steady, but when she went to chase after her brother, she stopped and went from happy-go-lucky toddler to instant anger. She stuck out her lower lip, stomped her foot twice and glared across the room at her twin. When Timmy ignored her, she stomped again, scowled at her father and burst into tears.
Grant stood and carried her across the room, then set her down next to Timmy. He came back, sat down and waited for Emily to proceed.
“What’s she going to do when he moves?” Emily asked, and something in her voice tweaked Grant’s protective juices.
“Crawl after him. Or get mad.”
“Oh.”
One word. One tiny, two-letter word, but it was like he’d just been tried and convicted in the court of Gallagher. “You have a better way?”
She looked from Dolly to him, then said, “Walking’s always good.”
“She can’t,” he explained and thought he’d gain sympathy because even though Dolly’s chromosomal defects weren’t blatantly obvious to others, they were real enough.
Emily Gallagher did a slow, thorough look of him, then his daughter, then back. “You mean she won’t.”
“She’s afraid.”
Emily’s expression said she’d figured that out herself. “Won’t stop being afraid until she does it, I expect.”
Irritation mushroomed inside him, like it did every time someone expected Dolly to be normal. She wasn’t normal, not by society’s standards. He understood that, so what was wrong with the rest of the world? “You have kids, Miss Gallagher?”
She shook her head.
“But you know everything there is to know about kids, I suppose? Especially kids with Dolly’s condition?” He was tired of fielding questions from people who doubted Dolly’s diagnosis of Down syndrome, just because her face looked more normal than most affected children.
“Actually, I do,” she answered easily as she flipped the page. “I spent summers here, helping my mother, but my off-campus job during the school year was working in a children’s group home. I spent four years on staff there. We had several clients with limited abilities, some with Down syndrome, and I was honored to work with the wide spectrum of effect. I might have majored in business and fashion design, but I worked with therapists, clinicians and the kids. It’s scary for a normally functioning kid to take those first steps, too, but parents don’t discourage them.”
He hated that she made perfect sense, because Aunt Tillie had been telling him the same thing. Did he want Dolly to be stymied by her limitations? Or did he want her to reach for the stars?
He scowled, because this wasn’t open for discussion. He wanted his perfectly imperfect daughter to be safe. End of story. “Let’s get back to the wedding planning, shall we?”
“Of course.” She answered smoothly, but that was to be expected of a woman who used to field pageant judge questions with grace and a welcoming smile. She smiled now, but something in her eyes said he’d just flunked a test he didn’t even know he’d been taking.
* * *
Emily Gallagher was pretty sure she needed her life back, a life of fabrics and fashions made to flatter the everyday woman.
Schmoozing overprotective fathers hadn’t made her short list, ever. And yet, here she was, helping out with the family business because she was needed. She was fine with that part. It was the bridezilla factor she disliked, and in this case, the “brother-zilla.”
He’d looked downright appealing striding down that hall, toting an adorable twin in each arm.
Tall, strong and vigorous with dark wavy hair and gray-blue eyes. Out of place and yet perfectly natural as he lugged two toddlers into the reception area of her mother’s wedding and event-planning office. And yes...smokin’ hot, even though he was older than her by a decade.
Emily knew his story. Most of the town knew Grant’s story because he was a public figure. Head of the highway department and public works, he was the man in charge for blizzards, floods, road collapses and season-to-season road repair.
Privacy was nonexistent for town officials. She knew that firsthand, her father having been the town police chief for decades. Living center stage was one of the downsides of small-town life. The entire area knew Grant’s wife had walked out on him after having twins, one of whom had Down syndrome. And here he was, trying to juggle raising two kids and planning his sister’s wedding while she and her fiancé were deployed.
Sympathy welled within her, and she drew on that initial reaction when the guy caved to Dolly’s miniature temper tantrum.
Not her kid. Not her business.
Her sister Rory came through the back door just then. Mags, their mother’s spunky Yorkshire terrier, raced in with her. Mags spotted the kids, spun around in circles, jumped up on her hind legs and yapped hello.
“Does she bite?” Grant asked.
Emily raised her eyes slowly as Rory scooped up the Yorkie. “Only on command.”
He narrowed his gaze, holding hers, and she wondered if he was going to get up and walk out. He didn’t, but she was pretty sure he was tempted to. “Keeping these two safe isn’t an easy task, Miss Gallagher.”
“Whereas my dad always told us life was meant to be lived, challenge by challenge.”
He put up his hands as if conceding a battle. “Well, runway walking can be considered dangerous, especially in high heels.”
She froze.
So did Rory and Allison, as if they couldn’t believe what he just said. Even the dog paused, but then Emily burst out laughing. The thought that she still had to justify her Miss Rochester and Miss New York pageant wins years later was absolutely hilarious. Obviously, her years as a major department store buyer were inconsequential in her hometown. “Fortunately, wedding planning is rarely lethal, so we’re all good. What kind of budget are we looking at for Captain McCarthy’s wedding?”
He had the grace to look uncomfortable.
He reached out and steered Dolly away from the stairs. “My mother created a fund specifically for this wedding before she passed away.” He named a figure that allowed her some latitude, and as Emily went through the list of typical questions, he relaxed somewhat. Of course Rory and Mags were now amusing the toddlers, and that was a big help as Allison put the finishing touches on a planning board for an upcoming reception at an esteemed vineyard.
Emily laid out a bunch of brochures before him. “Mr. McCarthy, your job makes you uniquely familiar with the area.”
He nodded, but didn’t ask her to call him by his first name like a normal person would. She wasn’t sure why that irked her, but it did.
“Weather might go our way, or it might not. We’ve had some of our worst storms in January, ranging from blizzards to ice storms, to driving rain storms that caused road flooding,” she said.
“I can’t change the date.”
She
