Hometown Healing

Kimberly Gallagher’s back in town to run her mother’s thriving wedding business. For a seasoned pro like Kimberly, fixing the high-stress nuptials of a senator’s daughter is no problem. But facing former police officer Drew Slade—the senator’s security chief and her brother’s former partner—is not what she signed up for. Drew knows that Kimberly blames him for her brother’s tragic death. But to single dad Drew, Kimberly feels like coming home. And despite her best efforts, Kimberly can’t help falling for him. Will their past continue to keep them apart, or will an unexpected truth reveal their happily-ever-after?

“Who broke it off?”

He did not just ask that, did he? As if it was his business? Because it wasn’t. Remembering the price tag on this gig made her play nice when she longed to tell Drew Slade to mind his own business. She couldn’t do that so she shrugged lightly. “He did.”

Drew studied her for long, thick seconds, long enough for her heart to do that step-toe dance again. Then he leaned closer. “He’s a moron, Kimber, but I might just send him a thank-you note.”

Kimberly was pretty sure her breathing paused as their eyes met. “What for?”

He winked.

Her heart stuttered. Because Drew Slade had just flirted with her. Sure, he was just trying to ease an awkward moment, but that one brief exchange was enough to stir up those old schoolgirl feelings.

But that was then and this was now, and a whole lot of ugly had passed under their respective bridges.

Multipublished, bestselling author RUTH LOGAN HERNE loves God, her country, her family, dogs, chocolate and coffee! Married to a very patient man, she lives in an old farmhouse in upstate New York and thinks possums should leave the cat food alone and snakes should always live outside. There are no exceptions to either rule! Visit Ruthy at ruthloganherne.com.

An Unexpected

Groom

Ruth Logan Herne

Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.

—Ephesians 4:32

This book is dedicated to the family of NYS Trooper Andrew “A.J.” Sperr, a fine young man from my church who lost his life in the line of duty in 2006 while serving as a NYS State Trooper. May God bless his family and his fellow officers who still mourn A.J.’s loss daily. A memorial has been erected in Big Flats, NY, to commemorate A.J.’s life and service. The website for Sperr Memorial Park is sperrmemorialpark.org.

Acknowledgments

I actually got paid to research this book!

For eight years I was blessed to work as a bridal consultant in a wonderful store, Bridal Hall, in Rochester, New York, run by the Hall family. The Hall family taught me the ins and outs of wedding planning, bridal sales, organizing wedding parties, alterations and teaching me to be that friendly listener, so crucial to happy weddings! They then went on to employ two of my kids as they attended the University of Rochester on the “tuxedo” side of the store, renting out men’s formal wear and booking groom’s parties. On slow winter nights, my boss encouraged Beth and then Luke to bring their university books to study as needed. Their strong family ties and the way they embraced so many of their employees and customers was a first-class example of small business at its finest. I’m proud to acknowledge them in this book.

Also huge thanks to my local police departments. I am honored to include several local police officers/sheriffs among my friends and they deserve a public shout-out for their ongoing dedication and service. May God bless them heartily and keep them from harm.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

It’s not that you can do this, Kimberly Gallagher’s conscience prodded as she strode through the elegantly appointed welcoming area of her mother’s central New York wedding and event-organizing enterprise. It’s that you must do it. And you hate having someone else call the shots. Although having other people call the shots had been her new status update the past few months.

She’d been dumped by a fiancé, had been let go from a job she excelled at and her father’s grim diagnosis of brain cancer had stripped Kimberly of the notion that she was in charge.

She walked into her mother’s office and took a seat to prepare for her only appointment of the day. She was about to meet with the chief security officer for the upcoming pricey wedding of Senator Rick Vandeveld’s oldest daughter. Shelby had organized her special day with Kimberly’s mother months ago. Now they should be able to tweak minor details and put the plan in motion.

Simple, really.

A photo of her parents sat centered on her mother’s desk. Her mother smiled at the camera in typical friendly fashion. Her police chief father ignored the camera and smiled down at his wife, showing his priorities clearly. He didn’t care what others thought.

He cared about his wife.

Staid and solid, in the daily uniform he wore with pride, her father had dedicated decades to the Grace Haven force, an honest cop that bled New York blue even after losing his only son to the uniform more than ten years ago. Pete Gallagher was in the fight of his life right now, with his wife by his side, and anything Kimberly and her sisters could do to make that easier was an honor.

If they didn’t kill one another first.

A soft melodic chime said her appointment had just walked into the reception area.

Dread poked Kimberly’s midsection. It wasn’t the logistics of working Shelby’s wedding that bothered her. It was the fairy-tale headline of Future President’s Daughter Weds Country Star, when Kimberly should have been planning her own wedding, her reception, her happy-ever-after.

That had turned into an epic fail, so today she was handling someone else’s shot at the gold ring. A bride, a groom, a hillside vineyard, a grotto and a sprawling palatial inn overlooking the beauty of Canandaigua Lake.

Envy snaked a cool thread up her spine.

She forced it down and stood as Allison, her mother’s senior assistant, opened the door. Kimberly rounded the desk, turned and came face-to-face with the last person she expected to see back in the Finger Lakes region of upstate New York. The guy who’d lost a partner—her brother—in a sting operation gone bad more than a decade ago.

He stared at her, and the majestic German shepherd walking at his side stared, too.

She stopped, her eyes glued to his, wondering how this could have happened. Hazel eyes, more somber than they used to be. Dark hair, wavy, cut short. Tall enough to make her look up, even in three-inch heels. Her heart went silent. The tips of her fingers buzzed. And if respiration was governed by an autonomous system, why couldn’t she draw a breath?

Andrew Slade breathed first. “When I spoke with your mother on the phone a few weeks ago, you were a bigwig events planner for a successful Nashville record label. What are you doing here?”

A simple enough question to answer in the middle of a convoluted moment. She inhaled, then exhaled to calm her nerves. “Financial restructuring meant downsizing.”

“They fired you?”

He had the nerve to look indignant, as if what happened to others mattered to him. Kimberly knew better. “They’re on a temporary bare-bones budget, but yes.” She kept her gaze cool despite the fact that his look of indignation felt good. She’d worked long and hard at STAC Records, a hot country label that had hit the wall mid-June. The firm’s plan was to hire her back once they’d resolved the books, but in the meantime she was here, facing a man who’d stirred her heart and then her anger many years ago.

“Although the timing is good.” Drew glanced around the office, then at her mother’s chair. “Listen, Kimber, I know this is awkward.”

Nailed it!

“And I’m the last person you expected to see walk through the door.”

Two for two, the guy is on a roll.

He put an easy hand on the dog’s head. “If you’d rather have Emily handle this, I understand completely.”

Her younger sister Emily take charge of a top-tier event like this? Talk about a free fall into catastrophe. “You can’t be serious.”

His expression said he was quite serious. None of the old laugh lines she knew—and liked so well when she was a love-struck teen, crushing on the guy before her—were in evidence now.

“There’s no way that Em—”

Fury erupted beyond the door.

Drew turned, instantly on guard. So did his dog, hackles raised, shoulders up, head strained.

Mags, her mother’s eight-pound Yorkshire terrier, launched into her yipping and yapping, the normally well-behaved pooch streaked across the reception room carpet, feet and fur flying, and when she crested Kate’s glassed-in office door, she braced her front paws, bared her teeth and gave a fairly convincing growl, as if the difference in height, weight, training and attitude between her and the impressive K-9 wasn’t ridiculously obvious.

“Mags!” Kimberly’s sister Emily chased after the dog. “You bad puppy, this is what we get because Mom spoiled you.” She reached down, picked up the dust-mop dog, then stood. “Drew?” She stepped forward to greet their childhood friend, then gave a dramatic pause, gaze pinned to the bigger dog between them. “Will he eat me? Or her?” She angled a look to the little dog in her arms. The Yorkie rewarded her with quick kisses to the cheek.

“Her, possibly.” Drew looked at Mags. “You? Only if I issue the command, and I’m feeling altruistic today. We’ve declared beauty queens to be non–life threatening in most instances.”

“Former beauty queen,” she reminded him, and then gave him a hug. “It’s nice to have you home, Drew.”

Kimberly’s heart tightened.

So did Drew’s face. “It’s where the job brought me. I was just telling Kimberly that if you’d rather handle Shelby’s wedding, we’d be fine with that.”

Emily’s look of fear was only half in jest. “Not in this lifetime. Kimberly gets lead on this, totally. I don’t mind helping out with things, but I’m the schmoozer of the family. When Kimberly steps on toes...”

