Hunks, Hammers, and Happily Ever Afters (34 page)

She tugged out her phone to be sure, but all she saw were two missed calls from Maura, and she didn’t have the wherewithal to deal with her sister at the moment.

“You’ve been off for almost an hour,” Finn said. “Go over and see what’s going on.”

“I’m a big girl, Finn.”  She knocked her shoulder into his chest to try to make him feel better. “I can take being stood up.”

“Maybe you can, but we can’t.” Seamus took up sentry on the other side of Regan. “Nobody messes with our sister.”

“You boys do know it’s the 21
^st
century, right? I can handle my own fights, thank you very much.”

“Then do something. Go over there and—”

“Fine!”  She slapped the bar towel onto the counter and shoved the glass into Seamus’ hands. “If it means shutting you two up, I’ll go, okay? This is not a tragedy so stop making such a big deal out of it.” All the more reason not to date; if she didn’t date, she didn’t risk being stood up, which she could have managed just fine if she didn’t have Frick and Frack power bantering on either side of her and plotting Brodie’s doom.

She headed outside before they could argue and as she breathed in the late afternoon air, her head cleared. The disappointment settled into an acceptance, but there was something else niggling around the edges. Doubt.  Brodie didn’t strike her as the type of man who would go to the lengths he had of asking her out and then not show up. Something else had to be going on. An odd chill raced down her spine. Something...

Cilla.

The realization landed on her with the force of a rock slide, trapping her breath in her chest as she dashed across the street, narrowly missing a red Prius as it beeped past her in what could laughingly be called rush hour traffic in Lantano Valley. 

Any thoughts as to what she might say when she pushed her way into MARKED vanished when she saw her sister sitting behind the reception desk. “Maura.” Okay, what rabbit hole had she fallen down?  “What are you doing here?”

“I work here.” Maura planted her hands on her hips. “Something you’d know if you answered my calls.  Ignoring me doesn’t mean I’m going away, Regan. Sorry to tell you, but you’re stuck with me.”

She couldn’t have run fast enough to keep up with Maura’s train of thought. “Going—stuck with—Maura, what on earth—?”

“Did Brodie call you?” Maura interrupted.  “He had an emergency.”

“What? No.” Regan scanned the shop and found the young Asian man, much like she had the other day, only this time his needle was embedded in a young man's ribcage. Regan cringed. Man, that had to hurt. “No, he didn’t. Is it Cilla?”

“He just called from the hospital.” He turned off the needle and snapped off surgical globes as he got to his feet. He approached her, hand outstretched. “We didn’t get the chance to meet the other day. I’m Toshi. I’ve worked with Brodie for quite a while.  Cilla’s fine.  She broke her arm, but it’s a clean break and they’re putting a cast on now. Then they’re heading home.”

“Oh.” Regan pressed a hand against her heart and breathed a bit easier despite the concern for the little girl. There were worse things than broken bones, but she’d bet Brodie was in a state. “Thank goodness she’s okay. I had the feeling—Maura?” Back to the confusing aspect of her arrival. “I don’t understand this.” She waved her hand around the studio.

“Why don’t you two take this in there?” Toshi gestured to Cilla’s tea room. “I’ll keep an ear for the phones. Go on.”  He herded them like misbehaving sheep. “You two have a lot to discuss and I have a client to finish with. Jones, man, I’ll be back with you in a tick.  Go.”  He aimed piercing dark eyes on Regan, as if silently telling her to be the adult and take the lead.

“Just back there?”  She headed toward the curtain.

“There you go.” Toshi trailed behind, moving them along as Maura trudged after her after plucking a piece of paper out of the printer tray. “Almost there. Good girls.” He ripped the curtain closed behind them and Regan swore she heard him mutter, “Women.”

“I’d say I’m a bit lost, but that’s the understatement of the century.” Regan’s hangover returned with a vengeance and she longed for her sunglasses. “Maura, what is going on? Since when do you work here?”

“Brodie hired me this morning.”  She pushed the paper under Regan’s nose. “Yesterday he said he liked my work so I showed him some ideas for branding. I thought maybe I could do some design work for him. Instead, he offered me a job. If that’s okay?”

Regan picked up the flyer and  looked at it. The writing and design was crisp and clear, distinctive without being off-putting or kitchy. “You did this?”

“Yeah.” Maura crossed her arms over her chest. “Maybe art isn’t such a waste of time after all.”

