Garroway Paper was in a very dull five-story office building, in a small industrial park en route to the freeway out of Wedlock Creek. The company had the entire third floor, and the seventeen employees were in the large conference room. Nick glanced at the Garroway Paper logo on the wall above the long credenza. Once, he’d looked at that logo with pride. When he was a kid, he thought his father was like a king or the president of the United States for having his name on a company, and he had to admit that the logo still spoke to that little kid somewhere inside him. His family was important to him, so he wasn’t all that surprised.
He shook a lot of hands as Brandon introduced him to sales reps, the controller, administrative assistants, vendors and the marketing manager—who’d immediately asked if she could do a social-media blast about a Garroway son returning home from a long military career. Brandon approved it with gusto before Nick could say a word. He shrugged it off, but he didn’t like his military career being a bonus only when it looked good for the company. Whatever. He was long used to the machine.
With his brother chatting away to a vendor, Nick moved into a corner next to the buffet table and helped himself to something that looked like a very small quiche. He glanced around the room for his dad and found him surrounded by an animated group. His father sure looked happy. Jeb was in his element here. The smile, much like he’d had at the dinner where Nick had met Cathy, satisfied something inside Nick. His dad was happy here. Brandon was happy here. And Nick was happy for them. I’m glad I came, he thought.
“I can tell you feel like you’re missing out,” Brandon said, appearing on his left. His brother put an arm around his shoulder that suddenly felt like a clamp. “Your expression gives you away. You want a piece of this. And you can have it with a simple yes. There’s even a private office waiting for you. Did you know that Dad kept it open for you all these years?”
Nick had gone from anger at Brandon’s manipulative mumbo jumbo to the mini quiche in his stomach turning to sludge. His father had kept an office open for Nick? What?
“Come on, I’ll show you,” Brandon said, and Nick had no intention of following his brother out the door and to the office, but he had to get the hell out of this room, which was suddenly closing in on him. He could make one sharp right and disappear into the stairwell, gulp in some air. “Here it is,” Brandon said, gesturing at an ajar office door, the neon-red Stairwell sign so close—yet so far.
At least his name wasn’t on a placard on the door. Brandon stepped into the medium-sized room. Desk, chair, lamp, phone. Credenza. Small bookcase. Window facing the parking lot.
“Of course, if you prefer a view of the gardens out front, we can switch someone for you,” Brandon said. “I’m thinking two weeks of intensive training by me and all of the department heads—of course, most departments are one-person operations, so we’ll have to look at their schedules—and within a couple of months, you’ll be regional manager. Like I said before, by Christmas I don’t see why see why you couldn’t be VP of operations. And sorry, older bro, but I’ll always be President, so you’ll have to settle for second in line to me. Seniority over age. You get it, right?”
Oh, he got it. This invitation was a ploy, just as Nick had suspected. Not about having him share in something special to his dad and to the company, but trying to force him into this office—where he didn’t belong. Where he’d never belong.
“Brandon, I’m here today to celebrate the company’s fortieth. That’s all.”
His brother scowled. “Right. I forgot. Being a nanny—a manny,” he added, with extra scorn in his head shake, “is your chosen career path, now that you’re a civilian.”
“I told you, the nanny job is temporary.”
Brandon’s eyes lit up. “Ah, so it’s just a summer thing? So, when shall we expect you? How about the Tuesday after Labor Day? Fitting, don’t you think?”
Long, hard sigh. “I’m not planning to join Garroway Paper, Brandon.”
“What the hell are you planning?”
“I’m going to buy a ranch, a couple thousand acres. Cattle, sheep, chickens.”
His brother stared at him. “What the ever-loving hell? Now you’re a cowboy?”
“That’s the goal,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about it a long time. Remember when we’d visit Aunt Ginny on the ranch? It sparked something in me back then.”
That small farm really had. The Garroways had driven the two hours out, and the minute Nick had gotten out of the car, breathed in that country air mingled with the scent of hay and horses, he’d felt the strangest sensation that he’d realized was akin to homecoming. It was the same feeling he got every time he came back stateside after a tour. Because he hadn’t been welcome in his family home, Nick had stayed at guest ranches in Wyoming, researching the idea of having his own place one day. The more he read up, the more he visited, the more he talked to ranchers and cowboys, the more he knew it was the life he wanted.
Nick scowled. “Aunt Ginny was a crazy recluse who had two horses and four goats and operated a small goat-milk business, which she put her own labels on and sold in local stores. That’s not ranching.”
“It was to her,” Nick pointed out. Aunt Ginny had passed away years ago. She was their mother’s sister and had never married. She’d always said she wanted to live life her way, on her terms, on her own land, and have animals for company instead of people. Nick had always admired her. But to the family, she’d been crazy Aunt Ginny, even to Nick’s mom, who often claimed not to understand her sister.