Kimberly tapped a toe on the floor, unamused.

The toe-tap did nothing to deter the middle Gallagher sister. “I jump in to smooth ruffled feathers, but major events like a presidential candidate’s daughter marrying a country star?” She put her free hand up, palm out. “Out of my league. Kimber takes lead on Shelby’s event while I’m helping her handle the fall regatta, three weddings, several bridal and baby showers, two corporate dinners and a fall festival dinner dance. I consider that a fair trade.”

Kimberly would trade off in a heartbeat if she could, but Emily was right. She’d commanded top dollar in Nashville for putting together major events. To thrust that on Emily would be unfair to her and probably spell disaster for the Vandeveld wedding.

Emily backed toward the door with the Yorkie. “I’m taking Mags upstairs with me so that...?” She raised a brow, silently asking the shepherd’s name.

“Rocky.”

“So Rocky can go the rounds with you guys undisturbed. He’s beautiful, Drew.”

“Thank you.”

The door swung noiselessly shut behind her.

“Well.”

“Well.” He took a seat as Kimberly rounded the desk to her mother’s chair. She opened the portfolio and started to withdraw her mother’s notes. Drew laid one big, strong hand on the portfolio and shook his head.

She raised her eyes, confused. “You don’t want to see the plans?”

“No need because we’re going to change the plans,” he told her, “which means Shelby will most likely hate me. I’m willing to risk it to keep her and her guitar-picking husband and their guests alive.”

“Change the plans?” Kimberly indicated the desktop calendar in front of her, dumbfounded. “The wedding is two months away. You can’t—”

“Can, will and must.” He moved his hand, but he didn’t relax into the chair like most people would. He sat, back straight, shoulders squared, head high, on alert. “Rick Vandeveld is most likely going to be our president-elect in nine short weeks. The reason I couldn’t make the original planning meeting with your mother was because threats against him on the campaign trail kept me tied up. An open affair like Shelby planned?” He shook his head. “Indefensible. The stakes changed the minute Rick actually became the party candidate. That means we start again. From the beginning.”

He couldn’t be serious. The Finger Lakes had become a go-to destination for weddings and events. Changing a date on a huge affair like this would be impossible. “Do you have the authority to change it?” she squeaked the words in disbelief, because this couldn’t get worse.

Kimberly had organized major galas for stars and corporate bigwigs in Nashville, but she’d cut her event-planning teeth in her mother’s primarily bridal business. Crossing a bride was never in anyone’s best interests. But what would a single guy like Drew Slade know about that? Nothing. “Look, Andrew.”

He didn’t wince when she used his whole name. She’d wanted him to; she wanted him to know she wasn’t letting bygones be bygones. Their childhood familiarity had dissolved when her brother lay bleeding on a cold, wet asphalt parking lot a decade ago because Drew had pulled into the sting a few minutes late. The first rule of police work was “cover your partner’s back.”

Drew failed and Dave died.

He met her gaze, cool, calm and collected, totally take-charge, but this wasn’t realigning a parade route for visibility’s sake.

This was a wedding. The senator’s daughter’s wedding. One of the most important days in a woman’s life, so Drew could—

“I not only have the authority—I have the final say. Nothing about this wedding gets done without my approval. There are no ad-libs. There are no unapproved breaks in the itinerary. There are no unexpected last-minute changes.”

Drew Slade needed a major reality check. “Those things are a given in a wedding.”

“Not this time.” He nodded toward the portfolio her mother and Shelby had threaded together several months before. “Everything gets handled differently now that Rick is the party’s candidate. Shelby’s a politician’s daughter. She’ll understand.”

He was half-right.

As a politician’s daughter, Shelby would understand the need to prioritize safety. Kimberly had organized tight security at numerous Nashville events. The merging of a country star with a senator’s daughter warranted security to the max with just the guest list, not to mention the main-event players.

But no bride on earth would hand over carte blanche control of her wedding day to a security employee, no matter how amazingly handsome, rugged and wounded he was. “Andrew, I appreciate your stand, but I really can’t make any changes in Shelby’s wedding itinerary without her permission.”

He withdrew a phone, hit a number and waited. Her rebuttal hadn’t angered him, probably because he ran into security snags and unwilling people regularly in his job. But changing a wedding?

Not on her watch.

He handed her the phone. “Shelby would like to speak to you.”

She reached out to take it.

Their eyes met. Their hands touched, and for fleeting seconds that one-sided high school crush barreled back, teenage emotions of falling for big brother’s best friend. Andrew and Dave, always together. Childhood friends, high school teammates, college roomies and then cops together on the streets of Rochester. Until Dave was just...gone.

Focus on the phone.

She brought it to her ear and turned slightly away from Drew’s intensity. “Shelby? It’s Kimberly Gallagher from Kate & Company. How are you?”

“Exhausted, muddled and wishing my wedding day was a thing of the past, right along with this election. But that’s off the record, Kimberly! In the press I’m smiling and pleased and delighted to be here, supporting my dad.”

Kimberly knew the feeling well. “I hear you. So, listen, Andrew Slade is here and he’s—”

“I know exactly what he’s doing.”

Kimberly’s heart fell, because Shelby’s droll tone spelled t-r-o-u-b-l-e without the acoustic guitar.

“And I don’t know how you’re going to deal with him, Kimberly. He’s such an old bear when it comes to keeping us safe, but then again, that’s why we hired him. Listen, he’s going to fuss and bother, then he’s going to think about it a while and then he’ll devise a plan to make things work. Honestly, if Travis and I had thought things through, we’d have either waited or eloped, but my mother would be brokenhearted if I did that. And a girl can’t go through life disappointing her mother.”

Kimberly decided she liked Shelby Vandeveld from afar.

“So here’s how I’d like to handle this.”

Kimberly lifted a pencil to take notes.

“Give Drew whatever he needs. He’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders, and as long as I show up there and marry my best friend, I’m good.”

“You’re serious?”

“Not as often as my daddy would like, but on this, yes. See what you can save, call me to let me know about changes, email me pictures. Oops, gotta go. Family photo op and cheese tasting! I just love Wisconsin!”

She hung up.

So did Kimberly. She turned slowly. “So that’s Shelby.”

“It is. And she extended her permission, I take it.”

“She said we can rearrange as needed, to keep her informed and she needed to go taste some cheese.”

He made a face of acceptance. “Life in the fast lane of vote grooming. So.” He stood and kept his eyes on hers. “Shall we go see what she and your mother planned? And then we’ll adjust as needed.”

Kimberly bit back the scolding she longed to give. When the Finger Lakes became a go-to spot for weddings and events, her mother had created a business that flourished. The downside was there were few alternative sites at this late date. Every elegant winery, hotel, inn, church and lakeside view had been booked for months if not years. Picturesque autumn in the Finger Lakes drew crowds from all over.

She bit her tongue, stood, lifted the thin portfolio and moved to the door. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Beautiful, bright and still blaming him for Dave’s death. If Drew could rewind the hands of time, he’d have fixed that dreadful night, hundreds of times.

God’s timing. Not yours.

He knew that. He’d finally come to accept it. But seeing the hollowness in Kimber’s gaze when she looked at him brought the loss rushing back.

And now they’d be working side by side on a wedding that couldn’t have been more poorly timed. He followed her through the door, trying not to notice how gracefully she moved. The fitted sundress made that an impossible task and her long blond hair shifted with each step forward.

He shifted his gaze to the floor. Spiky bright yellow heels thwarted that strategy.

Just admit it. She’s gorgeous. She hates you. You’ve got no choice but to work together. You’re doomed.

Rocky paused. Barked. Then barked again.

“Kimberly, hold up.” Drew put his hand over the ever-present weapon at his hip.

She stopped and turned. “Because?”

He shook his head. “I’m not sure. Stay here.” He ignored the impatient look she shot to the receptionist as he studied the layout.

Rocky barked again, but he didn’t aim forward, toward the entrance facing the town square. He turned right, then left as if zeroing in, then moved toward the back of the offices. “What’s down that hall?”

“Restrooms and the back door to the parking lot.”

“Is it unlocked?”

Kimberly nodded. “Of course.”

He frowned, but they’d talk about security changes later. Right now—

He gave Rocky a hand sign.

The broad-shouldered shepherd rushed down the hall, paused, then turned in a half circle. He whined softly, sat, then whined again, like he did when—

Drew stopped that train of thought instantly, because his beautiful eleven-year-old daughter was nearly six hours away at an exclusive Connecticut girls’ camp, a gift from her maternal grandparents. She couldn’t possibly be...

He turned the corner into the recessed alcove.

