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

by Tullis, Heather

  But Cleo was right—she was too thin now. And she grew tired faster than she used to. She’d excused it as stress about Mike and being a full-time mom, but it wasn’t about that. She knew it now.

  And Cleo needed her to have the energy to keep up, so Rosemary was going to have to make a change. She stared at her own eyes in the mirror. “This stops now.” Then she nodded and dressed for bed. Once again, this was something she could control. So she would.

  It had been three days since Cleo skipped school and took ten years off Rosemary’s life. They were both bored out of their skulls despite the fact that Rosemary’s sisters had all stopped in more than once and Harrison spent all of his break time and into the wee hours of the night in their suite.

  There was no sign of Mike, but the detective confirmed that he hadn’t flown anywhere—unless he was using an alias—and the police in his hometown had raided his home and found evidence that he was behind the bombing. Meanwhile, she really needed to get back to her kitchens and Cleo needed to talk to someone under the age of twenty-seven.

  Feeling thoroughly ready to walk out on strike, Rosemary picked up the phone and called Vince.

  “What’s up, Rosemary?” he greeted her.

  “Can you make sure your sister brings Hannah to the party tonight? Cleo needs another little girl to chatter with before we both go stir crazy.”

  “I’ll call Monica and make sure, but I can’t see Hannah passing up the chance to see Cleo—she’s been asking about her. How are you two holding up?”

  “I’d be doing better if there was any change in sight, and if this room didn’t have a guest coming to sleep in it in a couple of days. I’m pretty sure they won’t want to share. They’ve got to find Mike so we can get back to real life.”

  “They’re working on it. Don’t worry, the police are finding leads all of the time.”

  “I hope so.” She looked out the window and wished she could go for a walk. “I’ve been thinking Joel needs to come up and review some self defense moves, but there’s no real defense against a gun.”

  “I thought when he reviewed them with you girls last fall you said you didn’t need any help,” Vince teased her.

  “I didn’t have to protect myself and a nine-year-old then.”

  “True enough.” There was sound of paper being shuffled in the background. “I’ll see what I can do about Hannah. See you in the private dining room tonight.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Is she coming?” Cleo asked as soon as Rosemary ended the call.

  “We’ll see. How’s the social studies coming?”

  “It’s so boring!”

  “Everything with you is boring! When it’s done, we can move on to art.” It was a constant struggle to keep them both on task and Rosemary was absolutely certain—supporting what she’d already known—that she didn’t want to be a teacher or home school her kids.

  “Okay.” Cleo didn’t seem all that excited.

  “I thought you loved art.”

  “I did at my old school. We got to paint and work with clay and other cool things. Here we just draw stuff, which is all right, but I’m not really that good at drawing.”

  “Me either. You saw the drawing I did for Cami’s cake.”

  Rosemary had been sneaking down to work on the cake after Cleo went to bed the past few nights, leaving the officer at the door to keep an eye on things outside and Harrison inside. Her time alone in the pastry end of the kitchen with basically no one around to bother her had been her saving grace. Otherwise she was afraid she would have thrown something at someone by now. She glanced over at the countertop in the hotel room’s wet bar and wondered how badly it would stain if they mixed fondant on it.

  Deciding to deviate a little from the plan, she called down to the kitchen requesting a list of tools and supplies that would overwhelm most home bakers. They were delivered fifteen minutes later.

  Rosemary thought this was the kind of thing her father would have done with her—not the cake decorating, of course, but finding something they could enjoy together. His face was too well known for them to go out much in DC, so he found ways for them to hang out together and talk. She’d forgotten about that and wondered why.

  Cleo looked over at Rosemary curiously as she set things out. “What are you doing?”

  “We’re going to have a different kind of art lesson when you finish social studies. Your pencil drawing can wait.”

  “We’re going to decorate cakes?” Cleo sounded unimpressed.

  “Just wait and see.”

