Family Matters (DiCarlo Brides book 4) (The DiCarlo Brides)

by Tullis, Heather

  © 2013 Heather Justesen

  Ebook Edition

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Published by Jelly Bean Press, 90 S Main St. Ste #2, Fillmore, UT 84631

  Cover design by Bill J. Justesen

  Cover design © 2013 by Heather Justesen

  Cast of Characters

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Excerpt from Wild Hearts

  Acknowledgements

  Other Books in the DiCarlo Brides series

  About the Author

  Camellia DiCarlo Talmadge (Cami)—the oldest of George DiCarlo’s daughters, born to his wife, head of guest services. Married to Vince.

  Sage Parker Watts—Second eldest, head of the resort Spa. Born to Darla Parker. Married to Joel.

  Rosemary Keogh—Third eldest of George DiCarlo’s daughters, born to Wanda Keogh, head of resort food services.

  Lantana DiCarlo Bahlmann (Lana)—Fourth eldest, second daughter by George’s wife, hotel manager. Married to Blake.

  Delphinium Gifford (Delphi)—Fifth eldest daughter by Zelda Gifford, head of resort events.

  Jonquil Chestnut—Sixth eldest daughter by Trudy Chestnut, head of the resort floral center.

  Cleome Markham (Cleo)—Rosemary Keogh’s daughter.

  Vince Talmadge—Landscape architect, best friend of Jeremy and Gage. Married to Cami.

  Jeremy Litster—local photographer, best friend of Vince and Gage.

  Gage Mathews—head of Deer Mountain, the local ski resort. Best friend to Vince and Jeremy.

  Harrison Forest—older half-brother to Sage by another father. Head of hotel HR.

  Blake Bahlmann—regional manager of DiCarlo Resorts, stationed out of the Juniper Ridge resort. Married to Lana.

  Joel Watts—former Navy SEAL, head of hotel security. Married to Sage.

  “Today’s tragedy is going to change your life. For the better I think.”

  Rosemary looked up from the salmon she was deboning and saw Sage standing beside her at the restaurant kitchen counter. “Yeah? Thanks for the heads up, but I’m a little too busy for tragedy today.” Still, she felt a little shiver go down her spine. Sage’s predictions had a way of coming true, even if she sometimes couched them in vague enough terms that the average person might ignore the warnings. The word tragedy rang again in her mind—she was fairly certain Sage wasn’t referring to a burned dish or dropped appetizer. “Not enough going on in your own department right now?”

  Sage didn’t react to the clipped words as her wide, brown eyes studied Rosemary calmly. Her olive skin and curling brown hair gave her the look of a gypsy—a not inapt comparison considering the random, always-accurate predictions. Though the half-sisters hadn’t known each other long, Rosemary had seen enough of these predictions to believe in them.

  “The spa is busy, but I had a few minutes’ break and thought I should come warn you. It’s been on my mind since I woke up this morning,” Sage said. The chaos of breakfast preparation whirled around them, pans clattering, dishes clanking and staff calling back and forth to each other as they prepared for the convention, while feeding late breakfast patrons in the restaurant.

  “Well, thanks for stopping by. I think.” Rosemary didn’t want to dwell on what the tragedy was going to be if there was no way to avert it. And how could a tragedy have a positive outcome?

  Sage touched Rosemary’s arm. “Just remember. Good things come out of bad sometimes too. And this will definitely be one of them.” She gave her arm a little squeeze, and breezed out.

  It was nice to no longer see evidence of the worry and stress that had plagued Sage through the summer and fall, but Rosemary wondered if it left too much time for her to worry about the rest of the sisters. She stretched her back muscles, forcing away the shiver of discomfort Sage’s prediction had caused.

  Maybe Sage had misunderstood her impressions. Rosemary caught on that, then put the whole conversation behind her. She didn’t have time for cryptic messages.

  Rosemary was dragging after a fourteen-hour day when she returned home, her feet sore, her muscles complaining, and with another long day ahead of her tomorrow. She took comfort in the fact that at least everything was ready for morning, even if she wasn’t. Sage’s warning had flitted into her thoughts several times through the day, but nothing she would consider tragic had happened, unless you counted the server who tripped over her own feet and dropped a table’s meals just before she reached them.

  That had been a mess, and the restaurant had to comp the meals—which had eventually made it to them, intact—but Rosemary would hardly consider it a tragedy. She tossed her keys on the kitchen counter and kicked off her shoes in the middle of the aisle, mostly with the hope of annoying Delphi who, in Rosemary’s opinion, had a nearly OCD compulsion about orderliness. She poured herself some hot water from the espresso machine, grabbed one of Sage’s secret tea blends and stepped into the sunken living room to join Delphi, who was watching the news.

  “Anything interesting in your neck of the woods?” Rosemary asked as the newscasters droned on about some new legislation the Colorado House of Representatives was trying to push through.