Amy Sue Slade looked up at him from a seat on the floor, and she had the nerve to smile. “Um... Hi.”

“Hi?” He stared at his daughter, then the door, then her again. “Where did you come from, how did you get here and do you have any last wishes to make before I initiate your death sentence?”

She blanched and stood, but she didn’t look nearly as worried as she should have when her life was on the line. “I told you I hated it there.”

“Telling me you’re unhappy and running away from camp are distinctively different things.”

“It was literally like four turns to get from there to here, a straight shot across Interstate 90,” she protested. “Connecticut and New York share a lot of latitude lines. Not even the least bit dangerous.”

Kimberly came up alongside him, which meant this might not be the best moment for a family brawl. But eleven-year-olds should do what they were told. Always. “You took a train—”

“A bus, actually,” she corrected him. “The nearest trains don’t stop until Rochester and the cab ride back here would have wiped out my debit card.”

“You got on a bus with who knows what kind of people and rode it here?”

“Yes.”

“You are grounded forever.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it, Amy Sue. Forever.”

“I know, Dad. You always mean everything you say.” She let her backpack slide to the floor and held out her arms. “Did you miss me as much as I missed you?”

“More.” He opened his arms. She fell into them, and the feel of holding his precious daughter tipped some of his world back on course. Rick’s eighteen-month campaign had taken too big a toll on their time together. Once this election was done, so was he. He’d take his delightful daughter and find a quiet, cozy place to settle down and be the family they’d never had a chance to be. “Whose idea was it to send you to camp in the first place? What were we thinking, splitting up Team Slade?”

“It was Grandma’s idea because you don’t have time to watch me right now.”

“And that hasn’t changed one bit.” He sighed, held her close, felt her tears and couldn’t suppress the feeling that things just got a little more right in his world.

The back door swung open. Daryl Jackson, his security point man, strode in and smiled. “She found you.”

“So it seems.”

“I saw her edging around back.”

“You could have radioed.”

Daryl’s grin flashed in his bronzed face. “More fun this way. So, Miss Amy, before he kills you dead, sweet thing, do you have a hug for me because now I’m going to have to listen to him complain about what to do with you while we’re working. A hug is downright necessary in that case.”

“Uncle Daryl!” She grinned and launched herself into Daryl’s arms, then turned toward Kimberly.

Drew turned also. He wasn’t sure what he expected to see on Kimberly’s face, but compassion hadn’t made the short list. “Kimberly.”

She looked up and arched a brow that hinted amusement.

“Yes?”

He hauled in a breath and drew Amy forward. “My daughter, Amy Slade.”

Kimberly squatted, and in that formfitting dress and three-inch heels, he was pretty sure squatting was no easy task. And then she smiled right at Amy, and that smile took him a long ways back. Emily might have been the beauty queen of the family, but in Drew’s eyes, Kimberly had always been the beauty. And still was.

“You look just like your dad did when he was your age.”

“For real?” Amy made a cute face and looked up. “No one’s ever told me that before, but then I’ve never met anyone who knew Dad when he was young.”

Kimberly graciously ignored the whys and wherefores of his hometown absence. “Now you have, and I assure you, you’re a chip off the old block, and I’d venture to say that your little adventure today is the kind of thing your dad would have done.”

Amy grasped his hand. “I don’t like being away from Dad for even a little while. Three weeks was way too long, and then I was going to be shipped off to boarding school for the rest of the campaign. If I can’t handle three weeks apart, I can’t even think about months. That would be like the most awful, ever. And I’m not exactly like the other girls at the camp.”

“Rich? Cultured? Well educated?” Drew listed the attributes in a wry voice.

She slanted her father a look that said he was being too generous. “I was going straight to unathletic, boring and pretentious, but we can add rich to the list. Now that doesn’t matter.” She hugged her father’s arm, clearly delighted. “As long as I’m with Dad, everything’s okay.”

“Except it’s not,” Drew reminded her. “I’m working. Daryl’s working. Your grandparents are touring Australia. We have to focus, Amy, and there’s something about a daredevil kid hanging around that splits my attention. The perils of being a single dad,” he added, for Kimberly’s benefit.

“She can ride with us today, can’t she?” Kimberly turned slightly. “And by the way, Daryl?” She reached across Amy to shake Daryl’s hand. “I’m Kimberly.”

“A pleasure, ma’am.”

“You won’t mind?” Drew asked. Shelby’s wedding was a seriously priced six-figure deal, and having a kid ride along wasn’t professional.

“Do you like to talk, Amy?” Kimberly looked down again.

The girl grinned. “Far too much, my dad says.”

“Perfect.” Kimberly moved toward the reception area. “An instant cure for grown-up awkward silence. She’s absolutely welcome to come along.”

“Sweet!” Amy squeezed his hand, grinning, before she hurried ahead to catch up with Kimberly.

This wasn’t sweet, Drew decided. It was uncomfortable and problematic, because as much as he loved his daughter, he was committed to making sure Shelby’s wedding went off without a hitch. International terrorists and domestic unrest didn’t allow a margin of error. His focus needed to be strictly on this upcoming event, but walking in front of him, side by side, were two reasons that wasn’t going to happen, and he wasn’t at all sure what to do about it.

He paused and called the camp to withdraw Amy’s name from their registry and reassured the camp director that he didn’t intend to sue. He put the necessary call to Eve’s parents on hold. Explaining Amy’s actions to them would take more time than he had right now. Their probable indignation over the lost funds would be completely understandable, and the time difference between Grace Haven and Adelaide iced the cake. Best to leave that until later.

He hung up the phone to rejoin the diverse group waiting for him. He’d have decisions to make soon, major ones, but right now strategizing this wedding took precedence. With Amy underfoot and Kimberly’s tightly wound emotions, he wasn’t sure how they were going to manage it, but if something went wrong at this beautiful, heartfelt affair, the guilt would fall on him. He’d left police work because of gut-wrenching guilt. It wasn’t something he wanted to face, ever again.

Chapter Two

“This can be immediately scrapped from the list of possible venues,” Drew told Kimberly as she directed him up the sloping drive of the rose-trellis-backed vineyard.

“It’s a beautiful fall wedding venue,” she argued. But from his point of view, she saw the problems immediately.

“Too open, too visible, one exit and entrance.” Drew shook his head.

“It is her wedding day,” Kimberly reminded him softly.

“And my goal is to get her to the honeymoon safely.” His grim look drew worry lines in his forehead. The Drew she remembered didn’t worry about anything, ever. Decisive and sure, he took everything in stride.

This Drew was different. “This is vulnerable. There’s no way we can have the future president of the United States sitting here in the open with so many unprotected vantage points. The Secret Service would have a field day with this, Kimber.” He used the childhood nickname as if they were still old friends. They weren’t. So why did it sound so nice when he said it? That was something Kimberly would examine more closely later. Or not at all.

“If they swoop in and change everything last minute, we’ll have wedding-day chaos. Let’s avoid that, okay?”

A man moved up, out of the vineyard area, and started to approach the car.

Rocky went ballistic in the rear of the SUV. Front paws braced, barking and snarling. Kimberly’s heart and nerves landed somewhere in the area of her feet when the big dog went into his protective maneuvers.

Drew uttered a one-word command in a foreign language. German, maybe?

The dog desisted, but stood at high alert, hackles raised, nose pointed forward, legs apart. He might be quiet, but his posture said he was ready to do whatever proved necessary to get the job done.

“Kimberly, you’ve never seen Rocky in action.” Sympathy laced Amy’s voice. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. Maybe. Somewhat.”

“Sorry.” Drew darted a quick look of apology her way as he steered the SUV down the exit driveway. “I should have explained that Rocky’s trained to react to uninvited guests. My bad. We weren’t scheduled to meet with anyone there, were we?”

“No. I expect that’s a vineyard worker, coming to see what we are doing or if we need anything.”

“The hill’s angle and the height of the grapevines combined so we didn’t see him until the last possible minute.” Drew pulled out onto the road and headed south. “There’s no way we can have enough people to keep that venue safe, not to mention the photography session at the historic grotto and then around the tip of the lake to the reception site at the inn. There just aren’t numbers enough to make that feasible when you’re talking political dignitaries, country music stars and a European royal family, half of whom come equipped with their own security teams that will, most likely, get in our way.”

“Excuse me for asking,” Kimberly began, and when Drew’s frown said she probably shouldn’t ask, she did anyway. “But wouldn’t this wedding be easier to pull off after the elections?”

