Privately? A lump glugged in Allison’s throat. Surely he hadn’t complained to Mother . . .
“Certainly, Aunt Cait.” Cassie rose and offered a handshake. “It’s good to have you aboard, Mr. Barone. No matter how brief your tenure, your presence is a huge relief.”
Nick stood to shake her hand, his tone almost warm. “Thank you, Miss McClare. It’s nice to know I can offer some peace of mind.”
Allison bit back a grunt. Humph . . . I’d like to offer some piece of mind . . .
“Please call me Cass. As a former Texas girl, I don’t stand on formality all that much.” Her gaze veered to Alli with a definite sparkle. “And with two Miss McClares in the building, it might make things a bit easier, right, Al?”
No, “easier” would be if he weren’t here at all . . .
“Then I insist you call me Nick,” he said, his congenial tone starting to get on her nerves. “That’s what my friends call me.”
He has friends? Allison fought the squirm of a smile.
“Then see you Monday, Nick. Take your time, Aunt Cait—I’ve been tanning Hadley’s hide in an ongoing game of gallows, so we won’t mind the wait.” Cassie passed Allison with a swish of her skirts, sliding her a wink before she sauntered to the door.
Cassie closed the door, and Alli sat up straight, ready to defend herself against slander.
“Allison,” her mother began with a crisp fold of her hands, “I want you to know that I am not overly thrilled with your intention to work late after school some afternoons or take the cable car home, but I realize your need for independence, so I respect that.” She lifted her chin, the barest flicker of a smile on her lips. “But, you’ve expressed an interest in learning jiu-jitsu, so Uncle Logan and I are willing to do whatever it takes to help you remain safe. To that end, I am happy to say that we have found you a jiu-jitsu instructor.”
Alli caught her breath, the thrill of learning jiu-jitsu almost enough to dispel her rancor toward the man in the chair beside her. Scooting to the edge of her seat, she clasped her hands to her chin, giddy with anticipation. “Oh, Mother, you won’t regret this, I promise. You have my word I’ll be the most diligent student ever. When do I start and where?”
“You’ll start Monday after school, and Mr. Barone feels the gymnasium is the best place since there’s plenty of room for the rubber mat he’ll bring from the precinct.”
White spots danced before her eyes. “Mr. B-Barone?” she whispered, her voice a rasp.
“Yes, darling, of course.” Her mother flashed a bright smile. “I had my doubts that your uncle could secure a jiu-jitsu instructor in the city at all, much less so quickly, but apparently Mr. Barone is a skilled instructor who has trained a quarter of the 14th precinct in the art of jiu-jitsu.” She glanced in his direction, positively beaming. “Goodness, sir, we are so blessed to find one man who can provide so many services to our fledgling school—thank you, again.”
Yeah, blessed. Alli swallowed hard, dread pasting her tongue like glue.
“So, Allison, your first class takes place on Monday. You’ll need to bring your bicycling outfit with the bloomers to change into after school. Mr. Barone tells me there are kicks involved and other fast movements that your teaching attire will impede.”
Alli nodded, unable to speak for the lack of moisture in her throat.
“You’ll work together Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for the six weeks that he is here, and you’ll meet in the gym at four o’clock sharp, which should give you enough time to tidy up your classroom after the final class of the day, all right?”
Breathing shallow, all Alli could do was bob her head up and down.
“Mr. Barone,” her mother said, “is there anything you’d like to add before we conclude?”
Allison allowed a sideways peek, and for the first time, Mr. Personality met her gaze, almost a dare in those gray-green eyes despite the polite tenor of his tone. “I’d just like Miss McClare to be fully aware jiu-jitsu is not just a skill of self-defense, but an excellent means of strengthening balance, self-esteem, and hopefully, if a student applies herself . . .” He paused for effect, his meaning clear in the press of his smile. “Self-control and respect for authority as well.”
A hot rush of blood blistered her cheeks, causing her chin to thrust up several degrees, lips matching the same mulish bent as his. “And will you be teaching the self-control portion of this class, Mr. Barone?” she asked sweetly. “Or will that be handled by someone more skilled than yourself?”
