“What makes you think I did something?”
“You have a guilty look about you.”
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d driven corporate moguls crazy with his unreadable face, but here in Grace Haven, it seemed he was an open book. “I may or may not have killed your air-conditioning unit.”
“Oops.” She grimaced and moved forward. “Are you all right?”
Her question caught him off guard. She didn’t ream him out or make fun of him. She went straight to making sure he was okay. “I’m fine. I just lost my grip on it while I was maneuvering it into place, and it fell.”
“Oh, dear. Not onto a person, did it? Because that would be bad.”
“A fairly old garbage can on the back side of the garage has just become scrap metal.”
She waved that off. “As long as it wasn’t anything living, it’s no biggie. But we need to get you a unit for that apartment. I know how hot it gets up there.”
“I bought one.”
“Really? So quick?” She handed Javier his sandwich, then a second one to Lily.
“At the strip mall near the thruway. That’s all new since I moved away. And the road is four lanes now, not two. And there’s a ton of new development outside the village.”
“And still a crazy amount of traffic to navigate through in the summer,” she noted.
“Is that why the town is thriving?” he asked.
She made a face, considering. “Tourism is at an all-time high. Vacationers, destination weddings, conventions, golf tournaments, holiday functions. With all the event centers overlooking the lakes, it’s pretty busy nine months of the year now. Our sleepy little town has come into its own.”
It was quite a change from what he remembered, but not in a bad way. He wasn’t one of those people who saw progress in a negative light, but he also knew not everyone shared his viewpoint. “Your sister’s place seemed busy, too. And she also seemed very pregnant.”
Rory laughed. “She is that.”
He held his phone up. “I kept this nearby. Just in case.”
“We’re all a little nervous and wonderfully excited,” she admitted. “There hasn’t been a baby in the family for ten years, since my niece Tee Tee was born. But I don’t expect you walked over here to chat about babies.”
“No.” He certainly hadn’t, but he was pretty sure he had raised the subject. “I just wanted you to know about the AC unit before you came walking up the driveway and saw the carnage by the street, waiting for pickup.”
“It will most likely be gone before we get back there,” she assured him.
He frowned.
“Scrap pickers. Dumpster divers. Nothing much gets left for garbage pickup. Someone will grab it to reuse.”
He couldn’t imagine such a thing. “People go around, intentionally picking up garbage?”
“Recyclables. Things with some use. Like in times of war, when everyone saved everything.”
He had no idea what she was talking about.
“Use it up, wear it out,” she told him. Then she folded her arms across her middle, over the tank top that showed off her small waist. “You don’t recycle in Manhattan?”
“Some, sure, but if it’s garbage, it’s garbage. They pick it up and carry it away.”
She sighed, but not one of those weary, long-suffering sighs. This was one of those “you’re exasperating and know nothing, so why don’t you get on your way” sighs. “Things are different here. I expect it will all come back to you once you’ve been here awhile.”
He didn’t plan on staying long, but she could be right. Maybe small-town interaction wouldn’t seem so alien in a few days. “I wasn’t in town much growing up. I went to school, played baseball with Drew and Dave in the summer when we were young, and basketball in the winter through high school, but once I got older, I worked the grape.”
“You worked in the vineyard?”
She looked surprised, as if he was some silver spoon that coasted through life. “Everyone did. The vines were our legacy, the basis for making Casa Blanca great, so yes. I worked. We all worked. And my mother polished her little dynasty like a newly minted coin. As long as everything appeared perfect on the outside, we were doing an okay job.”
Sympathy deepened her gaze, but he wasn’t after sympathy. He’d learned a lot from his mother. How to work long and hard, and take no prisoners.
She’d been ruthless.
So was he.
But he was also fair. Rosa had spent a lot of her life not playing fair with others. She’d alienated workers, suppliers and other event centers with her strong-armed dealings.
“Mimi says I can work the grape when I get bigger,” Lily told him while chewing a bite of sandwich, and he had to admit, the scent of peanut butter with fresh jam enticed him. “If we still have grapes, that is.”
Untended vines stopped producing, which meant Rosa was preparing the children for the vineyard’s demise. “We’ll have to see what happens, okay?”
She met his gaze and nodded, but not because she agreed. Because what choice did she have, a small child, with others planning her destiny?
His throat went thick.
Allergies? Maybe. But he knew better.
It wasn’t allergies causing his discomfort.
It was the reality he saw in Lily’s eyes, the uncertainty gazing back at him.
Their destiny lay in his hands.
He’d negotiated multimillion-dollar acquisitions without arching an eyebrow, overseen hedge fund bundles controlling mega-units of the economy without a twitch, but the thought of determining the outcome of two children struck fear into his heart, because Lily and Javi weren’t faceless documents, ready for signing.
They were famiglia, as his mother would say. And their fate lay squarely on his shoulders.
As he began to cross over to The Square, activity caught his eye across the street. A well-dressed man was setting a for-sale sign into place in front of the old Belker complex, a stretch of retro buildings reaching from one corner to the next. The well-built but worn complex fronted three roads. The buildings weren’t historic, or anything unique, but he understood the rarity of a busy block going up for sale in a sought-after area.