“It would have been easier a year ago when Rick was just testing the waters of candidacy,” he replied as he turned south. “But now that he looks like the probable winner, there is no good time for eight years, assuming reelection. Which means we make do with the best we can do here, now. Why didn’t they pick one of those gracious old churches in town? Don’t people get married in sweet, historic churches anymore?”

Kimberly tapped her mother’s notebook. “Shelby made the very good point that by doing it in town, the regular fall traffic, paparazzi and fans would clog the roads, and they’d never get to the photo ops or the reception site, which is true. A bottleneck around The Square is a logistical nightmare during festivals. They’d have to block off roads, and that would cut into sales revenue for local small businesses. It was really nice of her to see it that way.” Their quaint, historic shopping area drew three-season tourist traffic, but major events challenged mobility, and that wasn’t something to be shrugged off for a wedding like Shelby’s.

“There aren’t any festivals the weekend they picked, are there?”

“No, but leaf peepers will be out in full force.”

“Good point.” He sighed and started to turn toward the gracious nineteenth-century gardens Kate had booked for a post-ceremony photo session, but he paused when Kimberly put her hand on his arm. “Turn right instead.”

“Because?”

“I just thought of something. If it works, we might be able to give Shelby the wedding she wants and deserves and you some peace of mind.”

* * *

Peace of mind?

With her hand on his arm, and the luminescent pearl polish glinting softly in the sun?

The scent of tropical fruit and flowers surprised him. At the office, he’d breathed in sugar and spice, but that must have been her mother’s lingering preference.

Her proximity and the hand on his arm as he swung the wheel wafted the scent of tropical fruit salad with a hint of floral, just enough to say “feminine and proud of it” and fun enough to say she liked summer.

So did he.

“Turn left at the top of this hill.”

He did what she asked, then nodded, remembering. “The Abbey.”

“Gorgeous, right?”

“Magnificent building.” Daryl peered out and whistled lightly. “Not much easy ingress or egress, plenty of parking, clear view on three sides. This is a wedding venue? How was it overlooked before?”

Kimberly climbed out and opened the back door for Amy. “Weddings, yes, on a limited basis, but no receptions. The friars sold the main building years ago, with certain stipulations to avoid commercialization. It’s run by an area mission church, and they’re fairly strict about usage in accordance with the friars’ wishes, but renting the building for weddings and retreats and conferences allows them money to fund their work.”

“So you’re thinking we could do the ceremony here...”

“Let’s check availability,” Kimberly advised. “Uncle Steve is the church pastor. His daughter Tara oversees the calendar. Hopefully she’s home.”

“I remember Tara. She was like...twelve.”

“Time marches on,” Kimberly noted softly.

“Someone lives here?” Amy’s eyes went wide as she eyed the broad, beautiful stone building with the impressive domed middle. “This would be like living in a castle.”

“Which would be perfect because then I could put you in the dungeon,” Drew agreed. “That way I’d know where you were, 24/7.”

She laughed and clasped his hand as she exchanged a grin with Kimberly, and that brief moment made the sun seem brighter and the breeze sweeter.

“That view is amazing.” Daryl waved east as he released Rocky from the back of the SUV. The terraced hillside gave way to the long, slim shoreline of Canandaigua Lake.

“Fabulous, right?” Kimberly smiled at Daryl’s surprise, and when he looked over his shoulder at Drew and gave him a thumbs-up, she hoped the date was available. She climbed the steps and rang the bell outside the office door.

Almost instantly the window above them was pushed open. “Kimberly!”

“Tara, hey.” She took a step back and looked up, but she was closer to the step’s edge than she thought. When her three-inch heel missed concrete, she expected to crash to the pavement.

Two hands caught her waist, steadying her. And then for the sweetest of moments, they didn’t let go. “You okay?”

That voice. Deep. Low. Caring. Always looking out for others. The combination of his grip, the tone and the whisper of his breath against her neck took her back to a time when life and love seemed simple. How much had changed since then.

“Yes. Thank you.” She turned and looked straight into concerned, desert camo eyes, flecks of green, gold and brown vying for attention. Warrior eyes. “I’m glad you were there.”

“Me, too.”

Her heart did a physiologically impossible dance in her chest. She chalked it up to an adrenaline rush from the near fall and looked at him again.

“Don’t fall!” Tara’s face mixed joy and concern over Kimberly’s lack of grace. “I’m coming right down. Kimberly, it’s been forever!”

“Friendly little thing.” Drew kept his tone low. “A bit out of step with the dignity of the surroundings, isn’t she?”

“Whereas I would say she was happy to see her cousin after several years away and leave it at that.”

Tara didn’t come to the side door and open it for them. She stepped through the main doors leading into the friary, waited while they came across the tapered steps, then grabbed Kimberly in a hug. “Oh, I miss you! You look marvelous, and I was totally hoping you were planning to have the wedding in Grace Haven and would pick the Abbey. Kimberly, it will be beautiful!”

Drew paused inside the door. So did Daryl. They exchanged looks; then Drew turned, one brow hiked. “You’re getting married?”

Right about then having the floor open up and swallow her whole would have gotten a preferential nod.

Didn’t happen.

Kimberly shook her head and waved off Tara’s words as she realized with her parents’ current circumstances, word of her broken engagement hadn’t been forwarded to the extended family. “Clearly I should have signed into social media last month and changed my status update.” She held out a ringless left hand for Tara to see. “I won’t be looking for a personal wedding venue anytime soon.”

Tara winced. “Kimberly, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

Kimberly shrugged it off. “It’s not a big deal. It’s actually for the best, but thanks.” She nodded toward Drew, Daryl and Amy. “Tara, this is Drew Slade, his daughter, Amy, and his security partner, Daryl Jackson. We’re helping a client prepare for her wedding, and our first venue doesn’t allow for the level of security we need. Then I thought of the Abbey.”

“And I’m glad you did,” Tara declared. “Drew, good to see you again,” she continued in an easy tone. “It’s been a long time,” she added, then motioned toward the office wing. “Shall we check dates first or tour the building?”

“Tour.” Drew’s ease at taking charge said he did it often. Would that take-charge attitude extend to overthrowing all the bride’s decisions? Kimberly aimed a frown his way.

He ignored it completely.

“Come this way.” Tara moved down the spacious entry hall. Daryl and Amy fell in behind Tara, and somehow Drew ended up alongside Kimberly. He turned her way as they walked and kept his voice low. “Who broke it off?”

He did not just ask that, did he? As if it was his business? Because it wasn’t. Remembering the price tag on this gig and the cost of her father’s experimental treatment in Houston made her smile and play nice when she longed to tell Drew Slade to mind his own business. She couldn’t do that, so she shrugged lightly. “He did.”

Drew studied her for long, thick seconds, long enough for her heart to do that step-toe dance again. Then he leaned closer. “He’s a moron, Kimber, but I might just send him a thank-you note.”

Kimberly was pretty sure her breathing paused as their eyes met. “For?”

He winked.

Her heart stuttered, or was that her lungs? Maybe both, because Drew Slade had just flirted with her. Sure, he was just trying to ease an awkward moment, but that one brief exchange was enough to stir up those old schoolgirl feelings.

But that was then and this was now, and a whole lot of ugly had passed under their respective bridges.

Tara waited for them to catch up. “Exactly whose wedding are we planning?”

“Shelby Vandeveld’s,” Kimberly replied.

“That’s a name that raises the stakes somewhat, doesn’t it?” Tara moved toward the chapel area. “As you can see, we have adequate space and generous surroundings to host events up to three hundred people. But the core of our allure lies in the chapel, of course.”

Daryl jotted notes as they walked.

Drew didn’t. In contrast, he studied the venue from top to bottom as they toured the gracious old building. When Tara ended with the domed chapel, Drew paused just inside the door. “Stunning.”

“One of the best kept secrets of the Finger Lakes,” Tara agreed.

Drew shoulder-nudged Kimberly. “You’re brilliant.”

“Save the praise until we mesh dates. I’m sure they have several fall retreats scheduled.”

“We do, so let’s move to my office and see what we’ve got,” Tara suggested.

They moved to the office, where Tara drew up an electronic calendar on her desktop. When Drew gave her the date, she shook her head quickly. “Not available for that weekend or the one before. We have a Sunday open the second week of October...”

“Just Sunday?”

She met Drew’s eye and nodded.

“We need a seventy-two-hour clean date.”

If asking for a three-day security window on popular venues mere weeks ahead of time surprised Tara, she covered it well. “Nothing in October.”

Kimberly had expected that answer, so when Tara paged back to September, she was surprised.

“We had a retreat cancellation,” Tara explained, and she tapped the calendar in front of her. “We actually have a four-day window in September as a result. Would your reception venue be available then?”

