STEP 3:
Measure out 3/4 cup of sugar.
If you go a teeny bit over—that’s okay.
A little extra sweetness makes people happy.
~From Mr. Koolemar’s Top Secret,
Kool Kreme Ice Kreamations Recipe Book, pg. 97
“Sweetie, where did you put my coffee mug?” Cait’s mother asked in New Brighton later that night, her knobby fingers shaking slightly as she waved them through the thick gray hair.
Cait admired the beauty of her mother’s soft facial features with the usual pang of envy. They were freckle-free, unlike her own. She noted also the natural gracefulness of Georgina Walsh’s demeanor, something to which she’d always aspired.
She regarded her mother with compassion before scanning the kitchen. The hot mug was only the third item her mom had misplaced this evening. Inevitably, as sleepiness swept over the elderly woman, there would be more lost objects.
“It’s not in here,” Cait said with a sigh. “Perhaps you left it on the hall table when you got the mail?”
“No, no. Oh, I don’t know.” Mom shook her head, puckered her lips and strode out the opposite door to the living room.
Cait sighed again and followed her. “Your bedroom, maybe?”
The clouds of frustration in her mother’s eyes cleared as she spotted a blue-and-white porcelain mug perched carelessly on the edge of an end table. “Here it is!” Her expression of triumph turned to puzzlement. “But it’s empty.”
It was the wrong mug of course, but Cait wasn’t about to tell her that. “Why don’t I refill it for you, Mom.”
“Thank you, honey, but no. I’m not thirsty anymore. Oh, did I tell you? Eleanor showed me a new book of designs she bought. It has dolphins, penguins and other cute things the kids’ll love when we do the face painting at the Hoopla.”
“That’s great,” Cait said faintly, rushing out of the room before her mother could sense anything amiss. “Be right back.”
On her roundabout route to the kitchen, Cait strode through a few rooms and hallways before spotting the evasive object in the bathroom. She picked the bright, floral-patterned mug full of lukewarm coffee off the counter, dumped it in the sink and brought both empty cups to their final resting spot in the dishwasher. If only her mother would remember to turn it on this time, she thought, closing her eyes and squeezing back a few tears.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She should have had emotional support from a lover, a soul mate, at moments like these when her mom’s needs were overwhelming her. When things in her life didn’t go as planned. She should have been happily married right now and been “Mrs. Lloyd,” celebrating her first wedding anniversary tonight with Fredric in a cozy place of their own.
“I love you utterly, eternally,” he’d said with his adorable Aussie accent, dropping his R’s at every turn, no word was safe. “You’re so exquisite. My number one gal.”
Three days later he was gone.
In light of everything he did:
Lying to her about himself and his affections so he’d have companionship while in America.
Cheating on her with his ex-girlfriend Paige (a well-connected, impossibly tiny-waisted, size-two redhead).
Laughing about her lack of sophistication.
Caring more about money, career and social position than being her true love.
Not appreciating her…
It was impossible to mourn the real man. Just her illusion of him. Just the memory of what should have been a happily-ever-after tale, but wasn’t.
Cait thought of other men she’d known. A stray image of Garrett Ellis materialized in her mind. The way he’d tried to dry her off with a paper napkin after the wave soaked them. The way he’d befriended her in one minute then abruptly pulled away in the next. The way natural electricity jumped from his skin’s surface to hers like static shock, first when they shook hands and later when their fingers touched at the beach. The way he leaned in as though he were about to kiss her—but then didn’t.
Maybe there was a scene in some romantic comedy that was like this, but to her it was such a foreign sensation it should’ve had subtitles.
“Did you move my yellow sweater from the recliner? I can’t find it.”
Cait brushed the tears off her cheek. “Let me help you look for it, Mom.”
***
Back in her Ridgewood Grove studio apartment, Cait couldn’t sleep. It was more than night-before-school jitters. Something tugged at her mind.
She threw off her quilt and moaned, thinking of her canceled festival and the wondrous sense of belonging and connection she’d experienced last year. How her mom and Eleanor giggled with the children, dabbing paint on them. How the excited “goblins” told her of their adventures. How the community joined in a spirit of togetherness and fun. Everyone appreciated the Hoopla and, in doing so, they appreciated her.