  She set out the rolling mat and pin, looked at the gum paste they’d sent and the modeling chocolate, inspected her gum paste tools to make sure they were clean, and nodded in satisfaction. When it was all laid out, she looked over at Cleo again. “Done yet?”

  “Almost. Stupid Magna Carta.” She scribbled a couple more lines and stuffed her paper into her book. “Done. What are we doing?”

  “I think you need to learn to make some flowers and butterflies. They’re adding a few cupcakes to the cake for dinner tonight, since more people are coming than I planned on, so we’ll add these to the frosted cupcakes to dress them up. The cake is garden themed, so it’ll be perfect.”

  “I get to help?” Cleo looked intrigued.

  “Yes, but first, pull back your hair in a ponytail and wash your hands, then we’ll get to work.”

  They were still working on it when Harrison walked in holding a bowl from the kitchen an hour later. “Hey, what are you ladies doing?”

  Cleo looked up, happiness sparkling in her eyes. “I’m making butterflies for some cupcakes.”

  “Cool.” He walked over and slid an arm around Rosemary’s waist, easing her back against him and pressing his lips to the bare nape of her neck. “I think this is one of my favorite spots, right here,” he muttered as his slid his mouth up along her skin and around to the hollow under her ear.

  Rosemary shivered delightedly, turning her head to accommodate his explorations. “You sure about that?”

  “I said ‘one of,’ didn’t I?” he murmured low enough she doubted Cleo could understand.

  “I see.” Her mouth felt suddenly dry and she had to take a drink from her ever-present water bottle. “Take a closer look at the butterflies. Aren’t they awesome?”

  He pointed to one that was flawless. “You really need to watch that piping bag, you messed this one up, Cleo.”

  She giggled. “That one is Rosemary’s.”

  “Really? I thought they were all yours.” He set the bowl on the table, revealing that it was a mix of fresh fruits. “Thought you might need a break from your hard paperwork, but I see I’m mistaken.”

  “Hey, fruit is a nice break anyway. Cleo’s been learning all about color and how to mix them to make other colors, when outlining is helpful and when it’s not. She’s going to draw some of tonight’s cupcakes for her school project.”

  “That’s brilliant.” He set an approving hand on Cleo’s shoulder for a couple of seconds, then moved on to the coffee table, pulling it closer to the sofa.

  Rosemary and Cleo bookended him when they sat down and they talked and laughed for fifteen minutes while they demolished the selection of melon, apple, orange slices, pineapple chunks, and strawberries.

  “I can’t believe we ate all of that when dinner is in,” Rosemary checked her watch. “Two hours. I won’t want any dinner.”

  “I will. You said I could order pizza if I want!” Cleo bounced off of the sofa. “I’m going to finish my butterflies.”

  “Good plan.” Rosemary watched her put on fresh food-safe gloves and return to work with great concentration.

  “She’s enjoying herself,” Harrison said.

  “Yeah. It’s been good to have this time together, I think. Good for her to know I don’t think she’s in the way.” She leaned a little against his shoulder.

  “Has she called you mom again since the ski accident?”

  “Once.” It made Rosemary sad that it h
adn’t stuck, but she promised to let Cleo make her own decisions about this—she wouldn’t push. “How are things going down there?”

  “Been better. It’s getting a little frenetic planning for our big visitors next week—I keep hearing whispers from the employees, speculating on who it might be.”

  She imagined it would get worse when the prince and princess of Denmark actually arrived. “Anyone guess right yet?”

  “Not that I know of.” He slid his hand into hers. “How are you doing?”

  “I just want them to catch Mike, or tell me that he’s home again so we can get back to real life. I can’t stand having this hang over my head. And I want to be doing something about it—not waiting for someone else to fix my problems for me.” She’d never been good at letting someone else be in control.

  “You don’t do well with that, do you?”

  “Not at all. Inaction gives me hives.”

  “Funny,” he said, leaning in for a kiss, “I don’t remember seeing any hives.”

