it.” Brooke Harper stepped forward.
“I worked for a large hotel and when we have leftover food from our events, we take it to a shelter or soup kitchen.”
“Do I take it all? And what about the cake? It’s three tiers with the bride and groom...”
“Donate everything.” Trent didn’t have time or energy to think of a place. “Bill, you decide where it goes.”
He glanced toward the barn to see Larry and Ollie getting into the truck and heading out to the gate to greet the guests and send them home.
Bill snapped his fingers. “St. Theresa’s Catholic Church has a shelter.” He looked at Trent as he pulled out his phone. “Do you think that will be all right with Rory and Diane? I mean, I know they go to the Methodist Church on Grant Street.”
“I think when it’s a charitable act, it doesn’t matter,” Trent told him. “And since Rory instructed me to handle things, I vote for St. Theresa’s. I really appreciate you doing this for the family.”
With a nod, Bill walked back to the truck, holding the phone against his ear.
Trent took Miss Harper by the arm and guided her aside. “I wasn’t able to get ahold of Rory yet, but I left a message for him to call me back. Why don’t you give me your cell number and I’ll call you when I hear from him?”
She hesitated, her gaze searching his. “I think I’ll hang around for a little while...just in case he calls...soon. Besides, it looks like you could use some help here.”
Before Trent could argue the point, she walked toward the men and began directing them to specific jobs: folding and stacking the tables and chairs, then loading them on the truck. Since he didn’t want to deal with more questions, he didn’t stop her.
Over the next hour, the crew of men managed to get everything loaded onto the flatbed. Chet jumped behind the wheel and drove off toward town and the rental company.
That was fairly easy. Trent grabbed a bottle of water that had been retrieved from the kitchen and took a long drink. He looked around and found Brooke Harper standing at the floral archway. He grabbed another bottle. Determined to tell her it was time to leave, he walked to her, but paused, catching her biting her full lower lip, a frown creasing her high forehead.
She seemed to have sensed his presence, turning with a smile. “This is so beautiful. It’s a shame to waste all these lovely flowers.”
He handed her the cold water bottle. “What do you suggest we do with them—ship them off to a hospital?
“They’d probably appreciate them.”
She took a drink and Trent watched her slender neck bend back, exposing the smooth skin.
He quickly turned away to the white arch intertwined with greenery and colorful flowers. He inhaled the soft scent and didn’t know if it was the blooms or the woman. “Okay, I’ll have one of the men take care of the delivery. I don’t want Laurel to have any reminders of today.”
Brooke turned her head. Her green eyes flashed him a look that reminded him a lot of Laurel. “I’m sorry. She must be devastated.”
Trent shrugged. “Probably, but I didn’t get a chance to talk to her. She took off to Denver to find him. Her parents went with her. That’s why Rory isn’t here.”
“Then I showed up and added to your troubles.”
He didn’t disagree. “This isn’t the best time to announce to Laurel that she has a sister and a biological mother—who gave her up.”
* * *
BROOKE WORKED HARD not to look away from Trent Landry. His cowboy hat might have shaded his eyes, but she felt the heat from the rich coffee color. He seemed to be able to reach deep inside her and pull out more than she wanted him to know. But her news wasn’t for him, it was for Rory and Laurel.
“And that’s why Coralee wants to see her. To explain why she had to give her up.”
The tall, muscular man’s dark gaze sent her a glaring look. “By signing away her rights, she made a promise not to contact Laurel.” He folded his arms over his chest. “That’s what full custody means. And now she’s breaking it, by pushing herself into her daughter’s life.”
“She has a good reason.”
“What, guilt, because she gave her away?”
Brooke had trouble staying calm, but she knew she had to focus on her mother’s wish. “I’m sure that Rory will understand why Coralee wants to see Laurel this one time.”
He frowned. “Why, is she dying?”
Brooke’s chest tightened with emotion. “Something like that. Coralee has early-onset Alzheimer’s.”
“Look, Mr. Landry,” Brooke began, still having trouble reading the man. “I didn’t come here to argue with you. I made a promise to my mother.”
“It’s Trent,” he insisted.
She nodded, trying to rein in her frustration. “Trent. Please call me Brooke.”
He smiled and she quickly lost her train of thought.
“Okay, Brooke. Why don’t we go inside and sit down? I think we’ve earned a break.”
Brooke let him escort her up the back steps and through a large mudroom that had a front-loading washer and dryer. On the other wall was a long row of hooks that held a collection of cowboy hats. That was where Trent placed his hat, then motioned her into the next space.
She paused in the doorway and her gaze searched the farm-style kitchen, including a brick fireplace. Lining the walls were white cabinets with black metal hinges and knobs decorating the fronts. Dark-stained butcher-block counters held small appliances, but left plenty of room for making meals or baking cookies. Oh, my, the room was as big as her entire apartment.
Suddenly she was second-guessing her decision to come here. But for months, Coralee had begged her, cried about her other daughter, Laurel. The baby she gave away. What if Rory Quinn didn’t care and he threw her off the property?
Brooke stiffened, feeling Trent’s hand against her spine.
“Let’s sit over here.”
He directed her to an oval table in front of a picture window overlooking the pasture of grazing cattle.
She just realized she didn’t know much about this family. Only what was on the website for Bucking Q Cattle Company. “How many Quinns live here?”
“There’s just the three of them. Rory, Diane, his wife, and the one daughter, Laurel.”
Just one daughter that he knows about, she thought, looking out at the incredible mountains through the glass. “It must have been fun