Cait sat up and played with the fringe of her quilt. If only she could get to know Garrett better, his motivations would be revealed. She knew she could change his mind if she had enough time, but there was a new problem. He didn’t seem real impressed with the festival’s offerings. His facial expression when she’d described the brown-sugar squash had rivaled even board member Shelley McAllister’s last year, who’d looked horrified when Mr. Jenkins explained his recipe for rutabaga al formaggio.
What a piece of work that woman was. The way she dressed like she was one of the Pussycat Dolls—her focus on hair and makeup, too—convinced Cait that Shelley cared more about appearances than education. Why would she even want to serve on the school board?
Cait sighed, thinking about all the vendors and all the terrific treats they’d miss out on now. No grilled bratwurst or strawberry-rhubarb pie. No caramel apples, spiced cider or Mr. Koolemar’s Kreamations.
The Tangy Citrus-Pumpkin Mélange she and Garrett tasted that afternoon haunted her. Reminded her that she’d hoped to feature baby pumpkins and oranges at this year’s Hoopla, placed in cornucopias, along with apples and pears, maybe walnuts and cranberries, too, to highlight the harvest theme and the vivid fall colors.
Too bad she couldn’t do that now.
She poked at her pillow and closed her eyes, still sitting upright. She should go back to sleep, but she couldn’t stop thinking of Garrett. Over and over. He’d sidetracked her. He’d told her nothing about the real reason behind the canceled festival. True, he bought the classroom supplies for her, but then he absconded with her to the beach. She barely had time to tie up the loose ends for tomorrow, which should have made her furious.
Instead…it didn’t.
He’d been charming, mystifying, oddly humorous and, well, almost likable. She hated to admit it. And he might’ve kissed her. And she might’ve let him.
For heaven’s sake, what was she thinking?
It couldn’t be a good idea to get personally involved with an administrator, even if he wasn’t her boss.
But his joking nature put her at ease. His thoughtfulness surprised her, as did his interest in her background. Even that silly cow notebook was kind of funny.
She smiled, remembering.
Still, there was something so disturbing about him. Maybe the way he smelled, all sumptuous and sensual, as if they were in an Italian villa on the Adriatic and not merely at the edge of a Great Lake. But that wasn’t what triggered the recognition. It was something about his face, about his name. She couldn’t quite put a finger on it.
Impulsively, she got out of bed and hopped on the Internet, scrolling through the online white pages in sleepy absentmindedness.
Ellis.
Her fingers, squeezing the mouse, paused in mid-click—her memory finally catching up with her intuition.
Cornucopias…or maybe baskets? Fruit and nut gift baskets?
Holy Mackerel! He can’t be related to THAT Macauley Ellis, can he?
The advertisement was located at the top of their company’s webpage. “From Our Family To Yours,” or so said their slogan. “We ship our Nutty Fruit gift baskets anywhere in the world. Order online or call our toll-free number 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. The Ellis Corporation delivers to your door.”
They certainly did, she thought dryly. Right to her classroom door. Garrett Macauley Ellis—no doubt one of the heirs to the Ellis Fruit and Nut Gift Basket Empire. Base of operations? Why, New Haven, Connecticut, of course.
She whipped the phone over and punched in the numbers. Ellis wasn’t exactly an uncommon name. Maybe Garrett was a second cousin or something to the big wig. God, her mother loved those ridiculous baskets. She held her breath as the phone rang.
“Ellis Corporation. The Nutty Fruit,” the cheery young thing answered. “How may I assist you?”
“I—um—hi.”
“Hi, ma’am.”
“I was just wondering about…about your gift baskets. Are, um, pumpkins or…kiwi fruit ever included in one of your fruit and nut combinations?” Cait was rarely this impulsive and felt woefully unprepared for conversation with a real, live human at this time of night. She covered her eyes with her palm, glad the girl couldn’t see her.
“I don’t believe we have either in any of the standard baskets, but we can surely create one to suit your preferences, if you wish to make a special request. Do you have a particular occasion in mind, ma’am, or a list of produce you wanted to order?”
“Ah, well, I’m…not sure. What’s available?”
“Oh, our selection is huge. You might enjoy checking out our Ellis website at www.TheNuttyFruit.com, or I’d be happy to send you a copy of our international catalog.”
There was a long pause as the girl waited for a response.