Drew frowned. “Most likely not.” He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I should have anticipated Rick’s candidacy and been here at the first meeting between your mother and Shelby. The blame for this is coming straight to my door.”

Kimberly looked at Tara. “How many people were supposed to be at the canceled retreat?”

“Just shy of three hundred.” She studied Kimberly’s face and cringed as if reading her mind. “You know the rules, Kim.”

“How many Indonesian missions is Holy Name Church supporting right now?”

“Three.”

“A price tag like this could double that option and fulfill a patriotic duty. If we don’t figure this out, I’ve got a very nice bride who’s being robbed of her wedding day because she had the nerve to fall in love at a politically incorrect time. Where’s Uncle Steve?”

“He’s at the church food cupboard in Prattsburgh.”

“Would he mind a visit?”

“From you? Never. But don’t be disappointed if he has to say no.”

“What are we asking him, exactly?” Drew faced the two women directly. “The lack of dates puts this out of the question, doesn’t it? Maybe we should consider just having the wedding, pictures and reception at the inn and be done with it.”

“That’s a last-resort answer to an ongoing unresolved problem,” Kimberly chided him. “Let me go talk to Uncle Steve, and we’ll see if we can make this right.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the inn plan, Kimber.”

Drew leveled that stubborn cop gaze her way. Her heart wanted to step closer, smooth the irritation that creased his brow again, but her head kept her right where she belonged, four distinct feet away. “If what Shelby wanted was an everyday wedding, that’s what she would have planned and that would be fine. But a woman who chose rose gardens and a grotto with an amazing view of Canandaigua Lake probably was looking for a perfect fall setting to match the colors she’s picked for everything from flowers to linens to chair drapes. This won’t be exactly what she dreamed about, but it would be something special. Let me talk to Uncle Steve and see what he says.”

“About?”

“Maybe doing the whole thing right here.”

That piqued his interest. Daryl’s, too. He looked intrigued and nodded. “That would solve a myriad of problems, pretty lady.”

“But you said it was against the rules.” Drew included Tara in his statement, but Kimberly answered.

“It is, technically, but there’s nothing holier than the blessing of matrimony. Uncle Steve’s got the final say, but this could work. Of course, we’d have to let the other venue know—”

“No.”

She turned toward Drew, surprised. “No? What do you mean?”

“If this works out, if your uncle agrees, then we keep the other venue listed.”

Daryl nodded again. “The perfect red herring.”

“Yes. We’d pay them, of course, but losing the cost of that is worth the added security we’d get by bringing everyone into town four weeks earlier than we originally planned." He turned toward Tara. “How’s your security on that computer?”

She raised a spiral-bound notebook and asked, “What computer?”

He grinned, and when he did his face shed years of worry. “You’ve done this before.”

“We’ve hosted some big names in the last five years. Knowing when to go old-school and leave no electronic footprint has been helpful.”

“You’re talking our language.”

“But first.” Kimberly reached out her hand for the keys. “I need the keys to go see Uncle Steve.”

He could have just tossed her the keys. He didn’t. He turned toward Tara. “With your permission, I’d like Daryl and Rocky to stay here and familiarize themselves with the layout. And if you two don’t mind, can I leave Amy here so I’m not distracted while I meet your dad?”

She laughed and hooked a thumb toward the east wing. “My mother made cookies last night when things cooled off. Amy and I can grab some and talk girl stuff so Daryl can get his work done.”

Amy hesitated, mock-concerned. “There is no dungeon, right? Because Dad might have an ulterior motive for leaving me here.”

Drew grinned, and once again Kimberly glimpsed the guy he’d been before drug dealers had gunned his partner down in the street. “Then be extra good, honey. Just in case.” He turned back to Kimberly. “Let’s go.”

“You really feel the need to watch me coax my uncle into opening the Abbey for the reception?”

He strode past her, through the door and toward the car. “No surprises, remember? Like it or not, Kimber.” He turned and faced her over the roof of the SUV. “We’re attached at the hip for a while.”

“What about the senator? Who’s protecting him and the family if you and Daryl are here?”

“He’s under Secret Service jurisdiction now. When it comes to this wedding?” He pointed to her, then hooked a thumb back toward himself. “It’s you and me.”

His serious expression held her gaze, but then he did the unthinkable.

He smiled.

And in that smile she saw a glimmer of hope she hadn’t noticed in the first two hours they were together. It brightened his eyes and relaxed his jaw, letting her glimpse the old Drew she’d liked so well back in the day.

Her phone rang. She checked the display and saw her sister-in-law’s name. Dave’s widow, Corinne, left to raise her toddler son and unborn daughter on her own. A single parent driven by circumstances she might not have faced if Drew had gotten to the appointed meeting place on time.

She answered the call, still facing Drew. “Corinne, hey! What’s up? How are the kids?”

The sound of Corinne’s name accomplished her goal.

Guilt replaced Drew’s smile. She’d done it purposely to remind him of what her family had lost at his hands.

He climbed into the car, waited while she finished the call, then started the engine once she was seated. Hands tight on the steering wheel, he aimed the car south and drove to the little town of Prattsburgh without saying a word.

She’d changed his easy mood intentionally, and now she had a twenty-minute drive to ponder what she’d done. When they finally pulled into the parking lot of the small stone church, she figured that might have been the longest twenty minutes of her life, and it was all her fault.

A roadside sign invited people to the weekend services. Beneath the listed times was one simple quote: “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.”

The tight line of Drew’s jaw indicated she needed a whole lot of work in the peacemaker department. He waited while she moved ahead, not meeting her gaze.

Shame coursed through her. Her parents and sisters had never blamed Drew. Now, seeing his reaction to Corinne’s call, Kimberly glimpsed a hollowness inside him, an emptiness that reflected her own. Her shallow move had opened a fresh chasm between them, and she had no clue how to fix it.

She turned as Uncle Steve came through the church door. When he welcomed Drew with a big hug, she felt worse than ever.

Blessed are the peacemakers...

The sign taunted her. Seeing Uncle Steve’s hearty welcome to an old family friend spoke volumes. The rest of the family had moved on, long ago. Why couldn’t she?

Because you were mad at Dave when he died. He’d scolded you about being self-absorbed, and you hung up on him.

And then he was gone. Just gone. And no amount of apology could bring him back or fix that last fateful call.

“Kimberly!” Uncle Steve’s robust voice jerked her back into the here and now. As she stepped past Drew to hug her father’s brother, guilt still bit deep. She’d been a jerk, then and now. Could she change?

Sure, if she wanted to badly enough. One way or another, she needed to come to peace with three things while she was back in Grace Haven. The loss of her beloved brother and a sweeter relationship with her two sisters headed the list. And the other?

She sighed inside.

The other was finding a common ground with Drew Slade. From the set of his jaw right now, that one didn’t look the least bit likely.

Chapter Three

“I can’t believe you talked him into it.” Drew made sure Kimberly heard the approval in his tone. “I’m impressed.”

She shrugged as she fastened her seat belt and checked her lipstick. She pulled out some shade that looked like ripe, sweet cherries and applied a fresh coat.

Drew’s pulse ramped, but this was Dave’s sister. Old angst and harsh feelings lay solidly between them. Ogling her beautiful mouth and her pretty smile didn’t make the short list.

“You knew he’d cave.”

“I knew he’d see the common sense of the situation,” she corrected him as she put the lipstick away. “Uncle Steve’s ministries are very important to their congregation, and money is crucial to aid. He knows my parents are in a rough spot with a lot of unexpected out-of-pocket expenses, so making one exception to help Mom’s business, the next president’s daughter and the bottom line of the mission collections was a no-brainer. While he’s a great preacher—”

“Always was,” Drew noted.

Her smile said she agreed. “He comprehends that little gets done in Indonesia without funds, and the price tag on Shelby’s wedding will keep those three churches and a clinic running for a year.”

Drew whistled, then he stopped the car. “Look.” He waited while she lifted her gaze, and the smile he’d hoped to inspire said she remembered this location from two decades before.

“We spent a lot of time racing up and down those hills,” he reminded her.

“That old toboggan was a death trap,” she remembered. “But not nearly as crazy as those circular sleds that went like lightning. How did we survive?”

“The way most kids do, I suppose.” He studied the long sloping hill and pointed left. “Do you think Harv still makes the best hot chocolate?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t gone sledding since...” Her voice tapered off. Her smile diminished.

Drew read the timeline. She hadn’t gone sledding since Dave died. Neither had he. He’d gone off, striving to fill his life with all kinds of things, but in the end he realized he’d totally become a mess-up and that was that.

