Longing for Home

Long lashes or not, Alex Porter was arrogant. Cold. Condescending.

And Kate knew exactly what had brought him to the Grapevine. He wanted to see for himself what Mirror Lake’s greasy spoon had to offer.

She searched her memory for an appropriate Scripture. One that would give her the self-control to pour the coffee into Alex’s coffee cup, not over the top of his head.

Lord, I know there has to be one. Or one hundred. But I’m coming up empty at the moment. Sorry.

Kate set his coffee down and whipped the pen out of her apron pocket. Smile carefully balanced in place. “What can I get for you?”

Alex closed the menu with a decisive snap, as if there were nothing on the list of options that remotely tempted him. “I’ll just have the special.”

“Sure. Coming right up.” Given the fact that she’d unlocked the door only moments before Alex made his appearance, Kate wasn’t quite sure what the special of the day was.

Grady O’Rourke, the former military cook her father had hired when Kate was in first grade, took charge of the daily menu changes. When Kate had taken over the café, she and Grady had amicably divided the kitchen duties. Grady claimed the griddle, Kate the stove.

She ducked around the counter. “I need a special, Grady.”

“You got it.” The man’s off-key whistle accompanied the sizzle of butter in the cast-iron skillet.

Kate began to fill the dessert case with slices of the pies she’d made the night before, all too aware that a pair of jade-green eyes tracked her every movement.

“Order up, katydid,” Grady bellowed.

Kate winced, hoping Alex hadn’t heard the cook call her by the affectionate nickname he’d bestowed on her when she was six years old.

“Thanks.” Kate grabbed the steaming plate on the pass-through and felt the blood drain from her face. “Grady?” The word came out in a squeak.

“Problem?”

“No…no problem.” If a person didn’t count the six-foot-tall, two-hundred-pound problem sitting at a booth in the back. “I don’t think you’ve made this before.”

“Nope.” A smile bisected the grizzled face. “But mark my words. It’ll be a big hit.”

“I’m sure it will,” Kate said faintly.

Most days, Grady’s “special” came from a list of what he liked to call his “tried and trues.” Steak and potatoes. Blueberry pancakes. Ham and cheese omelets.

Why, oh why, couldn’t this have been one of those days?

Show no fear. Kate gave herself an internal pep talk as she breezed back to Alex’s booth. “Here you go. Enjoy!”

His gaze dropped to the plate and bounced back up again. “What is this?”

“The special.” Kate wished it hadn’t come out sounding like a question.

Alex arched a brow.

In retaliation, Kate lifted her chin. “It’s…a delicious blend of meat and potatoes with a hint of spice.”

“I see,” Alex said softly. “And does this delicious blend of meat and potatoes happen to have a name?”

Yes, it did. And he was going to make her say it.

“It’s…hash.” Kate pushed the word through gritted teeth.

The perfectly sculpted lips—Kate felt a trickle of horror that she noticed they were perfectly sculpted—curled at the edges.

“That’s what I thought…katydid.”

Organized chaos.

It was the only description that Alex could come up with to describe what he was seeing. Although it was possible that the word organized was too generous.

Total chaos would probably be more accurate.

He got dizzy just watching Kate Nichols in motion.

The woman fairly crackled with energy, making him wonder if the red curls poking out from beneath the floral bandana she wore doubled as some kind of power source.

In the space of half an hour, Kate had greeted each customer who came through the door by name. Paused to hug the blond, waiflike teenager who’d joined forces with her during the breakfast rush as if they were long-lost sisters. She’d even plucked a cranky toddler out of a portable highchair and balanced him on one slender hip while she rang up receipts so his weary young parents had an opportunity to finish their breakfast in peace.

Alex’s blood pressure spiked when Kate joined a group of men at their table to referee a lively discussion about the number of potholes on Oak Street.

Kate’s relaxed posture and easy laughter made him grit his teeth.

Didn’t she realize how dangerous it was to get that close to people? To let them get that close to you?

His parents had learned a lesson on setting boundaries the hard way. Abby had been six years old when a disgruntled hotel employee abducted her. The police had found her a few days later, frightened but otherwise unharmed. The family physician who’d examined Abby had reassured them that her memory of the ordeal would fade in time.

