A Forever Family: Their Doorstep Delivery

“Hello, Cassie.”

She actually halted in mid-stride as the low timbre of his voice made the nerves in her belly quiver. “Mr. Garrett—hi.”

He smiled, and her heart started beating double-time. “Braden,” he reminded her.

“I...um... What are you doing here?” Her cheeks burned as she stammered out the question. She never stammered, but finding him here—immediately after she’d vowed to put him out of her mind—had her completely flustered.

“Picking up dinner.” He held up the take-out bag he carried. “And you?”

“I’m...um...meeting someone.” And she was still stammering, she realized, with no small amount of chagrin.

“A date?” Braden guessed.

She nodded, unwilling to trust herself to respond in a complete and coherent sentence.

Of course, that was the precise moment that Darius spotted her. He stood up at the table and waved. She lifted a hand in acknowledgment.

“With Darius Richmond?” The question hinted at both disbelief and disapproval.

“You know him?” And look at that—she’d managed three whole words without a pause or a stutter.

“He went to school with my brother, Ryan,” Braden said, in a tone clearly indicating that he and Stacey’s neighbor were not friends. “But last I heard, he was living in San Diego.”

“He recently moved back to Charisma,” she said, repeating what she’d been told.

“How long have you been dating him?”

“I’m not... I mean, this is our first date. And possibly our last, if I keep him waiting much longer.” She glanced at the silver bangle watch on her wrist, resisting the urge to squirm beneath Braden’s narrow-eyed scrutiny. She had no reason to feel guilty about having dinner with a man. “I was supposed to meet him at seven and it’s already ten after.”

“He knows you’re here,” Braden pointed out. “It’s not as if he’s sitting there, worrying that you’ve stood him up. Although, if that’s what you want to do, I’d be happy to share my penne with sausage and peppers.”

“Isn’t your daughter waiting for her dinner?” she asked, relieved that she was now managing to uphold her end of the conversation.

But he shook his head. “I worked late trying to catch up after four days away from the office, so she ate with my parents.”

“Your mom mentioned that you’d both been under the weather,” she noted.

“Saige had the worst of it,” he said. “But we’re both fully recovered now.”

“That’s good,” she said.

He looked as if he wanted to say something more, but in the end, he only said, “Enjoy your dinner.”

“Thanks,” Cassie said. “You, too.”

Braden forced himself to walk out of the restaurant and drive home, when he really wanted to take his food into the dining room to chaperone Cassie on her date. Unfortunately, he suspected that kind of behavior might edge a little too close to stalking, even if he only wanted to protect her from the womanizing creep.

Because, yeah, he knew Darius Richmond, and he knew the guy had a reputation for using and discarding women. And, yeah, it bothered him that Cassie was on a date with the other man.

Or maybe he was jealous. As uncomfortable as it was to admit, he knew that his feelings were possibly a result of the green-eyed monster rearing its ugly head. Cassie’s unwillingness to explore the attraction between them had dented his pride. Discovering that she was on a date with someone else was another unexpected blow, because it proved that she wasn’t opposed to dating in general but to dating Braden in particular.

He couldn’t figure it out. He knew there was something between them—a definite change in the atmosphere whenever they were in close proximity. What he didn’t know was why she was determined to ignore it.

She was great with kids, so he didn’t think she was put off by the fact that he had a child. Except that liking children in general was undoubtedly different than dating a guy with a child, and if she had any reservations about that, then she definitely wasn’t the right woman for him.

Not that he was looking for “the right woman”—but he wouldn’t object to spending time with a woman who was attractive and smart and interested in him. And the only way that was going to happen was if he managed to forget about his attraction to Cassie.

Which meant that he should take a page out of the librarian’s book—figuratively speaking—and look for another woman to fulfill his requirement.

The problem was, he didn’t want anyone but Cassie.