“Allison . . .” Her mother’s voice interrupted with a quiet authority that commanded her attention. “I am well aware from talking to Miss Penny that you and Mr. Barone have gotten off to a rocky start, for which I have already apologized to him on your behalf. As your mother and principal of this school, I am asking you to lay your differences aside and give him the respect and civility due a teacher and fellow co-worker, is that clear?”
Alli nodded, blinking several times to clear the moisture that pricked in her eyes. “Yes, Mother,” she said quietly, gaze fixed straight ahead.
“Good.” Caitlyn’s heavy sigh filled the room. “I apologize again, Mr. Barone, for my daughter’s unfortunate remark. As our drama teacher, Allison tends to have a bit of the Sarah Bernhardt in her, I’m afraid, not to mention inheriting my mother’s Irish temper. I’m sure she’ll benefit from anything that enhances both self-control and respect for authority.” Her mother’s eyes softened as she smiled at her daughter, her affection more than evident. “But . . . I’m happy to say she’s a quick study and a good girl who has always made me proud.” The barest hint of humor crept into her tone. “However, just in case . . . my door is always open if you have any problems on either score, all right?”
“I appreciate that, Mrs. McClare,” he said, no mistaking the jest lacing his own words as he slowly rose to his feet. Turning his back on her mother, he gave Allison a polite bow of his head, lips twitching with a smile that could only be construed as a smirk. “But as long as she leaves her stick at home . . .” He actually had the audacity to give her a wink before his lips eased into a superior smile. “I think I can handle Miss Bernhardt just fine on my own.”
11
Goodness, is there anything better than family?” Caitlyn sighed and nestled into the thick cushions of her wrought-iron chaise on the stone patio in the backyard, hugging herself in the silky feel of her pashmina shawl. The joyful laughter of her family filled the dusky air with a noisy game of croquet on her lush lawn in the fading pink light. Contentment flowed through her at the sight of Cassie and Alli teasing Jamie and Blake while Bram assisted Meg and Maddie with their shots. Summer’s scent filled Caitlyn’s senses, the lingering fragrance of honeysuckle merging with that of her roses and the tangy smell of the sea, making her wish this moment could last forever.
“No, there isn’t,” a husky voice responded, and she jolted, cheeks warming when she realized she’d spoken out loud. She glanced up, and Logan’s tender smile sent the heat in her cheeks coursing straight to her toes when he sat beside her. His arm grazed her shoulder while he draped it over the back of the chaise. “Family is everything,” he said quietly, the smile on his lips dimming as he watched the others play. “Something I realized all too late.”
Desperate to calm the erratic beat of her pulse, Caitlyn angled to face him, striving for nonchalance as she carefully butted close to her side of the chaise without appearing to distance herself. “The most important thing, Logan,” she said with a gentle touch to his arm, “is what a wonderful uncle you’ve been to my children over the years and still continue to be.” Her gaze drifted to the horseplay in the yard even as a gentle sigh drifted from her lips. “Other than their own father, no man could love or support them more, and for that I will always be grateful.”
Her breath stilled when his palm covered the hand she’d placed on his arm. “Nothing in my life is more important than my family, Cait—nothing.” As if sensing her discomfort at his touch, he pulled aw
ay and hunched forward, arms loose over his knees and hands clasped. He peered at the children while a muscle flickered in his jaw, his chiseled profile as sharp as his gaze. “I would do anything in my power to make them happy,” he said, the husky sound of his voice skittering her stomach. He paused before unsettling her further with a sideways glance. “And that includes their mother and aunt.”
Muscles contracted, both in her throat and her stomach, reminding her of that painful night last year in Napa when he’d declared his love two years after Liam’s death. “I love you, Cait, and the fact is, I always have.” Their easy friendship had nearly been destroyed in the altercation that followed. Until she’d learned months later it had been Logan’s secret vote on the Board of Supervisors that saved her Vigilance Committee proposal to clean up the Barbary Coast. Her gratitude had prompted her to restore her friendship with the brother-in-law who stirred her heart more than he should, pleading for friendship and nothing more. “Friends forever, Cait,” he’d promised, setting her mind and body at ease until he’d uttered those final two words. “For now . . .”