“Ma’am?”
“Yes. Yes, the catalog would be great,” Cait said finally, reciting her address. Then, screwing up her courage, she added, “The, um, family mentioned in the ads—you know, ‘From our family to yours.’ I wondered, how many people are in that family?”
“It’s a family of five, ma’am. Mr. and Mrs. Ellis, of course, and their adult children Jacob, Marianne and that rascal Garrett.” The cheery girl’s voice rose an octave as she giggled his name.
“Uh, thanks,” Cait murmured. She let the phone sink into its cradle.
Damn him for lying to her. After everything she told him…
In business, he’d said of his parents. In business, indeed. A multimillion-dollar corporation kind of business. And he’d been questioning her about not choosing a lucrative profession.
How did he manage to keep that juicy piece of background information from the small-town rumor mill? She knew he’d been hiding something, but even she hadn’t expected it to be something like this. It was more than an understatement. It was a huge lie of omission.
Everyone knew of the successful Ellis Corporation. Macauley Ellis, Garrett’s father, had been featured often enough in Opulence magazine to have his own display rack. She should know. It was Fredric’s favorite publication. He read it with the fervor a devout minister reserved for reading scripture.
As for Garrett, she couldn’t care less if he was as wealthy as a Rockefeller. More troubling was that he was some East Coast corporate heir masquerading as a small-town financial director. He could leave at any time with little or no consequence to himself. For the district’s sake, she hoped he wouldn’t act irresponsibly.
But how could she forgive and forget how he’d lied to her today? How he’d probed into her family life, asking all kinds of questions, yet hadn’t been willing to share an enormous part of his personal history with her? He had to know she wasn’t some fortune hunter after him. God, he was the one who’d made the first move. He nearly kissed her!
And, even after he knew how she despised being misled, even after he knew she recognized his name from somewhere, he pretended he was just some average person. Someone like her. But all the while he must have been laughing at her ignorance of his background, hiding behind his ultra-suave veneer.
Damn him, he was just like Fredric.
Another tall, dark, handsome liar who’d snicker about her behind her back and make her miserable until he moved on to “better things.” Never. Ever. Again.
She wove her fingers through her hair and pulled, cringing. Garrett might be more subtle, might even be more personable than Fredric, but he had the deceitful part nailed down. And, for reasons she couldn’t quite put her thumb on, he made her ten times as angry.
Her first impressions of the man had been correct after all. She could never let her guard down with him. But, oh, if he thought he was going to try another slick evasion move on her, he didn’t know a single thing about the woman he was dealing with.
Her friends weren’t going to have to bribe her with ice cream to dig into his life any more. She’d get him back for this. No additional incentives needed.
***
Garrett stood outside Milwaukee’s Mitchell International Airport and speed-dialed his brother’s number on his cell phone.
“Yo?” Jacob said, clear as a bell one thousand miles away.
“Yo, yourself. Listen, I just heard about the leg. How are you?”
“Ah, I’ll heal. Damned Jet Ski. But this is nothing. You, little brother, are in real trouble. Mom and Dad want you home.”
“Really? Did Dad tell you to call me on his behalf?” Garrett couldn’t quash the smidgen of hope that rose at the thought.
Instead of answering, Jacob asked, “How the hell could you leave the East Coast to go live in Wyoming?”
“Wisconsin.”
“Wherever,” Jacob said. “Point is, we’ve barely seen you since last New Year’s Eve and Mom and Dad want you back in Connecticut.”
“They’ve got you.” Which was so true even Jacob couldn’t shoot off a quick comeback. After all, who needed a second son to run the family company when the first son did such a spectacular job? Even in a hip-to-toe cast.
Jacob moaned loudly on the line.
Concern pulsed through Garrett’s body. “You okay?”
“Oh-ohhhh,” Jacob groaned. “Mindy was expecting a romantic evening for our three-week anniversary tomorrow. A. Very. Romantic. Evening.”
Garrett rolled his eyes. “She’ll live. If she loves you, she can wait until you’re not quite so bruised.”
His brother scoffed at this. “Love has nothing to do with it. You know women are only after our stock portfolios. I’m talking short-term erotica, Bro. High performance. And I’m at my peak.”
“You’re well over a decade beyond your peak, Jacob.”
