Copper Lining (The Cardwell Family Series Book 3) Page 17

  “Wes says you snuck out and left without saying goodbye.” Maybelle’s eyes meet mine.

  Guilt twists in my gut. “Yeah, that was rude of me. I knew if I didn’t rip off the band-aid, I would’ve canceled my flight and stayed. I laid in his bed thinking this guy is too young for me. All wrong for my life. I needed to get out of there before I end up falling into something I couldn’t pull myself out of.”

  “Well, you’re in it now.” This comes from Caroline.

  “Yep, you sure are,” Maybelle adds.

  “How so?”

  Haven drops off the potato skins and the dip. “For starters, you’ve been to the Cardwell Sunday brunch. And that is serious business in our family.”

  “It’s true.” Maybelle helps herself to more dip. “And Wes has never brought a woman to brunch.”

  “Technically, he didn’t. Iris invited me.”

  Caroline laughs. “Yeah, she invited me to the first one too. On a Saturday night in the middle of the baking aisle.”

  The conversation pivots to work. Maybelle sings praises about my ideas with the cocktail kits and bar in a jar. It feels good to be appreciated, and more than that, I like that it feels like I’m making a difference in some small way.

  “No fear, ladies, I’m here.”

  I glance over my shoulder where a handsome man stands in the doorway holding two bottles of wine. He’s at least six foot three. Dirty blond hair and golden-green eyes dressed in dark denim jeans and a distressed blue T-shirt that amplifies the hue in his eyes.

  If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s Sawyer’s doppelganger.

  His gaze skims to mine. “You must be Minka. I’m Aaron, brother-in-law to this one.” He bends to kiss Maybelle’s cheek. “And step-brother to this one,” he says and then points to Caroline.

  “Nice to meet you,” I tell him.

  Caroline hands him a wineglass, and he pours the sangria. “So, what are we talking about?”

  Maybelle loads her plate with potato skins and some sour cream. “Cardwell family Sunday brunch.”

  “Oh yes, Iris really knows how to throw a brunch,” he says. “She invited me, intending to hook Haven and me up.”

  Haven laughs. “That was the day you told me that you weren’t having kids and I quote, who knows if my brother will ever settle down.”

  “I also told you my end goal was to get back to New York,” he says before taking a long drink. “And now that you’re moving back, and I’m going to be an uncle . . .”

  “And you’re in a wonderful relationship,” Haven points out.

  “With an actual man and not just your cats.” Maybelle points her fork at him.

  Caroline tells me about the two cats Aaron adopted at the local shelter and that he was contemplating adopting more.

  “We had to hold an intervention,” Caroline chirps out. “We couldn’t let Aaron turn into the old man with dozens of cats.”

  Aaron raises his glass. “Yeah, looks like Mayfield is home for good.”

  His smile beams through, and I’m really happy for all of them. The night rolls on with laughs and a heavy flow of wine and wonderful food.

  Before I know it, it’s nearly midnight and Caroline’s pulling me out the door.

  “I take it you had fun tonight?”

  “I had a lot of fun. Everyone here is so nice, and Aaron is a hoot.”

  I’m a little tipsy for sure. When I get home, I’ll need to chug a gallon of water and take two ibuprofen.

  Caroline flips her turn signal and pulls onto Main Street. “Thank you. And you gotta come to the baby shower. We’re doing a whole gender reveal and shower in one. I’ll hand-deliver your invite.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  A funny feeling washes over me. It’s an odd combination of happy and sad. I realize that sounds super generic, but over the last few weeks, I’ve become closer to the Cardwells than nearly anyone in my life, including my own family.

  Maybe I’ve found my family here.

  What if Mayfield is where I belong?

  Minka

  I’m almost done with the second batch of bacon jam when my cell rings, and the screen lights up with an unfamiliar number.

  “Hello, this is Minka MacDonald.”

  “Oh, Ms. MacDonald. I’m so glad I caught you, this is Kitty Dubrow.”

  Kitty is the program director at Celia’s camp.

  “Hi, is everything okay?”

  “Celia’s fine, but I’ve got some terrible news.”