Her lips trembled into a smile. “I know that, Logan—you’ve proven it time and time again with both me and my children, and I am eternally grateful for your friendship.” She didn’t miss the almost imperceptible press of his jaw before loud squeals drew both of their attention to the conclusion of croquet.
“Mama, Mama—Bram and I won!” Maddie said with a squeal, launching into her mother’s arms while the others ambled toward the patio, laughing with mallets and balls in hand. The six-year-old shimmied into the narrow space between Logan and her, easing Caitlyn’s pulse considerably. “And Uncle Logan, guess what?” She wiggled into his lap, giggling when he snuggle-monstered her neck. “The girls are gonna play against the boys in charades ’cause Jamie says they have to teach the girls a lesson.”
“Is that a fact?” Logan’s deep laughter warmed Caitlyn’s heart, his rapport with her youngest daughter as close as if she were his very own. And she might have been had I not broken our engagement. She released a silent sigh, wondering if she would ever be free from the hurt of Logan’s betrayal to let thoughts like that go. He cradled Maddie like a baby, playfully nuzzling her neck while she giggled in his arms. “That means it’s me against you, Miss Madelyn McClare,” he said in a gruff voice, tickling her until she squirmed off his lap.
“And against Mama, too,” she said with a thrust of her pert little chin, chubby hands on her hips, “because you’re a boy and she’s a girl.”
“You’re certainly right about that,” Logan said with a roguish grin, unsettling Caitlyn with a sly wink. “Except I’ve learned the hard way not to go up against your mother.”
“Ice-cold lemonade and fresh-baked cookies in the parlour,” Rosie called from the kitchen window, and Caitlyn grinned at the shrieks and giggles that filled the summer night. Blake and Jamie wasted no time racing Alli and Cassie to the French doors of the conservatory while Meg’s lilting giggle drifted in the brisk night air. A surge of warmth seeped through Caitlyn’s chest at the sound of her seventeen-year-old daughter’s laughter as Bram ushered her inside. She watched him playfully tweak Megan’s neck before he opened the door for her, and for surely the thousandth time, Caitlyn silently thanked God for the gift of Bram Hughes in their family.
Without question, Bram was more brother to her son Blake than distant cousin and certainly more of a son to her than a nephew who spent most of his time at their house. But without doubt, the greatest gift he’d given her over the years was the special attention he lavished upon her middle daughter, helping to counter the cruel ridicule of peers who mocked both her weight and thick eyeglasses. With his tender heart, easygoing manner, and deep affection for Meg, Bram had done more to heal Meg’s wounded spirit and damaged self-esteem than all the stellar grades in high school, awards for exceptional writing or art, or top honor roll feats. Exhaling a wispy sigh, Caitlyn couldn’t help but worry how Meg would cope in Paris without Bram, when she left for her senior year abroad in two weeks.
“Hurry, Mama, or Jamie and Blake will eat all the cookies.” Maddie’s pleas interrupted Caitlyn’s reverie as her youngest daughter tugged on her hand.
“Well, we can’t have that, now can we?” Laughing, Caitlyn rose to her feet, halting only when she felt the touch of Logan’s hand to her arm.
“Can we talk for a moment, Cait?” His tone was casual as the shadows of night obscured his handsome face. “Privately?”
“All right,” she said slowly, pulse tripping over what might be on his mind. She scooped Maddie up in her arms and gave her a tight squeeze, depositing a kiss on her cheek before she set her back down. “Darling, will you run inside and make sure Jamie and Blake don’t steal all the cookies, then save me a place right next to you, all right?”
“Yes, Mama,” the little girl called, tearing into the house like a shot.
Buffing her arms more from trepidation of Logan’s need for privacy than the cool shadows of dusk, Caitlyn turned and offered him a tentative smile. She suddenly shivered, the trill of tree frogs and the bite of the crisp evening air harkening back to that summer night in Napa when Logan had kissed her. “What is it?” she whispered, almost afraid to ask.
