Shelby was the one he’d planned to ask to marry him, that night on the beach, and he couldn’t forget how that had turned out. Hell, he’d even wound up tossing her engagement ring into the ocean, that was how nuts he’d gotten. The thought of asking anyone to marry him again had sent shudders through him, but she wasn’t “anyone” and they’d written a few more chapters between them since she’d come home.
He took her hand, the one with the Claddagh ring, which she hadn’t taken off since her interview, and began to remove it. She pulled back a bit, but gave in and let him take the lead.
“I believe it goes this way now.” He took the ring from her right hand, where the crown pointed away from Shelby’s heart, in the promise position, and put it on her left-hand ring finger and made sure the crown pointed toward his heart, to signify an engagement.
With his full attention on the person he’d loved since she’d beat him in tetherball in fourth grade, he asked, “Shelby Lyn Brookes, will you marry me?”
Moved by obvious emotion, turning deep red, she wasted no time. “You bet ya!” she said without hesitation, tears springing from her eyes as she grabbed him around the neck.
Going on tiptoe to be level with his ear, she whispered the sweetest words he’d ever heard. “Yes, yes, yes.”
Epilogue
Sean and Maureen Delaney didn’t waste any time renting an RV and planning a trip, the first of what they hoped would be a tradition of monthly getaways in their new semi-retirement. This one was to Cambria for a huge local artists event, then further south to Laguna Beach for the Sawdust Art Festival, to show her California Pacific Ocean series. Sean was content with being chauffeur and handling the sales aspect, since Maureen had a bad tendency to give her paintings away for a song.
All the boys had found the best women they could ever hope for, Padraig was still in excellent health and, knock on wood, so were Maureen and Sean. Now was the time to pursue their interests, alone, together. Finally.
Along with hiring two new employees, a new handyman and someone to work the front desk during the night shift, Mark and Laurel had invited Padraig to be their local ambassador for The Drumcliffe Hotel. ’Tis the best view for a wedding anywhere along the Central Coast of California, he’d tell anyone at the drop of a hat, while handing out postcards in public venues, then often add, except for maybe Sligo Bay back home in Ireland.
Laurel had tapped Shelby’s culinary talent for ways to upgrade the Prescott B&B’s offerings. Laurel had also come up with a spectacular wedding package idea, including all catering, one that was bound to draw more interest and new customers thanks to Shelby’s growing reputation as the hot new chef on the Central Coast.
Even Padraig had suggested a golf package for guests, by partnering at a discount with The Sandpiper Beach Golf club, and offering to personally shuttle those who signed up to and from the beautiful golf course in his four-seater electric golf cart. What better advertising for the eclectic older hotel than a wee touched, brightly dressed Irishman walking the streets of Sandpiper Beach using his golf club as a cane, spouting the magic of The Drumcliffe, leaving postcards for the hotel in all the local businesses?
Often enough, he was still known to stop anyone on the street or in the pub who’d listen with his favorite opening line. “Did I ever tell you about the time my grandsons saved a selkie?”
*
In late fall, Daniel, Mark and Conor met up for a beer at the family pub one quiet Sunday afternoon. As often was the case whenever they had the chance to get together, they talked about all the changes that had happened since their first ever fishing trip a year and a half ago, over a Guinness. The infamous day they’d saved a seal from a pod of orca.
“Do you think Grandda was right about us saving the seal?” Conor ventured to ask after a long draw on his glass.
“That we actually saved a selkie and that’s why we’ve all found our wives?” Daniel mocked the possibility while raising the forbidden question, the one that nagged way in the back of each brother’s mind, especially whenever they marveled over their good fortune since saving that seal.
Mark stayed silent, not making eye contact. Neither Conor nor Daniel said a word, either. They each thought over the meaning of what their fantastical-thinking grandfather said about debts owed and paid, and his predictions about selkies.
Could the selkie folklore possibly be true?
After a moment, each brother raised his glass at the exact same time, still hesitating to face the question. Daniel looked at Conor, then Conor looked at Mark, all with the unspoken question written in their eyes, then Mark looked at Daniel, who looked again at Conor with tension building in their silence.
True?
“Nah,” they said in unison, relieved, before taking another drink, settling on coincidence for their good fortune.
Then Grandda and Brian came rushing into the pub on a wave of excitement. Grandda took off his flat cap and tossed it on the bar. “You won’t believe what Brian, here, did this afternoon.”
“Golf a level-par game?” Daniel piped up.
“No. I did that, son,” Grandda said with his cheeky grin. “See, we were looking for his ball, in the beach sand, when down the way, we spied a seal all tangled in seaweed and the good Lord only knew what else, making a dreadful sound.” Padraig looked around to make sure he had the attention of each of his grandsons. And Conor had a sinking feeling about exactly where this story was going.