And then Rick Vandeveld hired him to do security for his online trading facility downstate. Rick had believed in Drew long before Drew believed in himself again. “Amy would love this.”

“What kid wouldn’t?” She turned and asked the question he knew was coming. “When did you get married, Drew? Because I never heard a word about it.”

It was time to come clean on an old indiscretion. “I didn’t.”

“Oh.” She stared at the old sledding hill. “Well, Amy’s beautiful and smart and so much like you that it’s like having a feminine version. She looks like a princess, but she’s got a warrior mentality.”

“She does.” He gazed at the sledding hill, too. He started to speak, then paused. Kimberly didn’t need to hear his tale of woe. She had her own worries. Life had dealt her a rough couple of months. He was pretty sure she could use a break. He knew he could. “And I have no idea what I’m going to do with her while we’re here. She was supposed to be at camp and then back at school.”

“She didn’t sound all too thrilled about the idea of boarding school.”

“That was just for this term, while Rick gets situated in Washington, but obviously that plan’s been tossed. I’m due back at V-Trade the first of the year, running security.”

“And V-Trade is?”

He couldn’t believe she hadn’t heard of them, which meant he’d talk to Rick about targeting investment-minded women with better-placed advertising. “Online trading corporation. We specialize in cutting out the middle man by using low-priced trading software. We’ve got offices in Manhattan and just outside of Newark.”

“Crazy population density.” She lifted her eyes from the sprawling hill to his. “Doesn’t that feel weird after growing up here?”

He couldn’t deny it, but the frenetic pace of Manhattan had helped heal old wounds. He hadn’t had time to think about them, much less let them fester. “It was a gradual upward climb. That helped. And maybe being so different was good therapy. Rick started small, the business mushroomed and I was along for the ride. Then he became the state senator. And now?” He tightened his jaw. “Rick’s been on a fast track for years, but there’s a part of me that’s ready to slow things down.”

“For Amy’s sake.”

He eased the car back onto the road. “For both of us. It’s time for Team Slade to plant some roots. I don’t want her entire childhood messed up by my constant comings and goings.”

“Who watches her when you’re home?”

“My neighbor. She’s a nice woman—bakes cookies. And she loves Amy. But she and her husband are relocating to Florida this year.”

“Making it the perfect time to make a change.”

He’d thought the exact same thing. “Yes. Moving is hard on kids, but Amy’s resilient. And as you noticed earlier, she’s not exactly feeling the whole ‘in crowd’ thing when she’s farmed out to upscale venues.”

“I got that. So let me make you an offer.”

“I’m listening.”

“Let Amy hang out with Emily or Rory or Allison at the office when you and I are working on something where she can’t tag along.”

“That’s—”

She must have sensed his quick refusal because one hand—one soft, sweet hand—touched his mouth and he quieted down right quick as she spoke for him. “That’s a great idea, Kimberly. Amy will love learning about bridal parties and planning, and I won’t have to worry about her.”

She moved her hand, but the summer scent lingered, making him think of sandy beaches, bonfires and coconut-scented sunscreen. And Kimberly. “You really think that would be okay?”

“I know it would be okay or I wouldn’t have offered,” she replied sensibly. “Rory’s doing volunteer work for migrants when she’s not helping us. She’s running a summer pre-K program over in the elementary school.”

“A missionary at heart, like your uncle Steve.”

“Yes. I’m sure Amy would enjoy helping with the little kids each morning. It’s only got a couple more weeks, but that would keep Amy busy half the day, and the other half could be at the office. Problem solved.”

“You’ve gotten bossier as you’ve matured.” He liked that about her. Kimberly had always been the go-to Gallagher, the one who planned her work, then worked her plan. “No wonder you’re so good at what you do.”

* * *

Drew’s words hit two distinct notes. She was good at her job, and she had gotten bossy. She didn’t always like that side of herself, but quick decision making had been a mainstay for years. “A necessity when making quick assessments.”

“Amen to that.”

“Where are you and Daryl staying?”

“The Country Inn.”

“Might I suggest moving to the B and B on Iroquois Avenue?” She turned to face him. His profile, older, more mature, more focused than she remembered, but dear in its familiarity even when she didn’t want it to be. “You’d be right in town with a great view of The Square and the water. Everything is within walking distance. And that way Amy can duck back to her room now and again if she needs a break.”

“Alone?” He pulled the car into the Abbey’s empty parking lot and turned. “Not gonna happen.”

“How old is Amy?”

“Eleven.”

“What were you doing in Grace Haven at age eleven, Drew?” She knew the answer, and his grimace said he got her drift. At age eleven he and Dave had had village paper routes, they’d drummed up quick baseball and soccer games at the town park and had ridden their bikes wherever two boys wanted to go. “I rest my case.”

“Amy wasn’t raised here. Her environment’s been more protected.”

“By necessity.” Kimberly slung her purse over her shoulder once she stepped out. “Life’s different in Grace Haven. Let her get a taste of that while she’s here.”

“Hey!” Excited, Amy dashed down the steps to meet them. Her shoulder-length, dirty-blond hair lightened in the midday sun, and her smile brightened the moment. “Your uncle said yes! He called Tara and we’re good to go!”

“Who needs a town crier when I’ve got you?” Drew put his finger to his lips. “Bear in mind the sensitivity of this event, okay? You can’t chat about it, or tell your friends back home what’s going on. Even if you’re tempted. Get it?”

“Cross my heart.”

“Tara, I know we kind of sprung this on you,” Kimberly said as Tara and Daryl reached them at a more deliberate pace. “Can you and I sit down—”

“With me and Daryl,” Drew intoned. “Remember?”

“You won’t possibly let me forget,” Kim shot back. When he smiled, she wasn’t sure if she should smack him or hug him, which meant even though she had to work side by side with Drew for the coming weeks, she’d be keeping her distance. She’d had her fill of cops and cop types, and every time she looked at Drew she pictured Dave by his side. Laughing. Scolding. Teasing.

But Dave wasn’t there anymore. She’d never apologized to her brother for dismissing his concerns before he died, and then he was gone and it was too late. Between her reality TV–style summer in Nashville and her father’s health battles, Kimberly couldn’t handle anything else. She tapped her electronic notebook. “Would you prefer I keep hard copy notes, as well?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The way he said it, as if deferring to her when the opposite was true, almost made her smile. And when he grasped his daughter’s hand and moved back toward the wide stone steps, the sight of father and daughter brought back good memories. Not enough to fully cloak the bad ones, but enough to bring a hint of peace to her heart.

She’d relish that sweet peace for however long it lasted, which with a stubborn man like Drew might be five minutes. But it was five minutes she intended to enjoy.

* * *

“Next step—food.” Tara had hooked Kimberly up with a spiral-bound notebook. Drew aimed the car back onto Route 14 while she scribbled notes forty-five minutes later.

“Do you really think that the florist, linen supply company, caterers and all the rest can keep quiet about this?”

“They can. Will they?” Kimberly shrugged. “We’ll see. But if everything is being done under assumed names, the date is changed and the other venue on hold, we’ve got a good start. So back to food.”

“You’re hungry?” Drew turned her way once he was headed north. “Because I’m starved, and I’m sure the kid could eat something. And Daryl’s hungry by nature.”

“And not too proud to admit it,” Daryl assured them from the backseat.

“Then let’s kill two birds with one stone.” Kimberly didn’t look up as she sketched something in the pages of the book. “Josie Gallagher’s got the best barbecue this side of the Mason-Dixon Line, and if you think we don’t know ’cue in New York, you’d be wrong. Let’s go get lunch, and we’ll check out her catering menu.”

“For?”

“The wedding, of course.”

Drew winced. “I’m not sure that Shelby and her mother are the barbecue type.”

“So now we’re worried about the bride all of a sudden.” He didn’t have to look sideways to know the look she aimed his way was less than friendly. “Bear in mind that half the guest list is from the South, and they love barbecue. And in country music, good old-fashioned food ranks mighty high. In any case, this is a moot point until we’ve had you guys taste Josie’s food. She’s on Fourth Street, right along the lakefront, just beyond the state boat-launching facility.”

Drew knew that area. There used to be a funny old diner there, rustic and run-down as the owner aged.

When he turned into the restaurant parking lot ten minutes later, the difference amazed him. “Great place.”

“Right?” She turned and smiled at him. When she did, years rolled back, a bunch of friends, hanging out, grabbing a burger, having a swim. “Josie hired Jon Robilard to do the repairs and upgrades. He brought the whole retro/rustic look back to life.”