Alex, who’d been a freshman in high school, hadn’t been as lucky.

The three days Abby went missing remained etched in his mind. So had the days that followed her safe return. Their parents enrolled them in private school. His and Abby’s lives became governed by a set of rules that formed a barrier around them as impenetrable as the walls surrounding the Porter estate.

It was one of the reasons Alex had become so protective of his sister over the years. They’d lost their parents—he wasn’t about to lose the only remaining member of his family.

Kate might not realize it, but she was asking for trouble. Her smile was too friendly. Too engaging…

“Would you like a refill?”

Alex looked up and silently amended his opinion. Kate’s smile was engaging unless it was directed at him. Then it cooled to the temperature of day-old coffee. But he hadn’t come to Mirror Lake to make friends—he’d come walk his baby sister down the aisle. And to make sure there were no unexpected bumps along the way. From what he’d witnessed so far, putting Kate Nichols in charge of something as important as Abby’s wedding reception would guarantee more bumps than Oak Street had potholes.

“No thanks.”

“You’re ready for the bill?”

“Not yet.” With two simple words, Alex managed to extinguish the hopeful look in those clover-green eyes.

“All right.” He could almost see her silently counting to five…no, ten. For some reason, Alex found a perverse satisfaction in knowing he got under her skin, too.

“Kate?” The teenage waitress sidled up. “Mr. Dinsman ordered the biscuits and gravy,” she whispered.

“Absolutely not, Missy.” Kate shook her head, setting the corkscrew curls into motion. “I know what his cholesterol is. The only thing on the menu for Mr. Dinsman is a bowl of oatmeal.”

The waitress chewed on her lower lip. “He said that if you make him eat oatmeal, he won’t leave a tip.”

“Well, here’s a tip for him,” Kate said tartly. “If he wants to clog his arteries, he should stay home and make his own breakfast.”

Missy glanced at the portly man who sat a few tables away, glowering in their direction. “Do I have to tell him that?”

“No, sprinkle some fresh blueberries on the oatmeal and tell him there’s no charge.” Kate winked at her. “That’ll make the fiber go down easier.”

“Okay.” Missy grinned before darting away.

Alex had to ask. He just had to. “You know a customer’s cholesterol level?”

“It’s a small town—and a very small café.” Kate sounded proud of the fact rather than apologetic.

“Kate!” A man with a flowing white beard and brows that resembled an unclipped hedge waved a folder stuffed full of papers at her. “When you have a minute, can you look over the minutes from the last city council meeting?”

Kate didn’t seem at all surprised by the request. “I’ll be right there, Mayor Dodd.”

“You should hire more help.” Alex had to raise his voice a notch to make himself heard over the steady hum of conversation.

The watercolor pink lips compressed. “I appreciate your concern—” judging from her tone, Alex doubted that was true “—but I do all right.”

“Really?” He watched a gray-haired man shuffle around the cash register and select a tall parfait glass from the shelf. “Maybe if you had more help, your customers wouldn’t be forced to sneak behind the counter to make their own food.”

Kate followed the direction of his gaze and Alex heard a soft but audible chirp of dismay.

“Excuse me.” She shot away, the tails of her canvas apron streaming behind her like kite ribbons.

A trio of women trundled past Alex in a cloud of perfume, the scents clashing like the instruments in an amateur marching band. They crowded around into the booth next to his and began to pull out their knitting.

Knitting.

The dining area reminded him of a noisy family gathering. A limp copy of the local newspaper passed from table to table as if following some kind of prearranged system. Children hung over the backs of the booths and people roamed around the room, chatting or blatantly eavesdropping on the conversations going on around them.

He couldn’t help but compare the Grapevine to the restaurants in his hotels. Soft background music. A well-trained wait staff who’d memorized the selections on the menu but remained blissfully unaware of a customer’s cholesterol level. High-backed leather booths that provided peace, quiet and…

“Good morning.” Abby slipped into a chair across from him.

Anonymity.

“How did you find me?”

His sister didn’t look at all intimidated by his scowl. “Someone called me and said you were here, scaring the customers.”