Cassie was tidying up the toys in the children’s area late Saturday morning when Braden and Saige came into the library. The little girl made a beeline for the train table, where two little boys were already playing. Aside from issuing a firm caution to his daughter to share, Braden seemed content to let her do her own thing. Then he lowered himself onto a plastic stool where he could keep an eye on Saige and near where Cassie was sorting the pieces of several wooden puzzles that had been jumbled together.

“So...how was your date last night?” he asked her.

She continued to sort while she considered her response. “It was an experience,” she finally decided.

“That doesn’t sound like a rousing endorsement of Darius Richmond.”

“Do you really want to hear all of the details?”

“Only if the details are that you had a lousy time and were home by nine o’clock,” he told her.

She felt a smile tug at her lips. “Sorry—I wasn’t home by nine o’clock.” She put three puzzle pieces together. “It was after nine before I left the restaurant and probably closer to nine twenty before I got home.”

He smiled. “Nine twenty, huh?”

She nodded.

“Alone?”

She lifted a brow. “I can’t believe you just asked me that question.”

“A question you haven’t answered,” he pointed out.

“Yes,” she said. “Alone. As I told you last night—it was a first date.”

“And you never invite a guy home after a first date?”

“No,” she confirmed. “And why don’t you like Darius?”

“Because he’s a player,” Braden said simply.

“So why didn’t you tell me that last night?”

“I was tempted to. But if I’d said anything uncomplimentary about the man, you might have thought I was trying to sabotage your date, and I was confident that you’d figure it out quickly enough yourself.”

“I knew within the first five minutes that it would be a first and last date,” she admitted.

“What did he do?”

“When I got to the table, he told me that he’d ordered a glass of wine for me—a California chardonnay that he assured me I would enjoy. Which maybe I shouldn’t fault him for, because he doesn’t know me so how could he know that I generally prefer red wine over white? And maybe I wouldn’t have minded so much if he was having a glass of the chardonnay, too, but he was drinking beer.”

“You don’t like guys who drink beer?” he guessed.

“I don’t like guys who assume that women don’t drink beer,” she told him.

He nodded. “So noted.”

“And when the waitress came to tell us about the daily specials, his gaze kept slipping from her face to her chest.”

“You should have walked out then,” he told her.

“Probably,” she agreed. “Then he ordered calamari as an appetizer for us to share. And I hate squid.”

“But again, he didn’t ask you,” Braden guessed, glancing over at the train table to check on his daughter.

“Not only did he not ask—he ignored my protests, as if he knew what I wanted more than I did.

“But still, I was hopeful that the evening could be salvaged,” she admitted. “Because Valentino’s does the most amazing three-cheese tortellini in a tomato cream sauce. And when I gave my order to the waitress—vetoing his suggestion of the veal Marsala—he suggested, with a blatantly lewd wink, that I would have to follow my meal with some intense physical activity to burn off all of the calories in the entrée.”

Braden’s gaze narrowed. “Is that when you walked out?”

“No,” she denied. “I ordered the tortellini—with garlic bread—and I ate every single bite.”

He chuckled. “Good for you.”

“Then I had cheesecake for dessert, put money on the table for my meal and said good-night. And he seemed genuinely baffled to discover that I didn’t intend to go home with him.” She shook her head. “I mean, it was obvious early on that the date was a disaster, and yet he still thought I’d sleep with him?”

“When it comes to sex, men are eternally optimistic creatures.”

“He was more delusional than optimistic if he believed for even two seconds that I would get naked with him after he counted the calories of every bite I put in my mouth.”

“Note to self—never comment on a woman’s food choices.”

“I’m sure you didn’t need to be told that.”

“You’re right,” he admitted. “But obviously I’m doing something wrong, because you shot me down when I asked you to go out with me.”

“You never actually asked me out,” she said.

He frowned at that. “I’m sure I did.”

She shook her head. “You only asked what we should do about the chemistry between us.”

“And you said the chemistry would fizzle,” he said, apparently remembering that part of the conversation.

She nodded.

“But it hasn’t,” he noted.

She kept her focus on the puzzles she was assembling.

“So what do you propose we do now?”

