Second To None. Muriel Jensen
She’d also counseled at a teen center.
He looked at Tate in concern. “Don’t you think she moves around a lot? She’s been all over the place. She’s taught at five schools and she’s only—what?—” he checked her birth date and calculated “—thirty? Either she moved every other year, or she was asked to leave—or was being chased.”
Tate shook his head, grinning in a way that made Mike suspicious. “She wasn’t asked to leave, she was transferred.”
“Schools don’t transfer teachers around.”
“They do if they’re nuns.”
Mike stared at him, the shock of his brother’s announcement clashing in his mind with the memory of Veronica Callahan lying on top of him, all soft and fragrant. He remembered for a moment, then refocused.
“A nun,” he said flatly. “A nun came flying at me off the banister.”
“An ex-nun,” Tate corrected. “Now she’s just a woman.”
Kids and a nun—a woman. Great. His life was right on track—backward.
“I’m sure you’ll like her once you get over this bad start. From what Colette says, she seems very genuine and not at all sanctimonious.”
Mike stood to leave. “I guess we’ll see.”
Tate got to his feet and put an arm around Mike’s shoulders. “You have a suit for my wedding?”
“No. I don’t think I’ve even worn one since Mom’s and Dad’s funeral, and you lent me that one.”
“I can lend you one again.”
Mike headed for the stairs. Tate followed. “No, I should buy one. There are a couple of events coming up that call for something other than my jeans and boots—You got the ring?”
“Yeah. We’re all set.”
They stopped at the top of the stairs. It occurred to Mike that when they’d started this venture, he and his brothers had been without women in their lives. Tate’s ex had remarried a diplomat and taken his daughters to Paris to live, and Shea had clearly left his heart in San Francisco with a woman he’d refused to discuss.
Tate’s first marriage had changed their relationship, of course, but they hadn’t actually been as close then as they were now. They’d had big plans in their youth, and a belief in their invincibility. But they’d since lost their parents in an accident, and individual calamities had befallen each of them.
Then their uncle Jack had been legally declared dead in January after an absence of seven years, leaving the winery and all its properties to be shared equally among Tate, Mike and Shea. Jack’s disappearance remained a mystery, though Mike and his brothers were making an effort to find answers. In the meantime, bringing the winery back to life was teaching them each other’s strenghts and weaknesses and deepening their relationships.
No bond, Mike thought, was quite as strong as the one forged by shared grief and adversity. It made the gift of a brother or a friend invaluable.
He clapped Tate on the shoulder. “I wish you happiness. It’s too bad your girls can’t come.”
Tate nodded. “We talked it over, and they decided they’d rather be here for Christmas. Susan and Sarah are taking special language classes this summer, and that’s important if they’re going to be living in France.”
“But you’re still going to have two kids with you on your honeymoon. You’re sure about that?”
“Yeah.” Megan and Katie, Colette’s two daughters, were seven and eight. “They’re pretty excited about getting a father. I’d hate for my first official act as their dad to be to leave them behind to take off with their mother. You guys still okay with Armand taking over my old room when we come back from Banff?”
“Of course. Shea and I both like Armand.”
“Good. I didn’t want him to move, but he insisted.”
“Don’t worry about him. He’ll be fine with us. Anything else?”
“Yeah.” Tate grew serious. “You willing to live with the day care thing?”
No, he wasn’t. It was going to prey on his mind until the children showed up, and then would probably cause him sleepless nights. But Tate had given up so much to get the winery going—and not just as an investment in his own future, but in Mike’s and Shea’s as well. Right now Mike didn’t want Tate to worry about anything.
“Sure. I’ll adjust. And I should probably start by apologizing to Sister Mary Trouble.”
“I really think this is a good idea.”
“Sure.” Mike said the word with convincing sincerity as he started down the stairs. But in his heart, he knew there wasn’t a chance of that happening. Veronica Callahan represented the two things he’d sworn he’d never be involved with again: women and children.
CHAPTER TWO
VERONICA BIT INTO a buttery cream cheese pastry and moaned her approval.
Colette put down her coffee cup and indicated the few crumbs on her paper plate. “I know. Isn’t it wonderful? I’ve probably gained ten pounds since Shea started testing recipes for the tasting room and the restaurant.”
Veronica chewed and swallowed, thinking that no one could look better at 7:00 a.m. than Colette did—and there was no evidence of an extra ten pounds on her. She had bright, curly red hair that framed a finefeatured face and lively gray eyes. Her warmth had appealed to Veronica the moment they’d first met, and had gone a long way toward diminishing her loneliness. During their several lunches in Portland, a friendship had been born.
“You must burn it all off working on the vineyard. Is Shea going to cook for the B-and-B, too?”
“No, Rachel’s going to do that. Shea’s swamped with last-minute preparations. The restaurant opens when Tate and I—and the girls—get back from our honeymoon.”
“There’s so much happening here.”
Colette smiled thoughtfully. “When Tate and his brothers first inherited the winery, I knew everything was going to be different. The Delancey brothers have so much energy and enthusiasm, and I expected to hate seeing things changed and tourists swarming the place.” Veronica could sense the moment when Colette’s thoughts began to focus on Tate, because she heaved a deep sigh that was all contentment and anticipation. “But now I feel as though my life’s been recharged. As though...” She paused, presumably to grope for words, then apparently decided the thought was too big for them. She smiled at Veronica. “Anyway, it’s wonderful here. I know you’ll be happy. And don’t worry about Mike. He’s really a wonderful man.”
Veronica wasn’t so sure about that. “I understand why he was suspicious of me,” she said, reaching for her coffee. “But I hope he’s not going to act that way around the kids.”
“He’s good with children,” Colette assured her. “My girls love him. I think his reluctance to have a day care center here has something to do with his days as a cop.”
Veronica waited, interested.
Colette looked grim. “He was a hostage negotiator. I don’t know all the details, but this druggie killed his wife and children while Mike was trying to talk him out of it. Mike knows it wasn’t his fault, but he still blames himself.”
Veronica could only imagine the horror of that experience. Watching children suffer when you couldn’t do anything to help them must be unbearable. “How awful,” she said.
“Yeah.” Colette pushed away from the table. “He’s trying hard to move forward, but it’s got to be difficult Come on. Let’s go look at the barn again.”
THE