Alex had a hunch he knew who’d called. But when had she found the time between taking orders, babysitting crabby toddlers and refereeing that lively debate over who was responsible for repairing the potholes on Oak Street?

“I’m not scaring anyone. I’m having breakfast.”

“Yes.” Abby cleared her throat. “That’s why it’s a little strange that you ended up here, given the fact that your sister runs a bed-and-breakfast.”

“I got into town a little early—” Four days, he thought he heard Abby say under her breath. “And I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Since when?”

Alex ignored that as he got a bead on Kate again. Instead of shooing the elderly man back to his table, she had retreated to the kitchen, leaving him alone with the blender. An accident—and a lawsuit—waiting to happen.

“Come on. I’m taking you back to the inn.” Abby stood up. “And leave Kate a big tip. I’m sure she earned it.”

“I already did. I told her that she needed to hire more help.” Alex left the money he owed on the table and rose to his feet.

“Really?” Abby shook her head. “I’m surprised you lived to tell about it.”

Alex remembered the spark of emerald fire in Kate’s eyes and clamped down on a smile. “There were witnesses.”

“Leave Kate alone,” his sister commanded. “She doesn’t need your advice. She took over the café when she was twenty years old. Most people that age are still trying to figure out what to do with their lives.”

“She tries to be in three different places at once.” He’d almost suffered an attack of vertigo just watching her.

“Kate has everything under control.” Abby tucked her arm through his and herded him out the door with impressive speed. “You of all people should appreciate the quality.”

He ignored that, too. “Under control? If that were true, her customers wouldn’t have to make their own food.”

Abby frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“The man behind the counter. I saw him making a milkshake.”

Understanding dawned in Abby’s eyes.

“It was probably Arthur Lundy,” she explained. “His wife, Marsha, died last year and now he’s in the early stages of Alzheimer’s. According to Kate, they grew up in Mirror Lake. He proposed to Marsha right there at the soda fountain while they shared a milkshake.

“Some days Mr. Lundy comes into the café and he doesn’t seem to remember that she’s gone. He’ll go behind the counter to make a milkshake and ask for two straws. Kate doesn’t mind.”

His sister’s tone suggested that he shouldn’t, either.

“This is a business, not a home,” Alex said, capping off some unidentifiable emotion that bubbled to the surface of his conscience. “It’s a mistake to let the customers do as they please. She’s responsible if one of them gets hurt.”

“Kate looks at people like Mr. Lundy as more than just a customer.”

Alex’s lips twisted.

“That’s mistake number two.”

Chapter Three

Mission accomplished.

With a satisfied smile, Kate tacked down the last string of white lights along the roofline of the gazebo. When Quinn and Abby returned from their final premarital counseling session with Matthew Wilde, the pastor at Church of the Pines, they would discover the garden area transformed into a wonderland of fragrant blooms and twinkling lights.

She scooted away from the edge of the roof, careful not to look at the ten-foot drop to the flagstone patio below. Kate didn’t particularly care for heights but decorating for the reception was a labor of love for her friends. And because stringing lights around the gazebo had been her idea to begin with, she didn’t think it was fair to ask someone else to put them up.

Hammer tucked under her arm, Kate swung a foot onto the top rung of the ladder. A sudden commotion had her twisting around just in time to see Mulligan and Lady, Quinn and Abby’s dogs, race around the corner of the lodge. Both animals were linked together by the long rope clamped between their jaws. And they were heading in her direction.

Kate swiftly calculated destination, speed and distance and threw herself back onto the roof. A split second later, Lady ducked under the ladder while Mulligan veered to the right. The rope went through the middle. It was Kate’s foot, however, that connected with the top of the ladder, which teetered back and forth before it hit the ground with an impressive crash.

Leaving her stranded.

Kate groaned. “Now what am I supposed to do?” she called down.

The dogs, who circled back to survey the damage, looked at each other. Kate was pretty sure she saw them shrug.

She rose cautiously to her feet and looked around. There was no sign of Abby’s guests taking a leisurely walk by the lake. Kate checked the pockets of her cargo shorts before remembering that she’d left her cell phone in a safe place—on the wicker table in the gazebo.