“Why start something when something already exists?” Brandon asked. “That’s what I don’t get. Garroway Paper is here and waiting for you. We need you, Nick.”
Stab to the heart. Brandon had said that before, a few times, and it had always deflated him, whooshed the anger right out. And made him feel guilty as hell. We need you.
“Brandon, time to cut the cake!” a woman called out.
Nick glanced toward the voice. Saved.
“We’ll continue this conversation,” Brandon said, then walked back into the conference room.
Not if I can help it, Nick thought, the collar of his shirt tightening on him as he headed back too, staying near the door—the exit.
A huge five-layer cake that read Congrats, Garroway Paper: 40 Years! in red icing was brought to the long table. Jeb made the first slice of the cake to cheers and clapping, Brandon wolf whistling beside their dad.
As Nick clapped too, he caught his father’s eye. The warm nod Jeb gave him touched something inside Nick, filled some hole that been there a long time. Okay, I needed that, he thought, feeling glad he’d come.
But the gleam in his brother’s eye poked at his gut. As plates of cake made their way around the room, Nick slipped out and went down that stairwell and into the air, sucking in a long, hard breath.
What a day, Brooke thought, plunking down on the sofa, with one eye on the twins as they gnawed their little chew toys in their swings, and her mind going over details of the Garroway-Wylie wedding. Every detail was in place for this Saturday’s big event. She’d spent the morning at the Sagebrush Sanctuary and Retreat and had managed to book the caterer, florist, jazz band and minister, while sipping a fruit-infused water, on a floor cushion in the gazebo where Jeb and Cathy would have their ceremony. Brooke had just followed up via text with the events manager, and everything on her list had been crossed off with a thrilling done.
She liked being so busy. Today her mind had been on her job and not her love life. Even if her job was a celebration of love itself. Oy.
Brooke loved that Cathy would wear the dress her mother had worn to travel to her honeymoon sixty years ago, and her daughters would each wear floaty satin sand-colored dresses they’d fallen in love with in a boutique last weekend, during a whirlwind shopping trip. The Garroway men would each wear a sand-colored suit that Jeb had arranged for at a fancy men’s store, and go tieless in keeping with the outdoor, yoga-esque theme.
With all of that settled, she did a little work on the Satler wedding, organizing the emails each triplet had sent about what was a must for “their day” and what they could compromise on in the name of sisterhood. Shelley had insisted on each sister having her own cake, but Samantha had thought that would be weird at cake-cutting time, since none of the guests would want to miss the first cutting of the cake by each sister, and by the time they got to whoever went third, the guests would be bored and that poor sister would miss out.
Ah, the tiny and yet huge problems of a triple wedding.
Brooke had already booked the Wedlock Creek Chapel for the June wedding the triplets wanted, as well as the grand ballroom of the Wellington Hotel. She had set up tastings at seven caterers, all of whom offered a gluten-free menu, and had gotten live club dates for five of the bands on the list so that the triplets could see how they performed live. The sisters had been Pinteresting their wedding gowns and bridesmaid dresses for years now, well before they’d ever met their fiancés, so they were all now on special order. Each group of bridesmaids would wear a slightly different hue of pink. The entire wedding party, including the brides, would wear cowboy boots—stiletto-versions for the triplets.
Gram, you would have gotten such a kick out of this wedding, she thought with a smile.
After her work was done, Nick kept popping into her mind. She was dying to know how things were going at the party. She thought of him in that dark suit...and saw herself walking down an aisle to her waiting groom. To Nick Garroway.
Her breath hitched.
“Okay, boys. Time for a stroll. Maybe a trip to Java Jane’s for a blast of caffeine for mama.” She got Mikey and Morgan in their stroller and headed out, the sun still so bright at five thirty, the summer air warm and breezy and smelling like her neighbor’s gorgeous rose garden.
In five minutes she was at the coffee shop, eyeing the slices of chocolate cheesecake and hoping the line would move quickly, when she felt a tap on her shoulder.
“Brooke Timber, right?” the woman asked, flashing very white teeth in a faux smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
Interesting, Brooke thought. “That’s me.”
“I’m Allison Fielding of the newly opened Weddings by Allison. I heard you were my biggest competition.”
Brooke laughed. “Well, I guess I should take that as a compliment, considering there are several wedding planners in Wedlock Creek. Welcome.”
Allison didn’t even bother with a smile. “I also heard you just signed the Satler triplets’ wedding. Quite a coup.”
“I’m enjoying planning the wedding. Lots of balls to keep in the air,” Brooke said, something in the woman’s tone making her wary.