  She smiled as their lips met. “Not very observant, are you?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Hello, I’m standing right here,” Cleo said when the kiss lingered for a long moment.

  “I know. If you don’t like it, turn your head.” Rosemary pulled away though. “You probably ought to be getting back to work,” she said to Harrison.

  “Probably. It was nice to get away for a little bit, though. I needed a break from my desk.”

  “Yeah, it’s like you’re chained to it, you spend so much time there.” They both knew she worked more hours than he did, but that was the nature of their jobs—and partly her choice since she insisted on cooking more than most kitchen managers did.

  “Forty-hours per week is a lot to ask of a man,” he returned.

  She wished she only worked forty-hour weeks. “You’re just mean.”

  He grinned and stood, pulling her up with him and leading her to the door. Before he opened it, he brushed his lips over hers once, twice, three times. “See you later tonight.”

  “You bet.” She sighed a little as he left the room, then turned back to Cleo.

  “And you’re not in love with him?” Cleo’s brows lifted the same way Cami’s did when she was making a point.

  Rosemary smiled. “Shut up, squirt.”

  Cleo laughed and did as she was told.

  Rosemary was left wondering if she’d recognize love if she saw it—was that what this was? She felt so good when Harrison was around—cherished, as if there was nothing and no one more important to him. And she wanted to make things easier for him too, but he was a man who seemed perfectly content in his life. What did she have to offer him?

  “Careful, don’t break them!” Cleo said as Rosemary set the new butterflies on top of the two-dozen cupcakes that had been baked and set aside to go with dinner that night.

  “I’m not going to break them.” If she did that at this point, she would be humiliated—she’d managed to get them all back downstairs safely enough, after all.

  “You better not.”

  Rosemary finished with the last one and then pulled out her phone to snap some pictures. Then she carried the tray of cupcakes into the dining room. No one else was there yet, just servers, so she set up the cake on an elevated plate and arranged the cupcakes around it. They had opened a room on one end of the ballroom. Another group was on the other end, but the air wall was up between them, and the doors to the hall and other room were locked.

  “That’s what I want to draw for school,” Cleo said.

  Pleased with the way it turned out, Rosemary snapped a couple more pictures. “Remind me to print one of these for you tonight so you can draw it.”

  “Okay. Do you think my teacher will care that it isn’t the same as everyone else’s?”

  “I bet she won’t mind at all. Where did you put the presents?”

  “Under the table. These tablecloths are really long. I bet she won’t even know they’re there until I pull them out.” She grinned.

  When Rosemary took the tray back to the kitchen, she waved to the off-duty deputy, Trent Oliver. He stood in plain clothes near the entrance to the private room where they’d be eating tonight. Everyone had to go past him to get in, which made Rosemary a little more comfortable about leaving her daughter alone—even for a minute. “Is this what parenting’s supposed to be like?” she muttered to herself. Paranoia about her daughter’s safety had begun the moment she’d found out she had been named as guardian, but it had grown exponentially since the attacks began.

  She was returning to the dining room when she heard Cleo screaming, “Leave me alone! I don’t want to go with you.”

  Rosemary pushed past the hostess who was leading a couple to their table, and was tight on the officer’s heels as he preceded her into the room.

  The air backed up in her lungs when she saw Mike holding Cleo around the waist, a gun to her head. “Out of the way or she dies.” His eyes were a little wild as he stared at the deputy, who had a gun trained on him.

  Had he been in there the whole time? Cleo had said something about how long the tablecloths were. Rosemary felt frozen in place, trying to figure out what to do. Mike wanted Cleo dead, so letting him go with her wasn’t the answer.

  “I’m with the sheriff’s office.” Deputy Oliver’s hand was rock steady. “Come on, Mike, you know you’re not getting out of here alive if you hurt her. Put the gun down and let Cleo go.”

  “If she had just died in the car accident, I wouldn’t have had to do this. Or if her parents had left her to me to take care of, to manage her money. I knew Scott didn’t want her.” He glared at Rosemary. “Why did you have to get in the way? You left her once; you should have just stayed away.”