Maybe she could jump. It didn’t look that far down.

She peeked over the edge and swallowed hard.

It was that far down.

There was only one thing to do. Pray for a quick rescue by a good Samaritan—or that Abby and Quinn would return sooner than expected.

“Either one, Lord,” she murmured. “I’m flexible.”

At least she didn’t have to worry about Alex discovering her in this predicament. Abby had mentioned that her brother had made plans to meet with Jeff Gaines, a local developer and kindred millionaire, and wouldn’t be back until later that night.

Another twenty minutes crawled by. The setting sun melted into the trees, but Kate couldn’t even appreciate the way it turned the lake to liquid gold. She was too busy fending off the swarm of mosquitoes that had found an easy target.

Just when Kate was contemplating how soft a landing the bed of hydrangeas would provide, Lady launched to her feet and shot down the path, releasing a chain of sharp little barks. A canine SOS.

Kate’s relief turned to dismay when she heard the low rumble of a masculine voice. A familiar masculine voice.

She wondered if it was too late to add an addendum to her earlier prayer. Because Alex Porter was the last person she wanted to come to her rescue.

Out of the corner of his eye, Alex saw two furry missiles hurtling toward him. One was Mulligan, the walking carpet that Abby insisted on calling a dog; the other a buff-colored cocker spaniel he assumed belonged to Quinn. Both animals performed figure eights around his feet, voices raised in a duet that threatened to pierce his eardrums.

Alex winced. “That’s enough, you two. Time to go inside. You’re disturbing the peace.” More specifically, his peace.

As he bent down to take hold of Lady’s collar, the dog danced out of reach and trotted up the path. Every few feet she would stop, glance over her shoulder and bark. Between each little yip, Mulligan interjected a mournful howl of his own.

“Quiet!”

In the split second of silence that followed Alex’s command, he thought he heard something that sounded suspiciously like a…groan.

Frowning, Alex strode down the narrow flagstone path that wove through the gardens and opened into a spacious patio area. There was no one there. But next to the old-fashioned gazebo, he spotted a ladder lying on its side and a rope tangled around one of the legs.

“I get it.” Alex shook his head. “Okay, now that we’ve returned to the scene of the crime, which one of you knocked it over?”

Mulligan barked twice. And looked up.

Before he realized what he was doing, Alex did, too.

He blinked, wondering if the evening shadows were playing tricks on him. But no…it was her. The very woman who’d been plaguing his thoughts for the past twenty-four hours was perched on the roof of the gazebo.

“What,” Alex said, “are you doing up there?”

“Waiting for a helicopter,” Kate said promptly.

“Landing might be a bit of a challenge.” A smile rustled at the corner of Alex’s lips as he went to pick up the ladder. “In the meantime, would you like some help?”

Absolute silence greeted the question.

Alex realized that Kate was actually thinking about it. Instead of being offended, he was overcome with a sudden urge to laugh.

“All right.” She stood up and inched her way over to the edge of the roof while Alex repositioned the ladder next to the gazebo. As Kate scampered down, he reached out and took hold of her arm in an attempt to steady her. The contact with her bare skin created a jolt of awareness that made Alex feel as if he’d been branded.

He released her immediately and Kate stumbled back. “Thank you,” she muttered.

Noticing the flush on her cheeks, Alex frowned. “How long were you up there?”

“Thirteen.”

“Minutes?”

“No. Mosquito bites.” Kate scratched behind her ear and sighed. “Make that fourteen.”

Alex tamped down another smile. “Now are you going to tell me what you were doing up there?”

“I’ll show you instead.” Kate disappeared into the gazebo and dozens of white lights illuminated the entire structure. She popped back up in the doorway a moment later. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re going to attract every flying insect for a five-mile radius.”

Kate didn’t appear at all fazed by his observation. “I already thought of that. There will be citronella candles strategically placed around the garden during the reception.”

“The reception is going to be here?”

Her eyes widened. “Didn’t Abby mention that?”

“No, but that doesn’t surprise me.” Alex had offered to help with the planning on several occasions, but Abby had resisted all his suggestions. Frustrated, he’d asked if there was anything he would be allowed to do. That’s when his sister had finally given him a task.

