ll get in touch with Dylan this afternoon.”
“Is there a way we can tell him in person?” Tori asked. “I’d like to see his face.”
Hayden laughed. “Actually, I would, too. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Good enough.” Derek stood. “Let me know what you pull together.”
“I need to get out of here for a bit,” Tori said, standing up. “I’m going for a run.”
Sara’s phone vibrated in her back pocket. She pulled it out and saw that it was Craig. Ugh, she didn’t want to talk to him right now, but he had an event today. “It’s my assistant,” she said to Hayden.
“Go ahead.” He gathered up the folders and stood.
Sara answered the call. “Hey, Craig.”
“Hey. What’s wrong? You sound upset.”
She got up from the table and went into the little circular office off the kitchen that they’d all been using as a sort of headquarters for the monastery project. “Just another day in paradise. What’s up?”
“The Carters’ wedding is today. The photographer has shingles.”
Holy shit. Sara massaged her forehead, trying to banish the anxiety coursing through her. “Who have you called?”
“Everyone who was on their list. No one’s free.”
Shit, shit, shit. Total crisis. But what was she supposed to do, go take the pictures herself? She’d actually done that once, back when she’d been a newbie. It had worked out, but the event had been a small second marriage and the clients had been okay with that fix. Mrs. Carter-to-be would not be okay with that. She would freak out. “Does the bride know?”
“Not yet, but pictures are due to start in like four hours.”
“Contact every photographer we know—even those who don’t do weddings. Offer them whatever you have to.”
“Carter won’t be happy if he has to pay more.”
“He probably won’t. The guy they hired was pretty high end.” The bride definitely had champagne wishes and caviar dreams. “But if there’s a price difference, we’ll eat it.” The cost of doing business.
“You want to split the list?” The sound of him typing on his laptop came through the phone.
Sara heard the fridge open behind her and turned to see her mom’s legs beneath the open door. “Sure. E-mail it to me. I have to go.”
“Wait! Are you going to call now?” His panicked voice was starting to spin her up again. “We need to get this locked down fast.”
“I know. E-mail me the list and I’ll get started in like five minutes.” Ten tops. Had Mom overheard anything that had gone on in the kitchen?
Craig exhaled loudly, forcing Sara to pull the phone away from her ear. “Text me when you start so I know you’re working on it.” He hung up.
Sara frowned at the phone as she set it on the desk. Their conversations were getting less and less friendly, she’d noticed. More work-focused. Before—last month even—he would’ve pressed her to talk about why she was upset and tried to make her feel better. She also wasn’t calling him just to talk anymore. She’d been talking to her siblings instead.
She couldn’t think about this right now, not with Mom standing in the open fridge door. She’d had it open so long it had started to beep.
Sara went to the fridge and poked her head around the side of the door. “Morning, Mom.”
Mom turned her head. “Oh, good morning, sweetheart.”
Sara put her arm around her and tried to ignore the annoying beep of the fridge. “Can I help you find something?”
“I don’t know. I was just looking.”
Mom, dressed in a robe and slippers, browsing for food like some college guy? Sara guided her away from the fridge and closed the door. Then she walked her to a barstool and got her situated. “Let me get you some tea. And how about a scone? I baked some last night.”
“Lovely, thank you.”
Sara set the kettle to boiling water and prepped two Earl Grey teabags in Mom’s favorite giant teacup. Then she grabbed a scone from the Tupperware she’d stored them in and set it on a plate in front of Mom. “Apple ginger.”
“Mmm. I’m so glad you took on my love for baking. Your sister is hopeless in the kitchen.”
Sara forced a smile. It seemed Mom was oblivious to the earlier drama, and Sara preferred to keep it that way. “Pretty much.”
Mom nibbled at a piece of scone. She looked so fragile. Sara hadn’t talked to her since Dylan had driven her home yesterday. Mom had gone to her room, eaten from a tray Tori had taken her, and gone to bed early.
It would be simple to avoid the topic entirely. It seemed they all tried to take the easy path—and why not? It was easy. And everything just seemed so hard. She gathered her courage. “What happened at your therapy appointment yesterday? Why did Dylan Westcott have to drive you home?”