“Brian, boyo, didn’t take a second to think, just stepped over and helped untangle that poor seal, and sent her on her way.”
“The seal swam off okay?” Mark asked in an obvious effort to change the subject.
“Not before looking back, lad.” There was that overly stretched grin again.
“Hey, Brian, good for you saving a seal,” Daniel interrupted.
“Not a seal,” Grandda said. “A selkie, and she had a smile on her face as broad as the Shannon.” Kind of like the one Conor saw on his grandfather’s face.
The brothers shared an indulgent laugh, mainly to humor the old man. Then Conor checked out Brian to see if he was buying any of Grandda’s malarky. Didn’t look like it, thank goodness, only that he was amused.
“So, Grandda,” Conor spoke up when things quieted down. “Are you saying all seals are selkies?”
The old man made his “how absurd” face, brows crunched down, mouth screwed up. “No, lad, are ya daft?”
Then his expression went serene and there was that familiar faraway twinkle in his eyes.
“Only the ones saved by a Delaney.”
*
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FOREVER A FATHER
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The Nanny’s Double Trouble
by Christine Rimmer
Chapter One
When Keely Ostergard entered the upstairs playroom, she found Daniel Bravo lying on the floor. His eighteen-month-old daughter, Frannie, sat beside him, rhythmically tapping his broad chest with a giant plastic spoon.
“Boom, Da-Da,” Frannie said. “Boom, boom, boom.”
Meanwhile, Jake, Frannie’s twin, stood at Daniel’s head on plump toddler legs, little hands over his eyes in a beginner’s attempt at peekaboo.
Watching them, Keely couldn’t help thinking that for a man who’d never wanted children of his own, Daniel sure was a dream with them. The guy rarely smiled, yet he lavished his kids with attention and affection.
“Boo!” cried Jake, followed by a delighted toddler belly laugh that had him toppling head over heels toward his father’s face. Daniel caught him easily and started to tickle him, bringing more happy chortling from Jake.
Frannie spotted Keely first. “Keewee!” She dropped her spoon, lurched to her feet and toddled across the floor with her little arms wide.
Keely scooped her up. She smelled so sweet, like vanilla and apples. “How’s my girl?”
Frannie’s reply was almost in English. “I goo.”
Daniel sat up, Jake still in his arms. “Keely.” He looked a little worried at the sight of her. She came by often to see the kids, but she’d always called first. Not this time. He asked, “Everything okay?”
“Absolutely.” She kissed Frannie’s plump cheek. “Sorry, I know I should have called.” But if she’d called and said she would like to speak with him, he would have asked what was going on, and she didn’t want to get into that until they were face-to-face. He could too easily blow her off over the phone.
Grace, Daniel’s youngest sister, who had answered the door at Keely’s knock, entered the playroom right then. “Keely needs to talk to you, Daniel.”
“Sure—down you go, big fella.” He set the giggling Jake on his feet.
“Come on, you two.” Grace took Frannie from Keely and held out her hand for Jake. “Bath time.” She set off, carrying Frannie and pulling Jake along, on her way to the big bathroom down the hall.
Daniel stood still in the middle of the floor, watching her. “How ’bout a drink?”
“Sounds good.”
Downstairs in the kitchen, he poured them each two fingers of very old scotch, neat. Keely wasn’t much of a drinker, and scotch wasn’t her favorite. But she had an offer to make, and she wanted him to say yes to it. Sharing a drink first might loosen him up a little.
She raised her glass and took a small sip. It burned going down, and she tried not to shudder. “Strong stuff.”
He looked at her sideways and grumbled, “Why didn’t you just say you hate scotch?”
“No. Really. It’s very good.”
He stared at her doubtfully for a couple of awkward seconds and then, with a shrug, he looked out the window. It was after seven on a cool Friday night in March, and already dark out. Beyond the glass, garden lights glowed golden through the thickening fog. Behind her, somewhere far out in the bay, down the tree-covered hill from the front of the house, a foghorn sounded.
Keely rested her hand on the cool, smooth soapstone counter. It was a beautiful kitchen. Her cousin, Lillie, had redone it with meticulous, loving care. It had lustrous heated wood floors in a herringbone pattern, a giant farm-style sink, twinkly glass backsplashes and chef-grade appliances.
Lillie.
Keely’s throat got tight just thinking of her. She’d died eighteen months ago, leaving behind two adorable newborn babies—and one very grim husband. For the last fifteen years or so, Daniel had hardly been what Keely would call a happy guy anyway, but since they lost Lillie, the man rarely cracked a smile.
She took another sip and inched up on the reason she’d stopped by. “So then, what will you do for childcare now?”
He shifted his gaze back to her. “What can I do? Guess I’ll try the nanny service again.”