You can give me away.

Alex felt his throat tighten at the memory.

It was the one thing he wasn’t sure he would be able to do when the time came.

As the silence stretched between them, Kate released a slow breath.

She hadn’t expected applause but something other than a scowl would have been nice. “You don’t approve of an outdoor reception?” she guessed.

“It’s not that I don’t approve,” Alex said, his voice tight with something that sounded a lot like disapproval.

“Then what is it?”

Alex appeared taken aback by the question. Maybe because, Kate acknowledged ruefully, he wasn’t used to being questioned!

“This wedding wasn’t the kind that I envisioned for Abby,” he said after a moment. “I thought every woman wanted a fairy-tale wedding. The big puffy dress. Dozens of roses—”

“A horse-drawn carriage. String quartet,” Kate murmured.

Alex’s eyebrows shot up and she cringed. Finishing people’s sentences was one of her worst habits! And Kate could only hope Alex wouldn’t realize that what she’d described was her dream wedding, not Abby’s.

“Some women dream of all that,” she said quickly. “But Abby likes things simple, you know.”

“I’ll have to take your word for that,” Alex said. A shadow passed across his face, so fleeting that Kate wondered if she’d imagined it. “I practically raised her, but she’s changed since she moved to Mirror Lake.”

The changes in her friend had more to do with her relationship with God than a change of scenery; but Kate wasn’t sure Alex would understand. According to Abby, he remained openly skeptical about her faith.

“I caught her spying on a wedding at one of the hotels when she was about fifteen,” Alex said, his voice so low that it was almost as if he were speaking to himself. “It was the event of the summer. Ice sculptures. Fresh flowers flown in from Hawaii. I saw the look on Abby’s face when the bride and groom came in and I decided that when she got married, even though our parents couldn’t be there to make things perfect for her, I could.”

As Kate listened, it occurred to her that she hadn’t thought about the situation from Alex’s point of view until now. Abby had been in her teens when their parents died. Alex wasn’t simply an older brother smiling from the sidelines as he watched his sister get married. It was more complicated than that.

I practically raised her.

“The wedding will be special for Abby,” Kate ventured. “Her close friends and family will be there. You’ll walk her down the aisle where Quinn will be waiting. Those are the things that matter the most to her.”

“It just seems like there should be…more,” Alex said. “It should be perfect.”

“This is Abby’s more—and that means it’s perfect,” Kate said.

Alex stared at her and the look in his eyes made Kate catch her breath. Because this Alex Porter, the one who appeared…uncertain…was infinitely more dangerous than the millionaire CEO who insisted on having his own way.

He opened his mouth to say something but didn’t get the opportunity because the approach of a car drew the dogs’ attention. Lady took off down the stone path while Mulligan chose a shortcut through the bushes.

“It sounds like they’re back.” Kate followed Lady, aware that Alex was right behind her.

Quinn had parked the car and was opening the passenger door for Abby when they stepped into the driveway. The moment her friend got out, Kate could tell that something was wrong. Alex saw it, too.

“Abby?” His brows dipped together in a frown. “What happened?”

In a silent appeal, Abby looked at her fiancé. Quinn clasped her hand, his expression grim. “We should talk inside.”

As if by silent agreement, everyone trooped inside and headed straight for the kitchen. Abby went over to the sink and began to fill the teakettle with water. When she turned back again, Kate didn’t miss the glaze of unshed tears in her friend’s eyes.

“Jessica called when Quinn and I were on our way here,” Abby began. “She had an appointment with her OB doctor this afternoon and he found symptoms of a condition called preeclampsia. To be safe, he put her on complete bed rest for the next few months.”

“The next few months?” Kate echoed. “But that means she and Tony won’t be able to attend the wedding on Saturday!”

Abby leaned against Quinn and his arms immediately came around her, bracketing her slender frame. “I’m afraid not.”

“Oh, Abby.” Kate’s heart wrenched at the thought of the couple missing out on such a special day. Jessica and Tony Benson had been instrumental in leading Abby to the Lord and she counted them among her closest friends. “I know how important it was to have them here.”