  My stomach hits bottom and my pulse picks up speed. “What happened?”

  Kitty informs me that a thunderstorm ripped through the area, tearing down trees and power lines. That explains why she’s calling from an odd number.

  “A large tree fell and crushed our main hall—the one where the campers eat and where most of our activities take place. But we’ve discovered asbestos, and we have to replace the building. I’ve got to send the campers home. I’ll refund your money for Celia’s remaining time here.”

  My fingers massage my temple. “Where is Celia?”

  “We have moved the campers to a local hotel. They were nice enough to provide rooms and food for the girls, but they need their rooms back before the weekend.”

  “I’m on the next plane out.”

  “I have sent the hotel information to your email. My cellphone is charging at the moment, which is why I called you from the hotel.”

  “Thank you, Kitty. I’ll text you when I land.”

  I hang up the phone and finish the sauce. Tyler’s going to put bourbon bacon cheeseburgers on the menu at his restaurant over the weekend for a trial run. Hopefully, people order and ask all about the sauce.

  The adrenaline rush makes me a little edgy. I don’t recall how I made it here, but I’m standing outside Brant’s office.

  “Hey, Minka. Come on in,” he greets me with a full smile.

  “Uh, I have to fly out to New York.” My voice shakes a bit.

  The smile slides off his face, and concern replaces the look. “Is everything okay?”

  “No, a terrible storm tore through my daughter’s camp, and there’s damage . . . something about asbestos and I have to pick her up. I’m sorry.”

  “But your daughter is okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah, she’s safe at a hotel with the other campers.” My hands wring together, and the worst thoughts creep into my head. What if Celia had been hurt?

  “Minka? You okay?”

  I nod. “Yeah, just doing the whole ‘what if’ parental worrying thing in my head. Sorry.”

  “Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do. That’s your kid,” Brant says calmly. “There’s no need to be sorry.”

  I finish explaining the situation to Brant, and I’m about to leave when I hear, “I’m coming with you.”

  I turn on my heel and see Wes standing just inside the doorway.

  “What, I—Wes, no, you don’t—” I’m stammering. Even though I know Celia’s safe, I’ve got so many thoughts and feelings swirling around my head that I can’t seem to get a hold of a single one.

  “I’m coming with you, Minka.”

  “Okay, um, we need to book a flight. There’s an airport about an hour west of the camp. Then we’ll need a rental car. Hopefully, we can get a same-day flight there and back, so we don’t have to stay at a hotel.”

  Rubbing the back of my neck, I prepare a checklist for the airport. I’ll need an overnight bag, just in case. Wes’ voice interrupts my inner thoughts.

  “Tyler, I need your plane. Minka needs to fly to upstate New York to get her daughter . . . today, yeah. Just there and back. Yep.”

  My eyes meet his, and I swear my heart cracks. Those green eyes of his hold mine for a fraction and I feel my head spin with dizziness.

  Nodding, he adds, “We’ll be there in an hour. Great. Thanks, Tyler. I owe you one.”

  He ends the call, and his lips shape into a soft smile. “We gotta be at the Smyrna Hills airstrip in an hour. Let’s get
you to Celia.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. That’s how we roll here.”

  A sigh of relief washes through me. “All the same, thank you.”

  Brant leans against his desk. “I wish we had a Cardwell jet.”

  Wes shakes his head. “Maybe someday we will.”

  “Well, the bacon jam is in the refrigerator in the kitchen. It’s ready to go. Should we drop it by Tyler’s restaurant on our way out?”

  “Nope. Leave everything to me,” Brant says. “You two have a safe flight.”

  Three hours later, I’m in the Adirondacks in the back of a town car that Tyler arranged for the two of us and heading toward the hotel where Celia is staying.

  Foot tapping against the floorboard, fidgeting in my seat, I’m a live wire. It seems like months since I’ve seen my baby girl.

  And now I realize that Wes is with me, and he’s going to meet Celia.

  Wes grabs my hand. “What’s got you so on edge?”

  Over the last weeks, we’ve slid seamlessly into this quiet comfort level. Where it’s okay to touch one another in public. Around the office. His family and friends.

