Family Of His Own. Catherine Lanigan
detective that he was. He stood to shake Scott’s hand, then Scott bent down and kissed Cate Sullivan’s cheek before going around the table to hug Sarah. The glimmering, moon-glow lighting Isabelle enhanced Scott’s good looks. Or was she seeing Scott in a new light tonight?
Isabelle had a dozen chores to finish before midnight. There were party favors, hats, noisemakers and streamers to distribute. The servers were busily placing clean champagne glasses at everyone’s place. The soloist who would sing “Auld Lang Syne” had not yet arrived. Edgar always gave the countdown, but as she wended through the dining room, making sure guests were happy, she didn’t see him anywhere.
At midnight, her duties would be over. The kitchen crew and extra bus boys she’d hired would handle the cleanup. Then she would have Scott all to herself and Isabelle planned to dance with him until the band’s contract was up at one in the morning. Admittedly, she felt terrible about the way she’d treated Scott over these past weeks—months, really. Immersed in her ongoing quest to get her work noticed, she’d lost sight of what a good friend he was. He’d always been fun to flirt with and she’d forgotten how much his smile lifted her spirits. Overlooking Scott had become a habit, and she was ashamed of it. She owed him thanks for so much.
This old year was ticking away and Isabelle wanted her regrets where Scott was concerned to die with it. In the new year, she would be more conscientious toward him. She was grateful that he’d been patient with her selfishness. She intended to scrape her egocentric attitudes off her palette. Scott deserved better from her.
The folds of her silver gown eddied around her silver, open-toed, peau de soie heels as she breezed up to his table. She greeted Sarah and Cate again with a little wave. Scott was in deep discussion with Trent.
She placed her hand on his shoulder.
He reached up to touch it, but he didn’t take his focus from Trent, who was now whispering.
“Scott?” Isabelle said.
He turned his face to her.
Why was his expression so disturbed? Lines of worry settled around his eyes. She knew that look and she didn’t like it. “Is everything okay? It’s not your mother again, is it?”
“No.” He cleared his throat. “No. Mom is fine. What’s up?”
She leaned closer and smiled. “I just wanted to say that at midnight, Scott, you’re all mine.”
He kissed her palm and smiled. “Ditto.”
* * *
SCOTT WAITED UNTIL Isabelle was out of sight and earshot before he said to Trent, “Why tonight?”
“Captain Williams has given my team the nod. We want to catch Ellis in the act. Remember the ordinance plant?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“He’s set up a lab out there. We found it yesterday. I didn’t tell you because we were waiting on confirmation about an apartment where we thought he was living. I just got the word.”
“Should I wait till the morning? I don’t want to get in the way,” Scott said, though he was already bursting with anticipation of another on-the-scenes story.
“I trust you to hang back until I give you the signal. You can stay in your car, take video and photos. And stay low. Then you come in. And trust me, the chief knows you’re involved.”
Scott nodded. He knew it was his job to be objective when covering a story. At the same time, he admired men and women in uniform who made sacrifices, risked their lives to protect others. They made the world a better place to live. And what had Scott done? He’d reported it. Written a few sentences about some brave men who should have been commemorated in bronze.
Suddenly, he felt ashamed and sharply disappointed in his life lately.
Only he could make the kind of changes he needed to put himself back together and find that feeling of worthiness again.
Scott remembered the prickles of commitment and even flames of ambition spur him when he’d written the article about the bust. He’d lost track of time. He’d investigated, interviewed and researched for every snippet of fact.
“So are you game?” Trent asked.
“I am,” Scott said. He wanted to help. To make a difference in the frightening rise of drug dealing in his town. “So, when is this going down?” Scott asked.
“Right after midnight.”
“Okay.” Scott rubbed his chin thinking of beautiful Isabelle and the fact that they’d both caught the magic of New Year’s. “Isabelle’s not going to like this. And what about you and Cate?”
“Luke and Sarah will take Cate home. Danny’s staying over at their house tonight. Danny’s always up for a sleepover with Timmy and Annie. I don’t know if it’s their golden retriever or playing in the tent in Timmy’s room that he likes most.”
Scott chuckled. “It couldn’t be that cute little red-haired Annie, could it? I mean, I know Danny is only six...”
“Just turned seven.”
Scott spread his hands. “Well then, there you are!”
Their smiles faded as their thoughts went back to the seriousness of their decision.
“I promised Isabelle I’d dance with her at midnight.”
“Sorry,” Trent replied, looking over at Cate, who was pointing to the dance floor. “I’m being summoned. It’s up to you if you want to come, Scott. But I’m leaving at twelve.” Trent rose from his chair and started to walk away. “I forgot to tell you...this is top secret. You can’t tell Isabelle about any of this.”
Scott sighed.
Trent slapped his shoulder. “Tough changing the world, isn’t it?”
“Seriously,” Scott replied as he watched Edgar walk toward the stage with a microphone in his hand. It was nearing midnight. The witching hour. The New Year.
Isabelle walked toward him through the groups of couples making their way to the dance floor for the final countdown. Her face was filled with expectation and more happiness than he’d seen in her green eyes in a long time. Her smile was enough to kill most grown men.
He held out his hand. “Wanna dance, beautiful?”
“I do,” she said, taking his hand and then yanking him toward the floor. The orchestra was just finishing up a romantic ballad. Edgar was thanking everyone, rattling off the Lodges’ reopening dates.
Scott inhaled the scent of lavender and rose that Isabelle wore, and rested his cheek against her soft one. She felt perfect in his arms. Tonight she looked like a goddess, silver and sparkling like a moonbeam off the lake.
“I have plans for us,” she whispered wistfully.
He opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. For months they’d been at odds. They’d had little that reminded them of why they were together at all. He knew she wanted to be with him tonight. Maybe share a brandy by the giant fire in the Lodges’ bar. Or her favorite, a moonlit walk in the snow by the lake. Half an hour ago, Scott would have given anything to do either of those things with Isabelle, but he’d committed to leaving with Trent. He needed this story.
“Ten!” Edgar shouted into the microphone.
“Isabelle, I can’t.”
She stared at him. “Can’t what?”
He could feel his insides ripping in half. He wanted to be with Isabelle, but a rare opportunity had presented itself. Scott was taking a chance on this assignment with Trent, but he knew if he didn’t try, he’d never know if he could live out his journalism dreams. He was hoping Isabelle would understand. He’d always supported her art; surely she’d return the kindness.
“Nine!” Edgar shouted. The crowd was now counting