This was the second time she’d heard Maura make that accusation and this time it was definitely aimed at her. “I never said it was.”

“Yes, you did. Last Christmas,” Maura accused. “I overheard you and Des talking in the kitchen when you were making breakfast. You said art never made anyone any money, that it was a waste of time and energy and that anyone who—”

“Hang on, hold up.” Regan held up her hands as if staving off an attack. Obviously Maura had been waiting to hit her with this for quite some time and Regan had completely missed the signs.  This was what her sister had been so angry about? This was why she’d been acting out?  “I don’t know what you thought you heard, but the only conversation I’ve ever had with Des about art had to do with the Wakefield Gallery closing late last year because it wasn’t making any money.  And now that I think about it.” Regan frowned, the conversation coalescing in her memory. “I do remember saying it was a shame all those artists wasted their time and energy when the gallery owners knew they wouldn’t be open much longer. They’d turned down other exhibition prospects because of promises Wakefield and his people gave them.”

Maura blinked disbelieving eyes.

“But that isn’t what you heard. Oh, Maura.”  Regan clutched the paper against her chest as the teen’s behavior these last few months suddenly made sense. “Maura, I’ve always thought you were incredibly talented. Why do you think I’ve bought you art sets every Christmas since Ma’s been gone? I wanted you to know I had faith in you. But I guess maybe that was a mistake on my part.”

Whatever hope had been emerging on Maura’s face died. “You mean you’ve changed your mind?”

“Oh, for the love of...” Regan resisted the urge to dig her hands into her hair and pull. “I just don’t seem to say the right thing where you’re concerned, do I? What I meant by mistake was I should have
told
you. I assumed you knew, Maura. Whatever you want to do with your life, I’m behind you one hundred percent and I’ll help you any way that I can. I love you, kiddo. Even when you make really bad decisions. I couldn’t imagine my life or our family without you.”

Tears welled in Maura’s eyes. “I thought you didn’t want me anymore. I thought maybe you didn’t see me, with everything you have going on with the pub and Dad and Fallon—” she hiccupped, something she always did when she was upset.  “I thought I was just in the way.”

“Is that why you’ve been acting out? What the staying out past curfew and that ridiculous tattoo was all about? You were trying to get my attention.”

Maura shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it? For a while. Then you ditched me on Dad and it’s not like he’s overly attentive.  He just passed me on to Des and Finn and they’re just as busy as you are.”

“Oh, we’ve really screwed up with you, haven’t we?”  Regan set the paper on the counter behind her and walked forward to wrap her arms around her sister. “We were wrong, Maura. All of us. I’m so sorry if I ever led you to believe I didn’t think you were worth my time or attention.”  She rocked back and forth, much the way she’d done those long nights after their mother died.  It took a few minutes and Regan held her breath until she felt Maura’s arms come up and return the hug.  “You’ve always been so self-sufficient, it never occurred to me you needed me maybe even more than Fallon and the boys. Fallon’s so young and the boys, well, they’re—”

“Boys,” Maura laughed and sniffled at the same time. “Yeah, they’re pretty pathetic. Does this mean you’ll be okay with me applying to art school after I graduate?”

Regan leaned back and cupped her sister’s face in her hands. “More than. I’ll even help you with the applications.” And hopefully find a way to help pay for it.

“What about apprenticing here when I’m not in school? Brodie said he’d teach me the business if things go well.”

They’d come full circle and Regan’s head began to spin again. “You really want to work here?”

“I really do.” Maura gave her a shaky smile. “I’d like to help them make a go of MARKED. They just need some help getting things off the ground and since I’ve lived here all my life—”

“I can’t think of anyone better for the job.”  She kissed her sister’s forehead and then stepped back for fear too much affection after such a colossal misunderstanding might push things over the edge. “I guess we both owe Brodie our thanks for finally getting us to talk to one another. Brodie!”

“He looked seriously stressed when he left for the hospital.”

“Yeah, well, Cilla is all he has. I’ll see you at home tonight, okay?”  She gave Maura’s shoulders another squeeze. “I’m glad we worked this out.  But you do know you’re still grounded. Three weeks.”

“Dad didn’t ground me,” Maura pouted.

“Yeah, well, Pop and I are due for a conversation about a lot of things. No more acting out, okay, kiddo? Please. You have an issue, especially an issue with me, you come to me and we talk. No more of this passive aggressive crap that honestly is too exhausting to keep up with.”