  But this is my life. Now he’s going to be in my world.

  “Nothing, I’m just excited to see Celia. It’s been so long since I’ve hugged her.”

  “Are you sure part of your nervousness doesn’t have a little something to do with the fact I’m going to meet her?”

  “Maybe a little,” I admit. “You’re the first guy I’ve introduced her to since her father and I split.”

  “First? Really?” A smug grin pulls at the corners of his beautiful lips.

  “I told you I have a lot of responsibility with work and not a lot of free time to date.” Again, I glance up at him. Smug smile still intact.

  “So, are we dating?” He pulls me into his side.

  I jab him in the ribs. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re needy?”

  A laugh rumbles in his chest. “Nope. You’re the first.”

  “Good.”

  Wes kisses the top of my head. “And while we’re at it, let’s make sure I’m the last guy to meet Celia.”

  The thought warms my belly, and I smile, holding onto the last moments we have together before my two worlds collide. It’s at that instant I realize my foot’s steady and my fingers are still threaded with his.

  Wes

  “Mom, hi.” Celia runs toward Minka, and I can’t get over how much they look alike.

  Celia is Minka’s mini-me and even more adorable in person.

  She walks up to me. “Hi, I’m Celia, and you are?”

  “Wes. I’m a friend of your mom’s. Nice to meet you.”

  Minka picks up an overstuffed purple backpack and hands it to her daughter. “Wes and I work together, and he offered to come with me so I wouldn’t have to travel alone. Wasn’t that nice of him?”

  Celia bops on her feet and slings her backpack over her shoulder. “Super nice. Thanks for keeping my mom company, Wes.”

  “It’s my pleasure.”

  “Whoa, hey,” I hear a child’s voice drawl out. “You’re the Manta Ray Whisperer.”

  I look to my left to find a girl with strawberry blond hair looking up at me.

  “What?” I shake my head.

  “Celia, you know the Manta Ray Whisperer?” the little voice asks and taps at the screen of her phone.

  Celia shrugs. “I just met him. This is Wes.”

  I shove my hands into my pockets. “What makes you think I’m the Manta Ray Whisperer?”

  “My parents took me and my brothers to Maui. You taught us how to paddleboard, and then we went on a boat ride. Your hair was longer then, but I remember your tattoos. My mom told all her friends about you.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Lucie Landers.” She holds her phone up. “Look, there are all these YouTube videos of you.”

  Minka’s fist covers her mouth. I can see she’s biting back a smile, clearly enjoying this little display.

  I hold up my hands in mock surrender. “Yep. I’m the Manta Ray Whisperer. But I kinda like to keep that a secret since there are no rays around these parts. Unless you’ve had a recent encounter.”

  Her green eyes go wide. “No, sir. No rays here. But can I have a picture with you?”

  “Sure. Let’s sit over here on the couch, and I can take the selfie.”

  “My brothers are going to be so jealous.” She laughs and I snap the pic.

  “There ya go, Lucie.”

  “Thank you.”

  She skips off to her group of friends, and I blow out a deep breath. Minka and Celia are chatting with some woman in a Camp Rosewood jacket. Probably the director.

  Celia hugs the woman and tells her goodbye. I make my way toward them. A broad smile stretches across Minka’s face.

  “Well, if you’re all done with your adoring fans, we should get going.”

  “Yeah, are you guys hungry? We can grab some food before we get back on the plane.”

  “I’m starving,” Celia drawls out and grabs the handle on her giant purple suitcase. “Can we get pizza?”

  “Do you know of any pizza places here?” Minka asks her daughter.

  “Well, the first thing I did when I got my iPad charged was look up all the restaurants in the area. There’s a craft pizza place just up the street.”

  “You looked up restaurants in the area?” I ask with a laugh.

  “Yeah, on the weekends, we got to leave camp and go into town. I needed to know where the best places to eat were.”

  This kid is cute. How old did Minka say she was? Like nine or ten, maybe?

  Celia talks and talks. She doesn’t take a breath until we reach the black sedan. “Whoa, is this our car?”