His low chuckle took the chill off when it caused heat to pulse in her cheeks. “You can sit down, Cait, I won’t bite.” He twined his fingers in hers to tug her back to the chaise. Then as if to put her at ease, he shifted to his end of the settee. The sleeve of his dark linen suit draped over the back like before, but thankfully far from where she sat perched on the edge, arms clutched to her waist. He smiled. “I want to talk about Allison.”
“Allison?” She faced him square on, instantly forgetting any nervousness she may have had. “What about Allison?”
He chuckled again, eyes twinkling in the glow of the shaft of light that spilled from the conservatory. “Nothing’s wrong, Cait, so no need for that look of panic in your eyes. I just wanted to discuss Allison’s quest for independence and what I’ve done to secure her safety.”
All of Caitlyn’s concerns drifted out on a frail exhale of air. “Oh, Logan, I can’t thank you enough for referring Mr. Barone to fill in for Mr. Bigley—he’s absolutely perfect.”
Logan’s smile went sour as always at any mention of the Italian officer. “I know,” he said with a flat press of his lips, absently scratching the back of his neck, “in more ways than one.”
Caitlyn relaxed in her seat, grateful for Logan’s assistance. “Indeed—what are the chances of finding one person with the skills to fill in as both watchman and handyman and then teach Allison too?” She leaned forward, her smile warm. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“Yes, you can, Cait—you can let me foot the bill.”
She sat straight up. “Oh, no, this is my school and my expenditure.”
Logan exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, but I need control of Barone because the stakes are higher than you know.”
The cool night air clogged in her throat. “What do you mean?”
He stilled her with a steady gaze. “I didn’t just hire him as temporary watchman and handyman for the school, I hired him as a bodyguard for Allison without her knowledge.”
“What?” Caitlyn blinked. “Why?”
He studied her for a moment before he released a heavy sigh. “Because of the details of what happened the night she was accosted, and I intend to see it never happens again. And Allison is as stubborn as you when it comes to the Barbary Coast. She wants to come and go as she pleases, and Barone will make that possible.”
“The details of the night she was accosted?” Her voice was weak. “What details?” she whispered, then jutted her chin when she realized what else he had said. “And I am not stubborn when it comes to the Barbary Coast and neither is Allison.”
He hiked a brow. “I presented you with countless opportunities to open your school anywhere else in San Francisco, Mrs. McClare. But you insisted on doing so in the most
corrupt and dangerous part of town, against both my counsel and request.” The edge of his mouth tipped, lightening the sobriety of his tone. “You put the fear of God in me, Cait, worrying about you and my nieces day in and day out.”
Her lips quirked. “Well, somebody needs to put the fear of God in you, Logan, because heaven knows a dose or two wouldn’t hurt.” She gave him a sideways squint, bristling at his propensity to try to run her life. “And you don’t need to worry about me—I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
He shook his head, his smile flat. “And you wonder where Allison gets it.”
“You’re dodging my question—what details of the night she was accosted?” she repeated, her corset suddenly too tight.
His jaw ground the slightest bit as he assessed her, as if considering how much he should reveal. He finally exhaled loudly, then fixed her with a sobering gaze. “It wasn’t a mere purse-snatching as Allison led you to believe. According to Barone, she was thrown down on the ground by some lowlife who ripped her blouse and scuffed her up pretty good before Miss Penny wielded her gun.”
Caitlyn felt the blood drain from her cheeks as she stared, finding it difficult to breathe. Her eyelids flickered closed at the thought of her daughter in harm’s way, and all because her mother was too stubborn to consider the risks of opening a school on the Barbary Coast. Tears pricked, and she put a hand to her eyes, fingers quivering along with her stomach.
A single sob broke from her throat before she could choke it back, and Logan instantly pulled her into his arms, soothing her with a gentle rub of her shoulders, his words soft against her hair. “I debated telling you the details, Cait, because I knew it would jolt you, but you need to understand just why I’ve commissioned an armed officer like Nick Barone to watch over you and the girls, the school, and especially Allison.”
“B-but s-she m-made it s-sound so matter-of-fact.” Caitlyn squeezed her eyes shut to stem the flow of more tears, the familiar smell of lime shaving soap and a trace of wood spice providing more comfort than it should. “Why would she lie?”
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