He stared, remembering how tough it had been to get a room. Not tough, actually. Impossible.
He noted the number in his phone and texted it to Chen, his right-hand man in Lower Manhattan.
Chen, put in an offer for this as a development location, from personal accounts.
He snapped half a dozen pictures from where he was so the Realtor wouldn’t know he was interested.
If a seller realized a person of means was showing interest, the price would rise, and Cruz was in the business of making money, not wasting it.
Purchase ASAP for lowest possible price using a proxy, then resell to highest development bidder. Washburn Hotels, Marriott, etc.
If he could avoid the whole town knowing he was behind the quick sale, people wouldn’t be up in arms that he was changing a potential eyesore into a beautiful inn or hotel, close to shopping, the lake, amenities and food. Of course there would be a percentage going back into his bank account, but he didn’t have to make a fortune on this transaction. He’d deal quick and clean to get things moving along. Why wait?
Chen must have been on his lunch hour because he texted back a reply almost immediately.
On it.
No one was allowed to use personal devices or access websites from the operating floors, so personal calls and texts could only be made and received away from sensitive information.
He crossed the town park within The Square and went back to working from the small office in Kate & Company. His phone rang, midafternoon. He saw Drew Slade’s name on the display and took the call. “Drew, I
owe you big-time. Your wife’s given me office space with internet and AC and I’m within steps of the apartment. She refused my offer to pay, and looks like she’s going to deliver that baby momentarily. That’s the only part of this whole deal I find disconcerting, by the way.”
Drew laughed. “I’m on pins and needles, too, but I pretend not to be. We’re grilling tonight at the Gallagher homestead. Show up in the yard and meet the rest of the family. It’s a potluck, but my wife is pretending to be health conscious while sneaking brownies on the sly, so our contribution will no doubt be something fresh and green. Don’t feel obliged to eat it.”
He and his buddies used to gather on rooftop patios and do that kind of thing. When had that stopped? When had he gotten so busy making money that he’d stopped being a friend? “I’m in. What can I bring?”
“Nothing required, but if you feel weird not bringing something, ride over to the Wegmans and grab a deli salad.”
He winced, unseen. “All right, I’ll whip something up, but I’ll need a bigger bowl than what I have in the apartment.”
“Grab what you need out of the Gallagher kitchen. If Kate was here, she’d hand you anything you need.”
“See you later.” He put in two more hours of work, made a much-needed shopping trip to the giant supermarket on Route 20 and got back with just enough time to make his offering.
Once it was done, he strode through the carriage house, and paused.
Wearing a short-sleeve shirt and shorts, Rory was manning the grill, accompanied by a taller woman, her sister Emily.
He’d seen the pictures in the event center, the three Gallagher women, each unique, all gorgeous.
But then Rory raised her head, and suddenly all he could see was her. Watching her, seeing the jut of her chin, the quick smile and the way those honey-toned eyes crinkled at the corners... No, her sisters were fine women, but neither one held a candle to the youngest Gallagher. He was kind of surprised the other men didn’t see it.
He wanted to gulp like an adolescent. Reach up and slick back his hair to make sure it looked right.
Ridiculous.
But when he locked eyes with her over the grilling meat and garlic-laced asparagus, it didn’t feel silly. It felt significant. And nice. He shifted his focus to meet her sister, but his attention quickly strayed back to amber-brown eyes that seemed to shine a little brighter whenever he was near.
Chapter Four
Rory checked the temperature of the outdoor gas grill before she laid three pounds of Zweigle’s hots across the grate. The ideal conditions of sun plus a lake breeze while grilling equaled summer perfection and she’d challenge anyone to argue otherwise.
“Hot dogs?” Her sister Emily cut across the grass from the shopping niche that drew people into town. “Red, white or both?”
Rory smiled. “Both. And Italian sausage.”
“Can I call Grant, have him bring the kids?”
“Grant already knows. He’s just pulled up,” she added as Grant McCarthy’s SUV appeared at the corner. “Your cell phone must have locked up again, because everyone else is on board but you. Corinne’s bringing dessert along with Callan and Tee, and Kimberly’s bringing a veggie tray.”
“Veggie trays are not barbecue food.” Emily didn’t bother pretending indifference. “We need fries or Grandma’s hot potato salad, or a nice big antipasto and pasta salad.”
“Will this do?”
They both turned as Cruz approached from the garage bearing a large bowl—her mother’s bowl, Rory realized as he drew closer—of an amazingly delicious-looking salad. “Where on earth did you find that? Wegmans deli counter?”
“Drew invited me to come meet the family, so I threw this together after work.”
He threw it together? As in a man who looked this good and cooked? There had to be some sort of mistake.
Rory didn’t have to gauge Emily’s reaction, because her sister pinched her.
“Stop.” Rory scolded with both a look and her tone, but Emily had never been squelched easily, and it didn’t look like that was about to change as she faced the upscale newcomer.
“You’re Rosa’s son.”
“Cruz. And you’re Emily. Your pageant pictures are on both levels of Kate & Company.”