“What is that smell?” Daryl breathed deep as he came around the car, and the look of appreciation on his face made Kimberly laugh.

“That’s Josie’s way of welcoming you and your taste buds to Bayou Barbecue. Let’s go see what’s cooking.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Drew pulled the door open and held it as the rest stepped through. “Anything that smells this good has to be amazing.”

It was. They sampled outlaw potatoes, baked to perfection and stuffed with sour cream, cheese and home-cured bacon. Brisket, sliced thin, perfectly smoked, fork tender. Ribs, full flavored and messy, served with a side of a warm, wet washcloth for a quick tableside cleanup. Cheesy corn casserole, an old-time favorite. Cajun chicken. Cajun fish. Pecan pie and home-churned vanilla frozen custard, a town treasure and secret. “Josie bought a franchise from Stan to produce his custard here.”

“No way would Stan Richardson franchise out his business.” Drew’s dad and Stan’s son had been good friends before his parents had passed away. “I can’t believe it.”

“Josie’s pretty convincing,” Kimberly told him, then waved her cousin over as the lunch crowd thinned. “Josie, come here and meet these guys, and if you have a minute, sit and talk with us about event catering.”

“Coffee first,” Josie declared. She made herself a cup and brought a fresh pot to the table along with a tray with four mugs. “I no longer assume that tweens and teens don’t drink coffee because a lot of them do.”

Amy laughed as she reached for a mug. “I love coffee and lattes.”

“Children of a new millennium,” Drew muttered. He didn’t dissuade the choice of beverage, which might mean he was a terrible parent, but he’d been drinking coffee himself since age twelve. And he was doing okay. Most days.

Josie sank into a chair, leaned back and sighed. “Crazy, busy lunch hour.”

“You can say that again.” Daryl smiled at her as he motioned to the kitchen area behind the fast-paced call-in counter. “Best barbecue I’ve had in years. And I’ve had a lot of ’cue in my time.”

Josie beamed. “I love hearing that. Thank you...?” She raised a brow, waiting for Daryl’s name, and Drew’s partner wasted no time. His quick appreciative smile said he was mighty pleased to meet her. Of course, the woman was quite good-looking, and that might have helped spike Daryl’s grin of appreciation.

“Daryl Jackson.” Josie shook Daryl’s hand as he indicated Drew with a quick thumb in Drew’s direction. “We’re on consultation in the area for a couple of months, and I can already predict where I’ll be eating for the duration.”

“Music to every restaurant owner’s ears.” Josie exchanged smiles with him, then turned to Amy. “I’m Josie Gallagher, Kimberly’s cousin. And you are?”

“Amy Slade. This is my dad, Drew. And I have to agree with Uncle Daryl. That was the best barbecue I’ve ever had. In my entire life.”

Drew cleared his throat, and Josie laughed. “My guess is you haven’t had as much as you think, but why not start with the best?”

“Which brings me right back to the matter at hand,” Kimberly told her. “I’m bidding on a last-minute late-September function and I think a multicourse, down-home Southern barbecue would be amazing.”

“As long as the hosts approve it,” Drew interrupted. “We don’t want to make assumptions on their behalf.”

They didn’t? Because wasn’t that exactly what Shelby had empowered her to do? Make things work? And now Drew was flexing muscle in the other direction as if they needed to run things by the bride and her mother. Which Kimberly had every intention of doing, so why was he interfering?

Oh. Wait. Because he was Drew Slade—that’s why. Bossy, assertive and a pain in the neck at the moment, no matter how good he looked in that ribbed black T-shirt and khakis. She sent him a long, cool look, an expression that she hoped telegraphed the feelings behind her words. “Of course, we need approvals, but there’s no way of getting them without pricing, is there, Josie?”

“No, ma’am.” Josie looked from Kimberly to Drew and back again, then smiled. “Give me the specs, and I’ll draw up an estimate with a suggested menu for you by Monday. I’d promise it earlier, but we’re in the thick of boating and tourist season, and anyone who operates a business in the North knows you make money when you can, as you can.”

“How soon would you need confirmation to be able to handle a crowd just shy of three hundred people in five weeks?”

“I’d want firm numbers in ten days. I need time to order the proper cuts and smoke things appropriately. Do we need to do a tasting?”

“Just did.” Kimberly’s smile said she thought Josie’s food passed with flying colors. “Awesome, as usual.”

“Crazy Leon doesn’t let just anyone into his kitchen on the bayou, nor does he release you into the food prep world without making sure you can actually do the job.”

“You worked for Leon?” Daryl hiked both brows, surprised at the mention of one of the barbecue greats. “My mama went to school with him back in the day. She said he was born with a spatula in his hand and a nose for combination elements.”

Josie laughed. “That’s him, all right. I worked for Leon for eight years before I realized I couldn’t handle one more Cajun summer. Not when Canandaigua Lake was calling my name. I relocated here about four years back, and we’re doing okay.”

“That makes three of you that came home,” Amy noted.

Kimberly turned. So did Drew, Daryl and Josie.

“Kimberly, Dad and you,” she continued, looking up at Josie. “It must be a pretty nice place to be if you all end up coming back, right?”

“Except we’re only here on temporary consulting assignment, and Kimberly’s here because her dad is sick,” Drew explained. “Only Josie came back on a permanent basis.”

“There must be something that calls people back, Dad,” Amy argued. “You read it in books all the time. You see it in movies. As if people kind of need to get away, but they leave part of themselves there. In their hometown. And then they come back.”

* * *

The kid had made a great point, so why were her words so tough to hear? Maybe because they were true. Kimberly slung an arm around Amy’s shoulders in a half hug.

“I like your sentimental side,” she told her. “The opposite of your dad. And you know something I’ve discovered?”

“What?” Amy looked up, interested. So did Josie and Daryl. Drew drew his brows together, frowning. Because she thought him dispassionate? Or because Amy was sentimental?

“I forgot how nice this town is. The funny stores and mix of tourists. The traffic around The Square, the endless parade of people at the beach and the five old guys who hang out on the corner of Market and Vine, smoking cigars and playing cards while they watch the world pass by.”

“You’re making a group of feisty old men into a selling point?” Skepticism marked Drew’s words. “That’s a stretch.”

“It’s Grace Haven.” Kim shrugged. “I think when you’re away you get used to a new normal and you forget to appreciate how cool the old normal was. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Well, Pretty Polly sure thinks enough of those fellows to make sure she strolls down Center Street every morning at nine-fifty. Unless it’s raining or a blizzard,” Josie offered, grinning.

“You get blizzards here?” Amy’s voice hiked up. “We get a little snow once in a while in Jersey, but I’ve always dreamed of snowy winters. Sledding. Skating.”

“Shoveling.” Drew looked unamused. He stood and turned toward the door as if he couldn’t wait to escape. “Josie, nice meeting you. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”

“We’ll look forward to it,” Kimberly corrected him. “You’ve got my number, Josie.”

“I’ll be in touch,” Josie promised. Kimberly would have to be blind not to see her cousin’s look of amusement. Amused at her? Drew? The whole situation?

At the moment, she wasn’t finding Drew humorous, approachable or all that friendly, and that was gonna make for a long five weeks.

Chapter Four

Amy likes Grace Haven.

Drew got that. Amy had a case of small-town-itis, wishing for roots, although the snow lament was only because she hadn’t stood in the school-bus loop for ten minutes in a snow squall, freezing to death, or shoveled dozens of driveways to make a few extra bucks. Her snow info had been pretty much relegated to nonstop Christmas movies on the inspirational channel, hope and dreams decked out in red, green and staged snow. So she was loving the thought of her father’s hometown, while Drew was taking a deep breath with every old face he saw. In their eyes he read the timeline. They remembered him ramming around town, him and Dave, best buds, always together.

And Dave was gone.

He dropped Kim at the office and drove the SUV around to the Country Inn. As he exited the car, Kimberly’s words came back to him. He hesitated, glanced at Amy, then pulled out his phone to get the number for the bed-and-breakfast. On this point, Kimberly was right. If Amy was going to be in town for more than a month, it made no sense to have a hotel room on the highway when they could be right in the walking district. He called the B and B to check on vacancies and when the owner heard the time frame, Drew thought she squeaked in excitement. “Six weeks?”

“At least that. And we’ll pay in advance.”

“We’ve got room,” the woman declared. “I can have it ready for you about seven tonight. Is that all right?”

“Perfect.” He turned to Daryl as he hung up the phone. “You okay with staying here at the inn?”