“That age seventeen thing is an old wives’ tale. Now listen, have fun on your Midwestern adventure for a few days then get your butt back to New Haven before Mom has another conniption.”
No mention of Dad, huh? Something bitter clenched at Garrett’s throat. The hurt of his father’s disapproval seeped back in, hard as he tried to shut it out. He couldn’t go back. Still, he hated to let his brother down.
“I can’t,” he managed to say.
“Why? And this better be good.”
“You know why. But besides that, it’s because I’ve got a job to do. Because I made a promise. Because I’m under contract. Take your pick.”
Jacob huffed on the line. “Nothing against the school, but so what? Our company’s an international phenomenon. We need you more than some minuscule elementary district in Wichita.”
“Wisconsin.”
“Right, right.”
“And it’s not that tiny, Jacob. We’re close to Milwaukee—”
“Brewers, Bucks, beer and Happy Days,” Jacob chanted.
“—and if I solve the financial problems here, I can work with larger school districts next year or maybe a few universities.”
“How exciting,” his brother said in his driest voice.
“To me, yes, it is.”
Jacob sighed. “Well, okay then, but I won’t give up on you.”
“Oh, I know you won’t. Just take care of yourself so you can get back to being the Ellis Corporation’s latest, greatest CEO.”
There was a pause. “Truly, Bro, we could share this,” Jacob murmured. “No matter what anyone says.”
Garrett cringed at the idea of turning down the brother he’d looked up to for thirty years, but it had to be done. “Thanks, but no thanks. You’re the man who gets to wear the company crown. And it looks good on you.”
“But—”
“Look.” Garrett cut him off, unwilling to have this same argument again. “Stop worrying about me. I’ve got my own empire.”
His brother sighed again. “Yeah, I know. Out in Winnipeg. All right, catch you later. And tell Marianne I said hi.” Jacob hung up.
“Bye, big brother,” Garrett said to the dial tone. “I will. And it’s Wisconsin.”
Fifteen minutes later, Garrett was thrown to the floor of Terminal Three by a force he’d long ago ceased trying to tame.
“Hiya, Sis,” he said, the words muffled by the fuchsia sweatshirt she carried, a sleeve of which happened to be caught in the corner of his mouth. His head connected with the turf-like carpeting, making a dreary thud.
“How’s my favorite big brother?” Marianne asked, grinning as she brushed the carpet dust from her jeans and began to stand up.
“Forget the flattery. I’ve heard you say that to Jacob, too. And I was fine until about ten seconds ago. Now I think I’ve got a concussion.” He rubbed the back of his head.
“Oh, you. Don’t pretend you didn’t know I’d be excited to see you. Finally. It’s been ages.” She punched his arm in the familiar playful manner she’d perfected when they were kids, but something in her eyes looked serious. He felt a very adult foreboding.
“Marianne—”
“Don’t feed me any of your excuses, G. I’m not Mom, and I’m not going to be waylaid by your pretty speeches about dedication to this latest venture of yours. I know the financial director thing is a big deal, and I’m happy for you. I really am.”
“But?”
“But Mom and Dad miss you. Both of them.”
“Is that a direct quote from Dad, Marianne, or are you just interpreting?” He damn well already knew the answer, though.
She looked down in a move of classic gaze evasion.
“Listen, kiddo. Just because I don’t want to help run the family company, it doesn’t mean I don’t want to be a part of the family. Isn’t there a way to have the latter without the former?”
Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know. But I do know Mom and Dad need you, and they want to see you sometime soon. Hiding out in Wisconsin isn’t going to make up for what happened last year.”
“Really beating around the bush tonight, aren’t you, Sis? What else is on your agenda? Gonna tell me I’m getting too fat? My hairline’s receding? Maybe I no longer have that winning personality you adored so much during our ill-fated youth?”
“Stop being so dramatic, although—” She tilted her head and scanned his torso. “Maybe you did put on a pound or two.”
“Thanks.”
“Anytime, G. So, it’s late. You taking me back to this quaint village of yours? Ridgeburg Grove?”
“Ridgewood Grove and, no, I’m not. My condo’s in New Brighton, remember? And don’t get any funny ideas about inspecting the school. Or surprising me with a mural for my office wall. Or telling nasty stories about me to my new colleagues. You’re not allowed within ten miles of the town.”