“Trapped in time!” Emily laughed and extended her hand with all the elegance of the pageant queen she’d been. “Nice to meet you, Cruz. Where are the kids?” She turned back toward Rory as she asked the question, and gave her a sisterly eye roll of approval.
“Drew took them for a walk with Mags while we wait for Kimberly to appear with the veggies. Although I’ll scrap the veggies for whatever Cruz has in Mom’s bowl.”
“Chicken and artichoke salad with kalamata olives, freshly chopped celery, crumbled feta, grape tomatoes and a balsamic dressing.”
“You’re like a walking, talking cable food show.”
“When I wasn’t working the grape—” he crossed to the nearby picnic table and set down the bowl “—I was working in the kitchen. Dish-washing mostly, but now and again the chefs would let me help. I learned a little here, a little there, and when you live in Manhattan, if you can’t cook, you’re at the mercy of restaurants. It gets old.”
“Eating out gets old?” Rory shot him a look of surprise. “Oh, to travel in your world for just a day or two. I expect it wouldn’t get old that quickly, would it?”
He laughed, and it wasn’t the suave, deep sound she expected, all movie-star friendly. It was boy-next-door normal, as if he was normal.
He wasn’t.
She’d heard about Rosa’s son at length—the older woman’s mix of pride and regret. He’d set the financial world on fire in Manhattan. He’d zigzagged his way through a decade-long bull market and made the investment firm and himself significantly richer. He’d stayed away because Rosa had pushed him away, and the older woman’s remorse was plain to see.
But this guy had inherited more than his mother’s Mediterranean features. He’d inherited her dogged work ethic, the urge to be the best. Rory had shrugged off movers and shakers a long time ago. She was a simple person and the last thing she needed was to go all schoolgirl crush on her co-guardian.
He sniffed the air, crossed to the grill and reached to open it. “May I?”
“Don’t tell me you do hot dogs, too?”
He winked.
Her heart stopped midbeat, then started tapping a tarantella in her chest.
Time for a cooldown, because as light and fun as she tried to be around Lily and Javier, the task they’d been given wasn’t to be handled casually. Two children’s lives were at stake; their futures might lie in his hands.
No, she’d keep a cool distance between herself and “Romeo” Maldonado.
He was a playmaker, accustomed to getting his way. When it came to those children, she’d do whatever it took to make sure their best interests were served.
Emily followed her inside. “That’s Rosa’s son? Seriously?”
“Shh. He’ll hear you. And what are you doing, fussing over him? You’ve seen cute guys before.” Rory pretended to be bored.
Emily wasn’t buying it. “There’s cute and then there’s should-be-on-the-big-screen handsome, so don’t pretend you’re immune. I saw the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t looking.”
“He wasn’t looking, was he?” Too late, Rory realized she’d been trapped. “Lay off. We’ve got to work together, and then he goes back to New York, and if I’m really blessed and give up sleep for the next month, I might get the school grant finished. And life as we know it moves on.”
“What if the legalities around the kids can’t be resolved?” Emily redirected her attention outside, where Javier and Lily skipped up the driveway, looking delightfully normal. Drew and his nearly teenage daughter, Amy, f
ollowed, laughing.
But their legal status was in question, and the thought of what might happen to them went beyond worrisome. Did Cruz know his mother had threatened to grab the children and leave town? Uncle Steve had talked her out of it, but Rory had seen the look on Rosa’s face. If things looked bad, she might do just that, although where a sixty-four-year-old woman with health problems thought she’d hide with two cute Hispanic kids was anyone’s guess.
She’d seen Rosa disappointed, worried, anguished and sorrowful these past few years, but she’d never seen her angry until this week, and when she did, Rory understood the full range of possibilities. If Elina’s children were threatened with deportation, Rosa Maldonado might take them and run, and that was something she needed to talk about with Cruz.
* * *
“Cruz, would you like to help me put the kids to bed?” Rory posed the question as the summer shadows began to stretch east from the westward-angled sun.
Her request surprised him. He hesitated, then found out Rory Gallagher didn’t do well with hesitation.
“That’s okay.” Dismissive, she tossed a handful of paper plates into the garbage can outside the garage without looking his way. “I’ll do it.”
“I’ll help.”
Now she hesitated, as if wanting to reject him. Instead she pulled in a deep breath and called for the kids. “Lily. Javi! Say good-night to everyone, please. Time for bed.”
Lily came willingly. She looked tired. Was she worn-out by the long day? Guilt swept him for not taking the kids for the afternoon. Maybe he should have gotten them and brought them back here for rest time if Rory had work to do. Kids still took naps, didn’t they? But until what age?
He had no idea, and that was only the beginning of what he didn’t know about children.
Javi was ignoring Rory, so Cruz crossed the yard, picked him up and held him almost upside down.
“Eee!” The boy screeched with glee, then reached up for Cruz. When he swung the boy upright, Javier wrapped his arms around Cruz’s neck and sighed.
A tiny little fellow, cuddling and sighing against his neck.
Their Surprise Daddy Page 5