“Can we make it two if I exhibit good behavior?” Maura’s eyes went wide again.

“We’ll see. In the meantime, I have the night off. And I’m not about to waste it.”

But first things first. She called a quick good-bye to Toshi as she headed out, hurrying back to the pub to put together one heck of a care package for a hurt little girl and her traumatized father.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Daddy, is Toshi still coming to make me Magic O’s?” Cilla asked as Brodie opened her door and bent over to scoop her and the neon blue cast out of the car. 

“Not tonight, Swee’Pea.” He bit back a groan when she smacked her cast against the side of his head as she tried to “help.”  “I think you’ve had enough excitement for one day.” They both had.

“Then you need to go out on a date soon because I had my heart set on O’s for dinner.”  The pout was classic Cilla, as if every wrong had been settled on her shoulders with a change in schedule. If there was one thing his daughter was not good with, it was change.

Unexpected excitement, however? Now that she thrived on as evidenced by the nearly dozen signatures—most of them doctors and nurses from the ER—scribbled on her cast.

“Miss Banner said I was a real good girl, Daddy. I didn’t cry hardly at all. Have you ever seen a bone stick out like that before?”

“No,” Brodie lied as he closed the door and clicked the alarm button.  “And I hope never to again. Little girls’ arms shouldn’t break.”

“It made a weird noise.” She patted her cast against his back. “A kind of pop and snap just like my rice cereal.”

And there went any future plans for krispy treats.

“Regan!”  Cilla practically spun in his arms. “Daddy, look, Regan’s here! Put me down, please.”

As if he had a choice.  Her feet were moving before she hit the ground, racing around the edge of the lawn and up the walkway to the porch stairs where Regan was sitting.

Regan.

Now Brodie did groan as he glanced at his watch. It was nearly seven. “I forgot to call.” He scrubbed his fingers across his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Regan reached out and caught Cilla before she catapulted herself into Regan’s lap. She dodged Cilla’s cast like an expert, shifting her head from one side to the other as his daughter showed off her new acquisition. “Maura told me.”  The look she gave him let him know they had a lot more to discuss down the road than him standing her up on their first date. “Cilla, how did you break your arm?”

“Cal Benedict told Cedric and Aiden they were too puny to do the monkey bars.  They were sad because they aren’t supposed to go on the monkey bars.” She zipped her finger up the center of her chest. “They had an operation a few months ago cause they were heart sick.  And then Cal was teasing them because they don’t have a real family. They’re fos-fos—Daddy?”  She scrunched up her face as Brodie sat on the stairs beside Regan and his daughter.

“They’re foster kids. Six-year-old twins,” he explained. “Except Miss Banner told me they’re getting a family pretty soon. The Fiorellis, I think she said.” The name was familiar, but his brain was fried.

“Oh, well.” Regan grinned. “They’ll be getting more than the Fiorellis. Their foster home is sponsored by Morgan Tremayne and pretty much her entire family, so your friends Cedric and Aiden?” She jostled Cilla ever so gently as she tucked a springy curl behind her ear. “They are going to be what some would call connected.”

“But Cal Benedict didn’t know this, I suppose,” Brodie said.

“Nu-uh.”  Cilla shook her head. “But I told him to leave Cedric and Aiden alone and then he told me to shut up because I was a girl and girls couldn’t do anything boys could do and then he got up on the monkey bars and started singing this stupid song about—”

“Let me guess,” Regan broke in easily. “You decided to show him exactly what girls could do.”

“Well, almost.” Cilla quirked her mouth. “I almost beat him to the end but then I slipped.”

“And that’s how my little girl broke her arm,” Brodie announced with a mock bow. “Trying to show the boys just what she was capable of.” He did not want to think about what a teenage Cilla was going to be capable of.

“Do you think Cal will sign my cast?”  Cilla frowned down at it.

“I’m sure you’ll find out tomorrow. For now, I think you’ve had enough for one day. Let’s get you inside, fed, and into bed.”  Brodie reached for her, but Cilla had planted her butt on Regan’s thigh.

“I hope you don’t mind.” Regan shifted to the side and exposed a pair of familiar paper bags along with a little gift basket any tea-party loving little girl would adore.  “I thought you could use a break tonight. Burgers and trees. And root beer,” she added and tweaked Cilla’s nose.