“We’ll see about that,” she said, slipping her arm around his waist and squeezing—hard. “I’ve missed you, Garrett.”
He kissed the top of her head, picked up her carry-on luggage and nodded toward the baggage claim area. “Missed you, too, Sis.”
***
“They’re coming. They’re coming. The children are coming!” Jenna announced the next morning, breathless from her sprint down the hall.
“We’ve got a few more minutes, don’t we?” Cait scanned the classroom, frantically thrusting a handful of newly sharpened pencils into a mug on her desk. A loud bell rang. Eight o’clock.
“Aaaahh!” the two teachers shrieked.
They race-walked out of the room toward the gym just as the mad charge of scurrying feet reverberated through the foyer.
Cait took her place in the second grade section next to Loni and readied herself to meet her new group of second graders.
She eyed each one of the twenty-five children as they scampered, skipped, darted or meandered toward her line.
A blond boy and his grinning buddy were already getting into mischief, snickering over a toy one had stashed in his backpack.
A little girl with the hugest blue eyes wrinkled the shirtsleeves of her mother while squeezing a last farewell.
A couple of girls with sparkly sunglasses and Barbie T-shirts discussed a new Disney flick.
A heavy-set boy near the back of the line clutched his Batman lunchbox. He sat on the floor, brown eyes cast down. Cait felt a surge of compassion and wished she could give him a hug.
A second bell rang. The children squealed and stood to attention.
Ronald Jaspers tore himself away from his greeting station at the gym’s entrance. “Welcome everyone,” he intoned, patting the sweat off his pallid brow, glancing around the room and projecting his authority to anyone in doubt. “We have a thrilling new year in store for us.”
He paused and motioned for everybody to clap. “For those who may not know me, I’m Mr. Jaspers, Ridgewood Grove’s principal, and all of us here—” he waved his hands in the direction of the teachers, “join together in making every day of this school year an exciting day.”
She watched the way Ronald scanned the room while the parents applauded politely. Did he even notice the four frightened kindergarteners sobbing in their mothers’ arms? One distraught youngster had to be escorted out to the hall, but nothing seemed to stop the droning of his inspirational, first-day discourse.
After saying the Pledge together, Ronald dismissed the crowd.
In the section to Cait’s right, Loni set to work perfecting the straight lines for which her classes were notorious. At Cait’s left, Marlene flocked her first graders together with a waving motion. And straight ahead, Cait saw Jenna’s third grade class bouncing out of the gym in merry imitation of their enthusiastic new teacher.
She chuckled, gathering her own class into a respectable line. “I’m Miss Walsh,” she told them. “I’m delighted to be your second grade teacher. Let’s go back to the classroom and get to know each other better.” Then she gave them an obvious wink. “I’ve got lots to tell you, and I brought treats.”
The children’s cheer went up behind her as she made her way out of the gym and down the hall. She saw Garrett, ever attentive, as they passed by the office. Her chin rose a notch. He waved in greeting.
She was calm.
She was in control.
She was onto him.
Mr. Fruit and Nut must have sensed it, too, because, when their eyes met, he wore an odd expression—a combination of confusion, surprise and something else. Something she hoped was one man’s unparalleled fear at having angered a woman.
***
“Hi, I’m Marianne,” a bubbly, russet-haired lady said to Cait at lunchtime when the kids were still at recess. She thrust out an enthusiastic hand and her light-brown eyes did a sweep of the classroom. Cait could tell she wasn’t one to overlook a detail.
The resemblance was striking. Even without the benefit of hearing a last name, Cait knew an Ellis when she saw one. She took in the vision of the willowy stranger, grasped the outstretched palm and introduced herself.
“Great classroom,” Marianne gushed. “G said your room was like a piece of artwork and, for once, he was right on target.”
He talked about her classroom to his sister?
“Thank you. Are you looking for Garrett, umm, G?”
“Heck, no. I’m hiding out from him, but Sonja let me slip in. He’s forbidden me to come to the school. As if I need to listen to a word that slacker says!” She laughed so zealously it seemed she might topple over. “Big Brother’s always watching me back home. Now it’s payback time. Got any dirt on him?”
Cait busied herself with a few pages on her desk, warming to the lively visitor but also struggling to look more indifferent than she felt. What could she say? Everything about Marianne’s brother touched a nerve, but the things most surprising to her wouldn’t be news to his sister. Mutely, she shook her head.