  “I dealt with a hysterical bride because the linens we ordered are a shade too pink for her reception, a CEO who decided to add an extra ten rooms for his convention this weekend, despite the fact that we’re already at capacity, but I’m not having any trouble with my staff. You?” Delphi brushed the short, blond hair back from her face with perfectly manicured hands. She still wore the cream-colored blouse and navy skirt she’d put on for work that day and despite the fact that she had to have worked nearly as many hours as Rosemary, Delphi still looked perfectly pressed and presentable. Sometimes Rosemary could hate her for that.

  A lot of people thought they were the two sisters who were the most alike, but Rosemary didn’t agree. Sure, they were both strong willed and knew what they wanted, but Delphi had a way of telling you where to go without seeming the least impolite, while Rosemary wouldn’t bother over the pretty words. They were both tall and blond, but Rosemary had long hair that she had to braid out of the way while she worked in the kitchen and she fought daily to keep the extra weight off. Delphi had a short cap of hair, was thin without exercise or paying attention to what she ate and totally uncoordinated, in opposition to the genteel, polished way she presented herself in every situation—at least when she was in public. Their histories were also total opposites, but that was another story.

  Ro
semary pushed the comparison away as it always made her feel a little inadequate. “Things ran mostly fine in the restaurant, the convention banquets went well—unless you’ve heard something I haven’t—and I got my food order done. No major catastrophes—despite Sage saying a tragedy was going to change my life today.” She tried to blow the warning off as if she didn’t believe a word of it, but still felt an itch between her shoulder blades when she thought of it.

  “Sage gave you a warning? That sounds ominous.” Delphi took another sip from her teacup, the soft scent wafting over to Rosemary said it held chamomile. She was the only one of Rosemary’s five step-sisters who was still unconvinced about Sage’s abilities.

  “New information regarding the bombing of a Washington DC café has just come in,” a redheaded news anchor announced on the television. She stared into the camera with a serious expression. “Senator Tate Lampert of Minnesota is confirmed as having died in the blast, along with at least eight other people after a bomb was launched through a window during lunch hour. Authorities are still trying to track down suspects.” She went on to discuss the controversial legislation the senator had been trying to pass and how it wasn’t expected to get enough votes without his push behind it.

  Delphi looked at Rosemary. “You’re from DC; maybe that’s your tragedy.” She pointed to the television. There was a touch of sarcasm in her voice.

  The camera panned back, showing the row of storefronts on the street. Rosemary recognized the café sign hanging crooked against the wall and sighed. She loved the little café and had been going there for decades. “It sure is. They make the best cannoli at that shop. It’s even better than mine.”

  “Liar.” Delphi picked up the remote and turned off the television. “No one’s cannoli is better than yours, as much as I hate to admit that.”

  “Thank you.” Though the loss of the café gave Rosemary wistful beats of nostalgia, Delphi’s unusual compliment did make her feel a little better. “I’m off to bed. Tomorrow’s going to be a bear.” Rosemary carried her tea up to her room to sip on while she prepared for bed, wondering if she’d known anyone who’d been hurt in the bombing.

  The morning zoomed by as the restaurant staff got the continental breakfast out for the finance conference, then turned their attention to preparing the lunches.

  Rosemary was double-checking the croissants they had made that morning when there was a knock on the storage room door. “Come in,” she called as she marked the number on her list.

  “Hey, there’s a guy out there who wants to talk to you.” It was one of the servers. “I told him you were in the middle of something and tried to fob him off on Tate, but he said it was a personal matter and important.”

  Rosemary scowled, but set her clipboard on the shelf and responded coolly. “Thank you for letting me know.” She wondered if it really was personal, or if that was just an excuse the salesman was using to see her.

  He stood just outside the kitchen door, expectantly. First glance didn’t say salesman, though. His suit was too nice, he held himself stiffly, and well, she couldn’t put her finger on it, but his appearance put her a little on edge. “Hello, I’m Rosemary Keogh,” she greeted him with a businesslike smile. “What can I do for you today?”

  “I’m Thomas Sinclair, from Davis and Sinclair. I’m an attorney.” The forty-something-year-old glanced at the people around them. “Is there somewhere quieter where we can talk?”

  Rosemary felt the dread rise inside her. She had been entirely justified in firing Rulon; was he suing her now? She decided to be very, very careful. She pointed to a private room a few feet away and he led her inside.

  When the door shut behind them, she turned to him. “What’s going on?”

  He gestured to a chair. “Please have a seat.”

  “Do I need to sit?” When his expression softened a little, she sank into the one he’d pointed out, her bad feeling growing.

  “A colleague of mine represents Don and Cecelia Markham in Washington, DC. He asked me to come speak with you, since he’s unable to make the trip.”

  “Is something wrong? Did something happen to them?” Hard on her heels was worry about Cleome, their nine-year-old daughter.

  He sat across from her and folded his hands on the tabletop. “Did you hear about the senator who was killed in that café bombing in DC yesterday?” When she nodded that she had, he continued. “It seems they were eating there at the time. I’m very sorry. They didn’t make it.”