Keely almost laughed, though it wasn’t all that funny. “Will you ask for the one with the alcohol problem or the one who gets sick all the time? Or maybe the one who’s in love with you?” Daniel was a Viking of a man, big and buff and really good-looking in his too-serious, borderline-broody way. It wasn’t the least surprising that one of the endless string of nannies and babysitters had decided she was meant to become a second mother to his children and show him how to heal his wounded heart.
He pinched the bridge of his manly nose as though he might be getting a headache. “Something will come up.” His eyes—of a rather eerie pale blue—had circles under them. Clearly, he hadn’t been sleeping well lately.
Keely felt kind of guilty for teasing him. Okay, she harbored some animosity toward him for what had gone down between him and her cousin in the last months of Lillie’s life. But that was private stuff, husband-and-wife stuff, stuff Lillie had shared with Keely in strictest confidence.
Daniel wasn’t a bad guy. He’d just had to shoulder too much, too soon. On the plus side, he was a man you could count on—and pretty much everyone did. Keely needed to remember his good qualities whenever she felt tempted to blame him for making Lillie unhappy.
He was doing the best he could, and he did have a real problem. President and CEO of Valentine Logging, Daniel worked long hours. He needed reliable childcare for the twins. Yet the nannies came and went. And Daniel’s mother-in-law, Keely’s aunt Gretchen, had always been his nanny of last resort, stepping up to take care of the kids every time another caregiver bit the dust.
Then two days ago Gretchen tripped and fell—over Jake. The little boy was fine, but Gretchen had four broken bones in her right foot. At seventy and now on crutches, Keely’s aunt was no longer in any condition to be chasing after little ones. Daniel needed another nanny, and he needed one now.
And that was where Keely came in.
She knocked back the rest of her scotch. It seared a bracing path down her throat as she plunked her glass on the counter. “Okay, so here’s the thing…”
Daniel gazed at her almost prayerfully. “Tell me you know a real-life Mary Poppins. Someone with excellent references who can’t wait to move in here and take care of my kids.”
“‘Can’t wait’ might be a little strong, and Mary Poppins I’m not. But as for references, your mother-in-law will vouch for me. In fact, Aunt Gretchen has asked me to take over with the kids for a while, and I’ve said yes.”
Daniel’s mouth went slack. “You? You’re kidding.”
Should she be insulted? She answered tartly, “I am completely serious. The kids know me, I love them dearly and I’m happy to step in.”
He pinned her with that too-pale stare. “It’s just not right.”
“Of course it’s right. Lillie was my sister in all the ways that matter. Jake and Frannie need me right now. I know you and I aren’t best friends, but you’ve got to have someone you can depend on. That would be me.”
“You make it sound like I’ve got something against you, Keely. I don’t.”
She didn’t believe him. But how he felt about her wasn’t the point. Jake and Frannie were what mattered. Yes, he could probably hire yet another nanny
from the service he used. But the kids deserved consistency and someone who loved them.
“Great.” She plastered on a giant smile. “Daniel, It’s going to be fine, I promise you. Better me than yet another stranger.”
His brow wrinkled to match the turned-down corners of his mouth. “You’re busy. You’ve got that gallery to run and those quilt things you make.”
Quilt things? Seriously?
Keely was a successful fabric artist as well as the proud owner of her own gallery, Sand & Sea, down in the historic district of their small Oregon town of Valentine Bay. And whatever Daniel chose to call textile arts, he did have a point. Taking care of Jake and Frannie on top of everything else she had going on would be a challenge.
She would manage, though. Gretchen had asked her to help. No way would she let Auntie G down.
“I’m here and I’m willing,” she said. “The kids need me and they know me.” She raced on before he could start objecting again. “Honestly, I have a plan and it’s a good one. This house has seven bedrooms and only four people live here now—including the twins.”
After his parents died, Daniel and Lillie had raised his seven surviving siblings right there in the Bravo family home. All the Bravo siblings had moved out now, though. Except for Grace. A junior at Reed College in Portland, Grace still came home for school breaks and between semesters. She had the only downstairs bedroom, an add-on off the kitchen.
Keely forged on. “I can take one empty upstairs room for a bedroom and one for my temporary studio—specifically, the two rooms directly across the hall from the twins’ playroom and bedroom. It’s perfect. And most nights, once you’re here to take over, I’ll probably just go home.” She had a cute little cottage two blocks from the beach, not far from her gallery. “But if you need me, I can stay over. With a studio set up here, I can work on my own projects whenever I get a spare moment or two. I have good people working at Sand & Sea, trustworthy people who will pick up the slack for me.”
He leaned back against the counter, crossed his big arms over his soft flannel shirt and considered. “I don’t know. I should talk to my sisters first, see how much they can pitch in.”
Reunited with the Sheriff Page 19