“Yes. I know a wedding planner in Jackson who planned a twin wedding, and boy, did that turn into a disaster,” Allison said. “The twins were at each other’s throats, couldn’t agree on anything, and my poor friend took the brunt of their anger and all the blame. She ended up having to move, poor thing. And you’ve got triplets.”
Ah. Brooke knew this game. It was called I’m Trying To Psych You Out. But Allison Fielding clearly didn’t know Brooke well.
“Well, I’ve got this,” Brooke said, inching up in the line. “If I can singlehandedly raise twins and run a successful business, I can do anything. At least that’s what I tell myself,” she added so she wouldn’t be completely fibbing.
Allison’s gloating expression turned into a bit of a scowl before she caught herself. “Well, good luck. You’ll need it.”
“Actually, what I need is experience, passion and being good at what I do, and I’ve got all three covered, so I’ll be just fine. But thanks.”
Luckily Brooke had reached the counter, so she added a smile and turned back around to the barista.
The amazing thing was that, a week ago, this conversation would have derailed Brooke for the day, made her anxious and worried, and left her wondering if she did have what it took. But even before Nick Garroway, Wonder Manny, had come into her life, she’d gone after the Satlers’ business and she’d made it work.
Yeah, fine, maybe they would have run screaming out of her office if he hadn’t shown up just when he had. But she’d had them until that moment, and they’d known that she “got” them, knew what they wanted and would make the entire planning of the huge affair easier on all three. Even if they had gone racing out to save themselves from the hint of baby poop in the air, they would have come back. She believed that.
Because she was good at what she did. Her grandmother had taught her everything she knew. So take that, Ms. High-and-Mighty and—
“Hi, Brooke. Small iced coffee?” the barista asked.
“You know what? I’ll take a large iced mocha. With whipped cream. And a slice of the chocolate cheesecake.” She’d been dreaming of that frothy drink for months. And now that she’d landed a big account, why not celebrate a little?
I have my mojo back, she realized with a little thrill. Hear that, Gram? she thought, picturing Aggie Timber’s lively, animated face and her signature chignon and colorful pantsuits. I’ve got this. Dream Weddings is going to be more than fine.
As she moved over to wait for her order, the word celebration echoed in her mind. She wondered how things were going for Nick at the Garroway Paper party. She hoped his brother wasn’t being the equivalent of Allison Fielding, but she had a feeling he was.
Over the next bunch of days, Brooke couldn’t help but notice that Nick had made himself scarce, which was difficult to do in a small house. He appeared like clockwork at 9:00 a.m., ready to take charge of the twins, and then reappeared at 1:00 p.m., with them changed, fed and ready for a trip to see their favorite squirrels. He’d text throughout the day.
Let me know if you need a break or some time to work. I’m here for you.
And her heart would clench. He was here for her but didn’t want to be—that was what she was finally realizing. He was acting in good faith because of the promise, but he wanted to be anywhere but here.
The only place he’d rather be even less than here was anywhere his brother was. Ever since Nick had returned from Garroway Paper’s fortieth-anniversary party, he’d been distant, both emotionally and otherwise. Except when it came to the twins. Even if he was faking it with them, he’d smile and come alive, with his voice animated and his hugs full of emotion. The cats seemed to cheer him up some too. She’d often find Nick sitting on the patio, deep in thought, with Snowball on his lap and Smudge wedged between his ankles.
And sometimes she’d think, Well, maybe he does want to be here. Maybe it’s just his family giving him agita and grief. But he seemed to be avoiding her too.
Told you not to get all emotionally involved with him! she mentally yelled at herself. But today was Friday and they were leaving for the Sagebrush Sanctuary and Retreat tonight—and staying in the same suite. Which should feel no different than home, really. They’d have their own bedrooms and schedules. He’d probably avoid her there too.
Their group would stay until Sunday morning, and see the newlyweds off on their honeymoon for a week in London. The owner of Sagebrush, a very calm-sounding woman named Geraldine, had assured her that her daughter, who was working part-time at the center for the summer, would babysit the twins for all of the major activities—tonight’s rehearsal dinner, wedding prep and the wedding itself late tomorrow afternoon. Everything was all set. On the home front, Cathy had hired a trusted dogsitter to take in Fritz for the weekend, and a neighbor’s teenaged daughter would pop in three times a day to play with Snowball and Smudge and keep their food and water bowls clean and full.
Nick came downstairs with their suitcases and the twins’ bag, and then he started packing up his Jeep. They settled Morgan and Mikey in their rear-facing car seats and Nick put the lullaby player on low for them.