“Right now, I’m trying to figure out how to tell Stacey that last night’s date was a complete bust,” she admitted.

“You could tell her you met someone that you like more,” he suggested.

She finally looked up to find his gaze on her. “I do like you,” she admitted. “But you’re a widower with a child.”

He frowned. “Which part of that equation is a problem for you?”

“It doesn’t really matter which part, does it?” she said, sincerely regretful.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “But I’d still like to know.”

Thankfully, before he could question her further, Saige came running over with a train clenched in each fist.

“Choo-choo,” she said, in a demand for her daddy to play with her.

And Cassie took advantage of the opportunity to escape.

Chapter Six

She wasn’t proud of the way she’d ended her conversation with Braden, but she’d done what she needed to do. If she tried to explain her reasons and her feelings, he might try to change her mind. And there was a part of her—the huge empty space in her heart—that wished he would.

She left the library early that afternoon and headed over to Serenity Gardens. When she arrived at the residence, she saw that a group of women of various shapes and sizes was participating in some kind of dance class in the front courtyard. Some were in sweats and others in spandex, and while they didn’t seem to be particularly well choreographed, they all looked like they were having a good time.

“Geriatric Jazzercise,” a familiar male voice said from behind her.

Cassie choked on a laugh as she turned to Jerry. “That’s not really what they call it?”

He held up a hand as if taking an oath. “It really is.”

“Well, exercise is important at any age,” she acknowledged. “Unfortunately, I can’t imagine Irene participating in something like this.”

“Can’t you?” he asked, his eyes twinkling. “Check out the woman in the striped purple top.”

Cassie looked more closely at the group, her eyes widening when they zeroed in on and finally recognized the former librarian. “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted.

“You could say you’ll have a cup of coffee with me,” Jerry told her. “As I was told, in clear and unequivocal terms, that the jazzercise class is for women only.”

“I’d be happy to have coffee with you,” Cassie said, falling into step beside Jerry as he headed back toward the building.

“What’s that you’ve got there?” he asked, indicating the hardback in her hand. “A new book for Irene?”

She nodded. “One of the advantages of being head librarian—I get dibs on the new releases when they come in.”

“My name’s on the waiting list for that one,” he admitted.

“Irene’s a fast reader—maybe she’ll let you borrow it when she’s done.”

“I’m a fast reader, too,” he told her. “Maybe I could give it to Irene when I’m done.”

“That would work,” she agreed.

Peggy’s Bakery and Coffee Shop, on the ground floor of the residence, offered a variety of hot and cold beverages and baked goods, and the air was permeated with the mouthwatering scents of coffee and chocolate.

“What will you have?” Jerry asked her.

Cassie perused the menu, pleased to note that they had her favorite. “A vanilla latte, please.”

“And I’ll have a regular decaf,” Jerry said.

“Can I interest you in a couple of triple chocolate brownies still warm from the oven?” Peggy asked.

“One for sure,” Jerry immediately responded, before glancing at Cassie in a silent question.

“Brownies are my weakness,” she admitted.

“Make it two,” he said.

“You go ahead and grab a seat,” Peggy said. “I’ll bring everything out to you.”

“Can we sit outside?” Cassie asked.

“Anywhere you like,” the other woman assured them.

They sat on opposite sides of a small round table, beneath a green-and-white-striped awning. Peggy delivered their coffee and brownies only a few minutes later.

Jerry poured two packets of sugar into his coffee, stirred. “The first time I saw you here, visiting Irene, I thought you must be her granddaughter. Then I found out that she never married, never had any children.”

“No, she didn’t,” Cassie confirmed.

“So what is your relationship?” he wondered. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind,” she told him. “And although our relationship has changed a lot over the years, Irene has always played an important part in my life—from librarian to confidante, surrogate mother, mentor and friend.”

“You’ve known her a long time then?”

“Since I was in fourth grade.”