Mom picked off another tiny piece of scone. “Oh, that. I was hoping you wouldn’t ask.” She put the bite into her mouth.
“Of course I would ask. I care about you. I’m here to help you, aren’t I?”
Mom smiled. “Yes, you are, and I love you so much for it. I just had a rough appointment. You know how it is. Some days are not so good.” Her voice dipped and trailed off as she finished.
“But this seems like more than that. He said you were dazed, that he had to help you find the car.” And you just got lost in the fridge.
Mom shrugged as though none of this were a cause for concern, when it absolutely was. “I was caught up in my memories.” She wiped a finger beneath her eye. “It happens more and more.”
Sara realized there was something off about her. More off than normal. She’d been sad, yes, and some days were worse than others, but she’d managed. It was like she’d reverted to how she’d been a couple of months ago, right after Alex had killed himself.
The teakettle began to whistle. Sara took it from the stove and poured the near-boiling water into the cup. She turned the burner off as she set it back on the stove. Grabbing a spoon from the drawer, she pressed the back against the teabags to hurry along their steeping.
As she’d indicated to Tori, Sara wondered if Mom had gone off her meds. “Have you stopped taking your Paxil?”
Mom’s hand froze as she was pulling off another bite of scone. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you seem as upset as when Alex died. Once you started taking the pills, you started to feel better. It just seemed logical that maybe you’d stopped taking them.”
Mom’s brows knitted and her chin lifted. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t take something that Alex used to . . . kill himself.” She ground the last two words out through a scratchy, tear-filled throat.
Sara rushed around the bar and hugged her. “Oh, Mom. I didn’t think about that.” Alex had taken a drug cocktail of antidepressants, sleeping pills, and pain medication, none of which had been prescribed to him. He’d obtained them illegally somehow, and they still didn’t know where or how.
“Let’s talk to your psychiatrist, ok
ay?” Sara rubbed her back, hating the helplessness she felt. For the first time, Sara glimpsed how it must have been for her mom watching her children struggle with various challenges. Sara knew she couldn’t wave a magic wand and fix things, but oh how she wished she could. “There has to be something he can do. How about I call him after breakfast?”
Mom nodded against her shoulder. Sara drew back and gave her a warm smile. “I’ll drive you to your appointments from now on. Or Tori. Or Hayden. Or Derek. One of us will go with you.” She was ashamed that none of them had thought of it before.
“Thank you, sweetheart. You take such good care of me. Like that young man yesterday. He was very kind. I don’t know what would’ve happened if he hadn’t helped me. I suppose I’d still be standing in that parking lot.”
“I’m so sorry, Mom. We shouldn’t have let you go alone.”
Mom patted her hand. “Or maybe I should’ve asked for help. It’s hard for a mother to admit to her children that she’s struggling.”
“You’re still my hero,” Sara said softly, admiring her mother so much for all she’d done for them and hating that she now felt inadequate. Again, she felt a burst of anger toward Alex. Mom didn’t deserve to feel like this.
“Thank you, sweetheart. That means more to me than you could ever know.” Mom sipped her tea and gave Sara a warm smile that reminded her of the way things had been before Alex had died. A smile that gave Sara hope and just a sliver of joy.
Chapter Seven
DYLAN PARKED NEXT to Cameron’s Land Rover in the sports bar parking lot in Newberg. It was odd that he and Hayden had chosen to meet up here instead of in Portland, but that was fine with Dylan, provided they didn’t try to pressure him into riding with them—he was on his own schedule tonight.
As he climbed out of his truck, he had second thoughts about joining them. He wasn’t sure he wanted to spend the evening with Hayden when they hadn’t yet made a decision about the Archer job. And if he was honest with himself, he was in kind of a shitty mood since seeing Monica earlier in the day and learning of Jess’s marriage. Not because he still loved her—a part of him would always care for her—but because it made his life seem lacking somehow. As if getting married would complete him? Total bullshit. He just needed a beer and a good game of pool. Maybe he could talk them into playing before they headed downtown.