“I was thinking today about how crazy things are,” he said as they got inside and buckled up.
“Crazy?” she asked. Her feelings for him were crazy, but she had a gorgeous, sexy, six-foot-two-inch manny whose presence in her life was the first bit of absolute magic she’d experienced outside of the birth of her children. He made things less crazy in that regard.
“We’re going to a wedding. My dad’s. Your client’s. At a yoga retreat. When I was driving from the Texas base to Wedlock Creek, I never could have imagined what was in store. Crazy.”
“Ah, so good-crazy, really.”
He smiled. “I guess so. Unexpected.”
Oh yes. Very unexpected. Every bit of how life had unfolded since Nick Garroway’s arrival in her life. “Definitely unexpected. Which is why we’re headed to the right place to just relax a little. The country, nature, trees, winding paths, good energy and healthy foods. Sagebrush Sanctuary and Retreat is much more than a yoga retreat—it’s a wellness center. The focus is on healing, whatever that word means to a particular person at that particular moment in his or her life.”
“I don’t think staring at trees or eating hummus is going to heal me,” he said with something of a smile. “Cynical, I know, but I’m not one to stare off into the middle distance.”
“We’ll just see, then.” She’d been to a couple of wellness centers with her grandmother, and if he thought looking at trees wouldn’t help, he was about to find out how wrong he was. Nature, with very little else to distract, had a way of calming a person like nothing else could. You could think, listen to yourself and come up with answers when none had seemed forthcoming.
She could do with some tree-staring herself.
“What are the accommodations?” he asked. “Is it like a lodge? Or are there individual cabins?”
“Our yurt is a suite. That way we can both have easy access to the twins when we’re not at the rehearsal dinner or the wedding.”
“Wait, a yurt? Like a tent-and-cabin one?”
“Yup. There are some traditional cabins and rooms in the main lodge, but they were all booked. The wedding party will be staying in the yurts, and most of the guests are just driving in for the wedding and leaving afterward, since it’s over by ten.”
“Brandon should love staying in a yurt,” he said. He smiled at the thought, and so did Brooke.
If you don’t ask, you don’t get info that you’re dying to know, she reminded herself. Sometimes a little prying was good. Nick had evaded her questions over the last couple of days, but maybe getting him to open up, even just a little now, would help with some of his tension.
She glanced at him. “Have you spoken to your brother since the party at Garroway Paper?”
All she knew of that day was that Nick “didn’t want to talk about it,” so she assumed Brandon had ratcheted up the pressure on getting Nick to work for the company. Or maybe his dad had too, but Brooke didn’t get the feeling that Jeb was after Nick to work for the family business. Brooke had the feeling that his dad had come to some good conclusions about Nick going his own way.
And she also had a feeling that unexpectedly finding love—a second chance at happiness with another person—had a lot to do with that.
“He emailed me a bunch of documents the night of the party,” Nick said. “Financials, company overview, five-year plan. He even included a speech he’d given at some conference about his favorite kind of paper. You should have heard the passion in his voice about brightness and opacity and coatings.”
“Sounds like he really cares about paper too,” Brooke said.
“Wish I did.”
She looked at him, tilting her head. “Do you really?”
He nodded. “If I cared an eighth as much about paper as they did, I’d probably want to join the business. But I don’t care about paper, Brooke. And that pits me against my family. It would be like if you didn’t care about weddings.”
“I think my grandmother would have been all right with me following my own passions though.”
“After showing you the ropes? Working at her side since you were knee-high?”
She bit her lip. “Yeah, maybe she would have been a little disappointed that her company wouldn’t go on. But I think she’d want me to be happy. She wouldn’t want her happiness at my expense. That’s not love.”
He glanced at her. “Brandon doesn’t look at it that way. It’s not about happiness or giving up anything. It’s about doing what’s right. To him anyway.”
“Do you think you two will be able to build a new relationship?”
“I don’t know. I don’t see how.”
“It kills you, doesn’t it,” she said in almost a whisper.
“Yeah. It does. He’s my kid brother, even if he’s twenty-seven now. I was once everything to him. Now he sees me as a disappointment. I didn’t realize how much that bothered me until I got here and started interacting with him.”
“Maybe this weekend, two families coming together, a show of love, will help. And all the nature and yurts.”
That got a smile out of him. “I hope so, Brooke. But I won’t hold my breath.”
I will, she thought. If not for the two of you, then for the two of us. But maybe that was just as hopeless. Nick could see how stubborn his brother was being, but he couldn’t see how stubborn he himself was being. At his own expense. Denying himself love because of the past. Looking to run off to the Wyoming wilderness, hours away, to avoid everything.
She needed this weekend to work on him too.
She would hold her breath.