  “Yep,” Minka chirps.

  Larry, our driver, makes his way to the back of the car and opens the trunk to pile Celia’s things inside.

  “You guys have a driver? Wes, you must be like really famous.”

  I shrug as my brows rise. “Thank you, Larry. We’re going to grab some pizza up the street.”

  “Pizza-ology is great. Highly recommended.” He shuts the trunk.

  “Can’t wait to see for myself. I’ll text you when we’re ready to leave.”

  “Very good, Mr. Cardwell. I’ll make sure the jet is prepped and ready for your departure.”

  “A jet? A private plane?” Celia squeaks out. “Mom, are we seriously flying in a private jet?”

  Minka chuckles. “Yes, we are. Wes’ brother-in-law’s company has a jet, and they were kind enough to let us borrow it.”

  I laugh at the way Minka inches out the word borrow.

  “You can just borrow a jet? Wow, I thought it was cool when Erin let me borrow her striped denim skirt. But a private jet, that is like super cool.”

  Minka opens the door to the pizza place, and we’re seated right away. The restaurant is mostly empty aside from a table of six and two women in the corner eating salads.

  What’s the etiquette when dating someone with a kid? Can I order a beer?

  “I’ll have a glass of your pinot noir,” Minka tells the server.

  Question answered.

  Celia asks a handful of questions about the fizzy kid’s drinks. “Can you make the lemonade drinks without sugar?”

  Our server, Bex, smiles. “Of course, we use the sugar-free syrup. The blue raspberry and the pineapple are my favorite.”

  “Great. I’ll have the blue raspberry, please.”

  Her gaze swings to me. “I’ll take a Bud Light. Thanks.”

  “Bottle or tap?”

  “Bottle with a glass.”

  I take a look at the menu and take note of all the specialty pizzas. Who thinks of steak and mushrooms? Chicken gouda? Ah, the hot mama—capicola, fresh mozzarella, hot peppers, and tomato sauce.

  “Which pizza should we get?” Minka asks.

  “These are interesting combos.”

  Celi
a laughs. “Yeah, Mom, they have your favorite: mushroom garlic.”

  My brows lift. “Mushrooms and garlic, really?”

  Minka’s face scrunches, and she looks like she might throw up. “No. Mushrooms are pretty much the worst thing that’s ever happened to food.”

  “Mom says mushrooms are a fungus, and it’s like eating athlete’s foot.”

  Minka folds her hands on top of her menu. “It’s not like, Cece. It’s a fungus. Mold, for crying out loud. Just like blue cheese.”

  “What do you have against garlic?”

  She eyes her daughter. “When I was pregnant with Cece, I craved garlic bread.”

  Celia laughs. “Now she hates it.”

  “I don’t hate it. I just can’t eat a lot of it.”

  Bex returns with our drinks. “Have you decided on a pizza?”

  “We’re thinking something with no garlic and no mushrooms,” I say, letting Minka off the hook.

  “Some people like our classic pizza with green peppers instead of mushrooms. There’s a tiny bit of garlic in the sauce. Would that work?”

  Minka nods and Celia adds on an order of breadsticks with cheese sauce. In the background, the jukebox plays “Into the Mystic” by Van Morrison.

  “This is a great song,” I mention before tossing back some of my beer. “It always reminds me of the movie Mystic Pizza.”

  Minka looks up at me. “I don’t remember that song being on the soundtrack. And were you even born when that movie came out?”

  “It wasn’t. And no, I was born a few years later. But my brother had a thing for Annabeth Gish. He made me watch that and Shag all the time.”

  “What’s Shag? Is that a movie about people having sex?” Celia asks.

  Minka’s eyes go wide. “Celia,” she stage-whispers. “What on earth? Do you . . . sex?”

  “Mom, it’s no big deal.”

  “No big deal,” Minka repeats. “You’re nine years old.”

  Celia laughs and stirs the lemonade with a straw. “I’ll be ten next month. I’m not dumb. I know how babies are made.”

  Minka gulps her wine. “Oh good, well, I’m glad the money I’m paying for your education is being put to good use.”