  “I’ve never stayed away,” Rosemary said feeling cold all over. “Didn’t you know I was always around, visiting and spending time with Cleo? She was my daughter and I needed to know that she was happy and healthy. That goes triple now.”

  He glared at Rosemary. “You are so much trouble. I swear you have more lives than a cat. First you aren’t hurt in the garage accident, then the snake doesn’t bite anyone, you’re barely wounded in the ski accident and I missed when I shot at you. But I won’t miss this time.” His hand was shaky as he nudged the gun against Cleo’s head.

  Rosemary’s lungs seemed to seize as she kept her eyes on the gun. “Mike, is this really about a little bit of money? We know you caused the car accident, and you were behind the bombing. Even if you did get away today, which you won’t, it will only be a matter of time before they catch you and take you in.” She heard anxious voices behind her and glanced out of the side of her eye to see a couple of the servers whispering together and watching her.

  “Wow, you’re smarter than I thought. I didn’t think you’d realize the bombing was me. Everyone blamed it on terrorists taking out the senator. It was so simple—and it was a total fluke that he was there. What were the chances I’d take out someone important enough to cover the truth?” His gaze never left her face.

  “If you hadn’t kept coming after me, you would have gotten away with it.” Rosemary glanced to the side again, and motioned to the servers to move away.

  “What are you looking at?” Mike demanded.

  “There are a lot of people in the restaurant, Mike. Let me clear some of them out. We don’t want more innocent people involved here, do we?” She watched Cleo, saw the terror in her eyes, heard the way she whimpered. She had to get Cleo free, and she had to get these people out of here.

  “No. If you clear them out, you’ll call for help. I don’t think we need anything extra.”

  Rosemary saw Joel come into the restaurant at a full-out run, then slow as he approached. He stopped so she was close enough to hear him, but out of Mike’s sight.

  “Is it Mike?”

  She nodded just a little.

  “I’ve already called 911. Help is on the way.” He touched the gun in his shoulder holster, then turned to the
servers near him and whispered something to them. They started clearing out customers on that side of the restaurant.

  Glad to have that issue under control, Rosemary turned her full attention back to Mike and Cleo, who was sobbing. He held her around the waist so her feet didn’t touch the floor.

  “Come on, Mike,” Trent said, stepping further into the room. “You don’t want to hurt a kid. It’s not her fault. None of this is.”

  Mike’s face tightened. “Not another step or I’ll shoot her. I mean it!”

  Rosemary froze. “What do you hope to gain, Mike? The deputy here has already told you he’ll take you out if you hurt Cleo. What good is this doing?”

  “I’m not stupid, I’ve managed to get this far, haven’t I?”

  Rosemary could have commented, but she held her tongue. “Are you in a financial bind? Do you need some money to straighten things out?”

  “Like you would understand what it’s like not to have the money you need,” he said, his voice growing a little hysterical. “But you had to take mine away from me too, and it’s nothing compared to what you’re getting from your father.”

  “I didn’t do anything to you. I just took in Cleo, my daughter, when you killed your only brother and his wife. How could you do that to them, after everything they did for you?” The outrage of his actions against Don was almost as strong as her terror for Cleo.

  “Uncle Mike, you’re hurting me,” Cleo said, whimpering. He didn’t seem to notice.

  Rosemary made her voice a little lower, hoping it sounded calming. “You don’t have to hurt anyone. You can still walk away.” It was a bald-faced lie. The only way he was getting out of here was with a bullet in him or in handcuffs—and at the moment, Rosemary hoped it was the first option, as long as Cleo wasn’t hurt first.

  Rosemary glanced over when she saw movement and caught sight of Joel slipping through the door in the air wall and moving in behind Mike.

  Her already racing heart seemed to double again as she worried his presence would make things worse. Having someone with Joel’s training in this situation was a definite advantage, but she didn’t know if it would be enough.