“I’ve known her a long time, too,” Jerry said. “We grew up across the street from one another in the west end, went to school together, dated for a while when we were in high school. I’m sure both my parents and hers thought we would marry someday.” He cut off a piece of brownie with his fork. “In fact, I was planning to propose to her at Christmas, the year after we graduated.”

“What happened?”

He chewed on the brownie for a long minute, his eyes focused on something—or maybe some time—in the distance. “I met someone else that summer and fell head over heels in love.” He shifted his attention back to Cassie, his gaze almost apologetic. “I’d fallen in love with Irene slowly, over a lot of years. And then Faith walked into my life and the emotions hit me like a ton of bricks. Everything with her was new and intense and exciting.”

“And you married her instead,” Cassie guessed.

He nodded. “She was the love of my life and I’m grateful for the almost fifty years we had together.”

“And now you’ve come full circle,” she noted.

“Do you disapprove of my friendship with Irene?”

“Of course not,” she denied. “But I don’t want to see her get hurt again.”

“Neither do I,” he told her.

She considered his response as she nibbled on her own brownie, savoring the rich chocolate flavor.

“Have you ever been in love, Cassie?”

“I was engaged once.”

“Which isn’t necessarily the same thing,” he pointed out.

“I haven’t had much luck in the love department,” she acknowledged.

“It only takes once,” he told her. “You only need one forever-after love to change your whole life.”

She sipped her coffee. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“It’s not about the mind,” Jerry admonished. “It’s about the heart. You have to keep an open heart.”

Cassie thought about Jerry’s advice for a long time after she’d said goodbye to him and left Serenity Gardens. A week later, his words continued to echo in the back of her mind.

She headed to the library much earlier than usual, eager to get started on the setup for the Book & Bake Sale. The forecast was for partly sunny skies with a 25 percent chance of precipitation, but that was not until late afternoon. Cassie hoped they would be sold out and packed up before then.

The event was scheduled to start at 8:00 a.m. but she was on-site by six thirty to meet with a group of volunteers from the high school to set up the tents and the tables. There were boxes and boxes in the library basement—old books that had been taken out of circulation and donations from the community.

Over the past several weeks, Tanya and a couple of her friends from the high school had sorted through the donations, grouping the books into genres. Some of the books were horribly outdated—such as Understanding Windows 2000—but she decided to put them out on display anyway, because local crafters often picked up old books to create new things. In addition to the books, there were board games and toys and DVDs.

The student volunteers were almost finished setting up the tents when Braden showed up just after seven. It was the first time she’d seen him since she’d abruptly ended their conversation the previous Saturday morning—though she’d heard from Megan that he’d checked out some books when she was on her lunch break a few days earlier—and she wasn’t sure what to make of his presence here now.

“The sale doesn’t start until eight,” she told him.

“I know, but I thought you might be able to use an extra hand with set up.”

“We can always use extra hands,” she admitted.

“So put me to work,” he suggested.

“Where’s Saige?” she asked.

“Having pancakes at my parents’ house.”

“Lucky girl.”

He smiled. “My mom’s going to bring her by later.”

“Okay,” she said. “Most of the tents have been set up, Tanya and Chloe know how to arrange the tables, which Cade and Jake are bringing out, so why don’t you help Ethan and Tyler haul boxes up from the basement?”

“I can do that,” he confirmed.

She led him down to the basement and introduced him to the other helpers, then went back outside to help Brooke arrange the goodies on the bake table. With so many volunteers from the high school—most of them students who were regulars at Soc & Study—there wasn’t a lot for her to do, and she found herself spending an inordinate amount of time watching Braden and pretending that she wasn’t.

“Is there somewhere else you’re supposed to be?” he asked, when he caught her glancing at her watch for about the tenth time.

“Serenity Gardens in half an hour.”

“Aren’t you about fifty years too early for Serenity Gardens?”

“So maybe we were talking about the same Miss Houlahan,” he mused.

“She’s been retired for several years, but she never misses any of our fund-raising events.”

“I didn’t know she was still alive,” he admitted. “She seemed about a hundred years old when I was a kid.”

