norm, because no one rose to the heights of financial security that quickly without being prepared for everything, all the time. “I’m done with school at noon, so the kids and I should get back to my house by twelve thirty or so.”
“And they’re okay with you for the day?”
Was he missing the basic meaning of shared custody? She bit back words of protest because anything was doable for a day. “For tomorrow, yes.”
“Thank you, Miss Gallagher.”
“Rory.” She let go of Javier and put out her hand. “As their teacher I’m a mandated reporter. A circumstance which brought us to this moment. I’m afraid your mother is very angry with me right now.”
“As her only child, I’m familiar with the feeling,” he told her. “And I think it’s highly possible that you are as confounded as I find myself by this sudden change in affairs.” He took her hand in his.
She wasn’t sure what she expected. A cool, hard handshake, quick and businesslike? Or a quick touch of fingers, as if too busy?
She got neither.
He wrapped her hand in his and studied her for long, slow seconds. Did he like what he saw, or was he assessing an adversary? She couldn’t tell, and that didn’t sit well with the youngest Gallagher sister. She hadn’t been gifted with the business acumen her mother and older sister Kimberly possessed, a talent they used to run a mega-successful wedding and event-planning business.
And she didn’t have the stage presence and eye for fashion of her middle sister Emily, now a bridal shop owner.
Rory had gotten Gram Gallagher’s help-for-the-downtrodden heart, but right now her goal might be ruined by lack of time and available real estate. With her mother away, and Kimberly’s baby due soon, she would most likely be adding time spent at Kate & Company to her jam-packed days, further dwindling her grant application period.
She couldn’t let that happen. Kids were depending on her, counting on her to provide strong early education for needy families tucked within the hills surrounding Grace Haven. She’d put things off while her dad fought brain cancer in Houston for the past year. Now that he was in remission, her time had come.
Or so she’d thought.
She held Cruz’s gaze.
He’d read the reaction she tried to hide. Rory wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. She had been taken by surprise, but would she have refused to help?
No.
For now she was going to drive home and get these two kids tucked into bed.
Then she’d sit down and start praying, because her life just got put on hold once more. And to tell the truth, Rory Gallagher was tired of having decisions jerked out from under her. “It’s not the first U-turn I’ve made.” She addressed Cruz with a cool tone. “And I expect it won’t be the last.” She slanted a smile to the children and gave a light squeeze to their linked hands. “But it might just be the most fun.” She turned to her brother-in-law, the new Grace Haven chief of police. “Drew, feel free to catch me up on things as they develop.”
“Drew Slade?” A look of recognition lightened Cruz’s face as he turned to Drew. “It’s been a long time.”
“It has, man.” Drew flashed Cruz a quick smile, then waved Rory off. “I’ll catch up with you later. Are you all set with them?”
He meant the kids, and despite the fact that Rory’s life had just been steamrollered, she was more than willing to take care of these sweet souls. “I am. I’ll leave you guys to the legalese.” She looked down and smiled at two confused preschoolers. “It’s almost time for bed.”
“Good night, guys. Sweet dreams.” Uncle Steve waved as the other men dove deep into discussion of the whys and hows of the situation.
These kids didn’t need to hear conversations about themselves. It wasn’t until she’d gotten both kids through the town hall entrance that they were blessed with quiet, the strong male voices muted by distance.
“Come on, guys. Let’s call it a day, shall we?”
Javier looked around, confused.
Lily tried to look brave, but her lower lip quivered as the five-year-old fought tears.
Rory led the kids to her car, tucked them into the seats she’d borrowed from the fire hall and drove home because there really wasn’t any other choice.
Cruz took the right-hand turn along the lake’s western shore, determined to ferret out the facts of the situation from his mother.
She wouldn’t want to see him. She’d made that abundantly clear in the past. They’d fought after his father’s death, and Rosa had ordered him out of the house and out of her life, then spent years ignoring his attempts at reconciliation. Funny how a woman who professed faith in the Bible shrugged off forgiveness in favor of old-world pride.
He pulled into the curved drive leading into Casa Blanca and hit the brakes hard in disbelief.
Flaking, peeling paint marred the front of the house. Weeds and grass had infiltrated the once pristine gardens, while twining roses fought a losing battle with invasive weeds, climbing and choking the once beautiful trellises.
Beyond the curving drive and parking lot, both in need of repair and sealing, his father’s previously impeccable vineyard stood ragged. Overgrown vines stuck out at odd angles, choking and shading the growing fruit below. The barns didn’t look too bad, their paint appeared more recent, but the once prestigious event center had fallen into grave disrepair.
He’d only been gone eight years. How could things have gone this bad in eight short years?
The front door opened.
His mother emerged.
She stared at him as he pulled the car into the drive. Arms folded tight around her middle, she stood straight, solid and self-protective as he exited the car and walked her way. “Hello, Mother. Long time, no see.”
She glared at him, then the upscale car, then him again. “You’ve come to brag, no doubt. To laugh in the face of my ruination. Well, have your say and get out. There’s nothing for you here.”
Was there ever?
Yes, when his father was alive. His father loved to spend time with his only son, seeing and doing things together, learning “the grape” as he called it. He’d spent long hours working side by side with his father, a master vineyard manager, an immigrant success story. And while they’d worked the grape, his mother had managed the sprawling event center she’d inherited from her parents.
He longed to sass her back in kind. If asked, he would have sworn he’d gotten over all of this years ago, but he was mistaken because the urge to argue with his mother was on the tip of his tongue.
Then he remembered Reverend Gallagher’s words that morning. Your mother is sick. Her heart is bad and she’s