“I am.” Daryl smiled down at Amy. “I think Amy will love living in town, in walking distance to everything—”

“As long as she follows my rules,” boomed Drew in a voice meant to scare her silly.

It did no such thing. She grinned up at him, looped her arm through his and hugged it. “I’ve never been able to walk anywhere on my own. Ever. Not in New Jersey, not in Manhattan. This is like a dream come true, Dad. A normal life, even if it’s just for a little while.”

It wasn’t a dream come true for Drew, but that wasn’t important now. Amy was important. And Shelby’s wedding, keeping it flawless. If he had to face old demons, then it was time to face them. He thought he’d come to terms with Dave’s death, he’d have argued the point if asked, but coming back to Grace Haven and seeing old sights, sounds and people cut deep.

Maybe they’re supposed to.

He ignored the internal twinge and tossed Daryl a burner phone. “Let’s switch things up again.”

Daryl pocketed the phone and headed inside. Drew checked his watch, saw they had over two hours until the B and B could accommodate them and pointed Amy to the car. “Hop in. I’m going to give you the grand tour.”

“Really?” Excitement lit her voice, as if trolling around a one-horse Finger Lakes town was some big deal.

“Yes.”

“I’ll love it, Dad!”

Her eagerness made him smile. Top to bottom, stem to stern, she’d be in her glory because Grace Haven, New York, was small-town perfection. Safe, beautiful, historic, inviting... You name it, Grace Haven had it. Depth of beauty, something not every old town could claim.

His words brought Kimberly’s face to mind. The beautiful Gallagher girl... That’s how he’d always thought of her, once she’d gotten past the pesky adolescent awkward stage.

She was still pesky. But she’d only gotten more beautiful, and how was he supposed to not notice that?

He didn’t have a clue.

He took Amy on a rolling tour of the town, then paused by the water park. “If you cause no trouble tomorrow, we’ll get an evening pass and spend tomorrow evening here,” he promised. “But that means no trouble at all, kid.”

She ticked off her fingers. “No hitchhiking, no drugs, alcohol, boys.”

Drew firmed his jaw, his voice and his grim expression to the very maximum of his abilities. “No boys. Ever. Got it?”

She laughed and hugged him. “They’re icky. Yuck.”

She’d said the same thing for years, but one of these days—sooner, rather than later, no doubt—her eyes would be opened and she’d think boys were kind of cool.

Dungeon time.

He just needed to be in a location with accessibility to old stone basements. Luckily almost every house in the village sported one of those, so he was in good hands for a while.

“Can we walk?”

“We sure can.” He parked the car in the shade, left it running to keep it cool for the dog, then took her hand as they strolled through the quaint, historic business district. “This is The Square.”

“This rocks!” Amy stood in the middle of the town square and spun. “Cars actually go in a square pattern! Who thought of such an awesome thing? It’s like an old movie, Dad.”

“I think a lot of old towns had squares or circles in the middle.”

“Really? As awesome as this one?” She pointed in each direction. “Kimberly’s shop is there. Then there’s clothing, ice cream, bakery, bookstore, hardware store, jewelry, leather stuff.” She ticked off the rest of the shops on her fingers, amazed. “And a park in the middle of it all.”

“It wasn’t quite this fancy when I was your age.” He sat on one of the metal-and-wood park benches and looked around.

“No?” Amy took a seat next to him. “But the buildings are old, so they were here.”

“They were, but a lot of the stores are different now. Artsy and trendy, filled with things to buy.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

He laughed because it was. “When I was a kid there were two accountants, a dry cleaners, a little drugstore, a print shop and two dentists added into the mix, so it wasn’t the surround-all shopping experience you see. This is like a fancy old-fashioned strip mall now, catering to the tourist’s pocketbook.”

“That would be a lot different,” Amy agreed. “I like this better.”

“So does the tourism council, I expect. When I was in college they actually officially named this area ‘The Square,’ and people come from all over to shop here. Except for midwinter, these shops probably do a killer business. Are you hungry yet?”

She shook her head. “Too much lunch. Although I wouldn’t say no to an ice-cream supper.”

“Ice cream it is.” He clasped her hand as they crossed the shaded park, a perfect respite for midday breaks and late-day repose. They got into line at Stan’s Frozen Custard, and he was just thinking how nice it was to not have to talk when someone poked him in the back. Drew had to remind himself that you didn’t necessarily have to draw your weapon when turning around in Grace Haven. He turned, and it took a few seconds to recognize the youngest Gallagher girl. “Rory?”

“Drew.” She grabbed him in a big hug, just like Emily had done. “It’s so good to have you home again. And this must be Amy.” Rory high-fived Amy with a quick smile. “I’m Kimberly’s youngest sister. She said she had a ball with you today.”

“I had fun, too. Kimberly’s great.”

Rory waved that off. “Well, we won’t share that or it’ll go to her head, and the last thing my big sister needs is anyone else telling her how awesome she is. There’ll be no living with her then, and it’s no piece of cake now.”

Amy laughed, but Drew wondered how much of Rory’s spiel was humor and how much truth. Dave used to cringe when his sisters would go at it over almost anything. Drew was an only child, he’d never had to worry about getting along or sharing or doing chores together. Kind of like Amy now. He knew that wasn’t a bad thing...but he wasn’t sure it was a good thing, either.

Rory studied Amy, tapping a finger to her jaw. “You’re in town for a while, right?”

Amy sent a guilty-as-charged look up to her father, then nodded. “Yes.”

“I was wondering...” Rory played the moment as if she’d just come up with a great plan and hadn’t talked this all out with her older sister. Drew knew better. “I teach at a UPK in the mornings until Labor Day.”

“A UP what?”

“Universal prekindergarten, to help kids get ready for school.”

“Oh, with little kids. I love little kids!” Amy shot a look up at Drew, one of those “I’d love to have brothers and sisters” expressions he’d learned to ignore years before.

“Really?” Rory’s brows shot up, and Drew had to hand it to her. She was playing the part to the max and doing it well. “How would you feel about helping me there in the mornings, and then helping Emily, Allison and Kimberly out in the offices in the afternoons?”

“Are you serious?”

“On occasion.” Rory smiled at her. “I missed the whole event planner/wedding planner gene thing, I’m not even all that big on weddings. That’s a lot of money and time invested on one crazy day.”

“The family maverick,” Drew noted as they moved closer to the ice-cream ordering window. “Rory, what would you like? It’s on me.”

Rory didn’t hesitate, and that was another difference between her and Kimberly. Kimberly would have weighed the idea of him buying ice cream, the motives behind it on both sides.

Rory just liked ice cream.

“A hot fudge sundae with mint chocolate chip custard. Please.”

“Dad, can I have the same only with the red raspberry ice cream?”

“Is that a thing?”

Amy grinned. “It is now. Hey, look. There’s Kimberly. Kimberly, hi! We’re over here!”

Kimberly turned from locking the office door and spotted them. Her instant smile made Drew feel better about almost everything. She walked their way, slanted a look down to Amy, then up to Drew. “She doesn’t make undercover easy, does she?”

Amy winced, chagrined, while Drew nodded. “She sure doesn’t. Which made Camp Wellington attractive.”

“Sorry.” Amy put up her hands, palms out. “I totally promise to tone things down. I can do it. I just forget when I get excited.”

“Excitement and youth should always go hand-in-hand,” Kimberly told her. “Having an ice-cream supper, I take it?”

“Yes. Have one with us,” Amy implored. “Rory’s going to. And Dad’s buying.”

He was so certain she’d refuse that he was ready to smooth it over. When Kimberly turned, looked him straight in the eye and arched one amazingly perfect brow, he was pretty sure his heart went into abnormal sinus rhythm...and it felt great. “You know how to clinch a deal, Amy Sue Slade. I’m in. I would love a—”

“Banana split with chopped walnuts and three cherries.”

She held his gaze. Or he held hers. He really wasn’t sure which way it happened, but then she touched one hand to her throat as if unsure what to do and smiled. “You remembered.”

He did. He used to tease her about the huge triple-scoop sundae when all the other girls ordered “baby” sized cones.

Not Kimberly. Not ever.

She touched her throat again, almost...nervous? Because he remembered?

That thought made him smile inside, because he remembered a lot of things about Kimberly Gallagher, things he’d pushed aside because she’d been so angry after Dave’s death.

To everything there is a season...

One of his favorite Bible verses, simple and true. A time for healing, maybe? Maybe long past time. And most definitely a time to set old wrongs to rights and have ice cream on a sun-soaked August night.

* * *

“Can a person be too full to walk?” Amy wondered as they retrieved Rocky from the cool car a little while later. “Because that might be the case on my part.”

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