“I’m seventy-one,” a sharp voice said from behind him. “And not ready for the grave yet.”

Braden visibly winced before turning around. “Miss Houlahan—how lovely to see you again.”

Behind square wire-rimmed glasses, the old woman’s pale blue eyes narrowed. “You’re just as cheeky now as you were when you were a boy, Braden Garrett.”

Cassie seemed as surprised as he was that the former librarian had remembered him well enough to be able to distinguish him from his brothers and male cousins—all of whom bore a striking resemblance to one another.

“I was planning to pick you up,” Cassie interjected.

“Jerry decided he wanted to come and get some books, and it didn’t make sense to drag you away if he was heading in this direction,” Miss Houlahan said.

“Where is Mr. Riordan?”

“He dropped me off in front, then went to park the car.”

“Well, we’re not quite finished setting up, but you’re welcome to wander around and browse through the books we’ve got on display.”

“I’m not here to shop, I’m here to work,” Irene said abruptly.

Cassie nodded, unfazed by the woman’s brusque demeanor. “Was there any particular section you wanted to work in?” she asked solicitously.

“Put me near history,” the former librarian suggested. “Most people assume old people are experts on anything old.”

“We’ve got history set up—” Cassie glanced at the tables queued along the sideway “—four tables over, just this side of the card shop. Give me a second to finish this display and I’ll show you.”

“I’ve got a box of history books right here,” Braden said. “I can show her.”

“It’s ‘Miss Houlahan’ not ‘her,’” Irene corrected him. “And I know where the card shop is.”

“I’m heading in that direction anyway, Miss Houlahan,” he told her.

But she’d already turned and started to walk away, her steps slow and methodical, her right hand gripping the handle of a nondescript black cane. Braden fell into step beside her, the box propped on his shoulder so that he had a hand free in case Miss Houlahan stumbled.

She didn’t say two words to him as they made their way down the sidewalk. Not that they were going very far—the history/political science table wasn’t more than thirty feet from the library’s main doors—and not that he expected her to entertain him with chatter, but the silence was somehow not just uncomfortable but somehow disapproving. Or maybe he was projecting his childhood memories onto the moment.

When they reached the table, he eased the box from his shoulder and dropped it on the ground, perhaps a little more loudly than was necessary, and got a perverse sense of pleasure when she jolted at the noise, then glared at him. As he busied himself unpacking the books, he reminded himself that he was no longer a child easily intimidated but a CEO more accustomed to intimidating other people.

He’d just finished unpacking when he heard the sweetest sound in the world: “Da-da!”

Tucking the now-empty box under the table, he turned just in time to catch Saige as she launched herself into his arms. “There’s my favorite girl,” he said, giving her a light squeeze.

“Choo-choo, Da-da! Choo-choo!” she implored.

“Later,” he promised.

Unhappy with his response, she turned her attention to her grandmother, who was following closely behind her. “Choo-choo, Ga-ma!”

“We can go find the trains in a minute,” Ellen told her, before greeting Irene Houlahan.

While his mother was chatting with the old librarian, Braden slipped away to get a chair for Miss Houlahan. By the time he got back, his mother and Saige were gone again.

Miss Houlahan thanked him, somewhat stiffly, for the chair before she said, “Your daughter doesn’t look much like you.”

He smiled at her blunt statement of the obvious fact that so many other people tried to tiptoe around. “Her paternal grandmother was Japanese.”

“You adopted her then?” she guessed.

He nodded.

“Adoption is a wonderful way to match up parents who want a child with a child who needs a family,” she noted.

He appreciated not just the sentiment but her word choice. He didn’t want to count the number of times that someone had referred to children placed for adoption as “unwanted,” because that description couldn’t be further from the truth. Perhaps untimely in the lives of the women who birthed them, those babies were desperately wanted by their adoptive parents. And in the case of his own daughter, he knew that Lindsay had wanted her child but, even more, she’d wanted a better life for Saige than she’d felt she would be able to give her.