  Shock shuddered through her, stealing her breath and nearly stopping her heart. Grief was hard on its heels, with worry following right behind. Her mouth refused to follow directions as she tried to process the information. It took a couple of tries before she got out the words. “Their daughter, Cleo?”

  He made a calming gesture with his hands. “She’s fine. She was at school at the time. But,” he pulled out some papers and passed them to her, “it seems the Markhams have appointed you as their daughter’s guardian.”

  Her head spun and her hands clasped hard on her lap as she tried to put all of those pieces together. Cecelia was dead? She couldn’t quite seem to pound that thought into her head. They’d spoken on the phone only a few days earlier, catching up as they did every couple of weeks. They had been planning for Rosemary’s next visit to DC the following month—her bi-monthly trip to check up on the family in person and be part of Cleo’s life. That brought home what he’d said a moment earlier.

  “They want me to raise Cleo? Are you sure? I would have thought Cecelia’s brother. Or Don’s.” She felt herself begin to hyperventilate. They were going to let her raise Cleo? Hope and terror filled her, though she could have sworn only a moment later that grief had filled her too much to allow any other emotions in, but they all seemed to squeeze inside her at the same time. Did Cleo know about the arrangement? Would she be okay with it? Could Rosemary bring her back home when there were two other women living in the house with her? What would they think?

  Her lungs loosened slightly, though the pain of knowing that Don and Cecelia were gone was overwhelming. “Who’s taking care of her?” She had to get to DC immediately. Her mind slowed to a crawl as she tried to make it compute. How could this happen?

  “You’ll have to contact the attorney for more details. He didn’t tell me that much. Are you okay? Can I get you anything?” he asked. She saw the compassion in his eyes now, the worry that showed in the way his hands gripped the briefcase he’d been carrying.

  “Just a second.” Her daughter. Rosemary was going to get to raise her daughter, the one she’d given to Cecelia to raise. It was something she had never even dared to dream of and made her insides twist with excitement and pain all at once.

  “I’m sure this must be quite a shock to you, considering they had family who could have raised the girl instead, but they wanted you to do it.”

  “Wow. I’m honored.” She sucked in a deep breath and let it out. He didn’t need to know the truth, that they had adopted her daughter and kept in touch. Cleo was the reason she’d gone home for visits—staying away for more than a year would have been too hard—the two-month gaps between visits now was harder than she had expected. “So I probably need to plan on being there for a while. What kind of arrangements do you think I should make?” Her head spun and she couldn’t feel her fingertips anymore.

  “That depends on if you decide to stay here or move back to DC.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t have a choice. I have to stay here through the summer at least.”

  “All right, then. The attorney’s number is on the top of the stack of papers.”

  “Thanks.” Her hands trembled and she felt light-headed.

  “Would you like me to get someone to be with you?” he asked. “If you have a friend or someone I can call, I’d be happy to do that.”

  “No. No, thanks.” She shook her head, looked back at him and forced a smile while she tried to fit the pieces together in a comprehensive form. “I have several fa
mily members here. I’ll go to one of their offices if I need to talk to someone.” Obviously he wasn’t from the area, or he’d have already known that—the whole town had talked about the twisted mess her father had made of their lives. She doubted her legs would hold her weight at the moment, but she didn’t want to face anyone else right now anyway. How could Don and Cecelia be gone? And what kind of mother would she be with Wanda as her example of motherhood? “Their house and stuff?”

  “Everything I know is in those papers. If you’d like to take a minute to read them, I’d be happy to explain anything you don’t understand. Or you can have your own attorney look them over.” He passed over a business card.

  Rosemary flipped open the folder and tried to read the top page, but the words swirled in front of her eyes. She was still in shock. “Maybe when my brain clears. I’ll have my attorney look them over, too.”

  Mr. Sinclair picked up his briefcase and coat and shook her hand. “I wish you lots of luck in the parenting adventures ahead.”

  “Thanks.” Rosemary watched him leave, then returned her gaze to the papers in front of her. Shaking herself out of the fuzz that seemed to be taking over her brain, she pulled out her cell phone to call Alex, the attorney who had handled her father’s estate. He was a pseudo relative—a cousin to two of her half-sisters, and probably already knew about her relationship to Cleo. It seemed her father had told him everything else about them. Family law wasn’t his specialty, but he could help with the estate stuff and he had to know more about these things than she did.

  She felt hot tears of grief roll onto her cheeks. Don and Cecelia were dead. It was like losing her father all over again. Maybe worse because the pain wasn’t accompanied by the twist of resentment she hadn’t been able to release about George. Cecelia had been the mother she’d wished she’d had and Don had filled in for the father who was gone most of the time. She thought of Cleo, of how alone she must be feeling. It made Rosemary want to drop everything and head straight for DC, but she had commitments and arrangements to make, so she’d have to stick it out, at least for a few more hours. She could check on flight times as soon as she had a chance to get her feet under herself.