“Too bad,” Marianne said. “Maybe you’ll think of something later.” She shot Cait a devilish grin. “I’ll be sure to give you my card, just in case.”
They heard footsteps echoing down the hallway and turned expectant glances toward the door as the man in question strode into the room.
“Cait—” Garrett said, then stopped and glowered at his sister. “How the hell did you get here? I thought I locked you in the condo. You had watercolor books, enough food for a month, seven brand new DVDs—”
“Next time use stronger locks. Ever hear of something called a bus, G? The experience was so interesting. This nice old lady in the building next to yours explained to me all about how the red line works. First it goes to the businesses in downtown New Brighton, then it stops at Clairmont—”
“Oh, shut up, Marianne.” He scored his fingers through his hair and exhaled very, very slowly before raising a thoughtful gaze in Cait’s direction. “This is my sister.”
“We’ve met,” Cait replied. Seeing Garrett’s discomfort made her spirits soar. Not so suave now, was he? She awarded Marianne her most brilliant smile. Marianne sparkled in return. Two against one.
He looked from one to the other, shifting his weight as he leaned against the doorjamb. “Time for you to go now, Sis. Don’t you have to poison red apples or cook up an eye-of-newt brew somewhere?”
“Nope. My afternoon’s pretty open.” Marianne stood a little straighter, crossed her arms and shot him a glare.
Cait’s decision to jump in was instantaneous. She took a step forward, pointing toward Marianne but looking at Garrett.
“Your sister and I were just discussing…art,” she said. “I hoped to enlist her help in the development of some ideas I had.” She glanced at Marianne, raising an eyebrow in question.
Garrett’s sister gave Cait a cheerful thumbs-up, then scoffed at the displeased figure blocking the doorway.
“I see,” Garrett said, scowling.
“You’re welcome to join us,” Cait said. “I was thinking of making an autumnal centerpiece for the back table. One overflowing with fresh fruit. A handful of nuts here or there would be a nice touch, too. What do you think…G?” She gave him her most mocking smile. He looked like he was going to strangle her. Then again, maybe she was second in line.
“You told her?” he roared, his accusing glare focused on Marianne.
“He told you?” said his sister at the same time, staring at Cait with a look of growing admiration. “Wow, you must be special. He never tells anyone.”
Garrett’s expression fell just short of murderous. Marianne looked gleeful. Cait figured she better step back into the fray before someone got hurt.
“No one told me anything,” she said. “I just put a few pieces together last night, that’s all.” She stole another look at Garrett, whose face became a study in un-readability, then added gently, “Everyone I know thinks they’re great baskets.”
“Oh, they are great,” Marianne said. She swung a perceptive glance between her brother and Cait, struggling, it seemed, to suppress her natural mirth. “Don’t be too hard on him for withholding information, Cait. Big Brother here was never much into the family business.” She threw a casual arm over Cait’s shoulders and winked at her brother.
Garrett rewarded her with a very thin smile. “It’s probably wise for you to line up allies while you can, Sis, considering you’re still in big, big trouble. Your junk’s lying all over my place and, unless you meet me in my office in ten minutes, you’d better have an arrangement with that Nice Old Lady In The Next Building ‘cause that’s where I’ll be dropping off your stuff.”
He leaned in toward Marianne. “Catch your act later.” He was halfway out the door when he swiveled back, tempering his expression only slightly. “Good talking to you yesterday, Cait.”
The two women waited until the sound of his footsteps had diminished to a distant set of thumps before laughing openly.
“Poor, poor G,” Marianne said, her body wracked with giggles. “I’ve always been such a trial for him.”
Cait downshifted to a simple smile, relieved by this latest turn of events for some reason she wasn’t prepared to analyze. “If he carries through on his threat, you can stay with me.”
“Thanks, but G’s not as bad as he likes to appear. He’s just a little extra sensitive about our family’s company. I think he was worried I might spill the beans.”
“Why is that?” Cait asked. “Why doesn’t he tell anyone about it? I’ll admit, I was pretty surprised by the omission.”
“Long story.” Marianne shrugged. “I found my niche in the Ellis Corporation by doing graphics for the Nutty Fruit. I love what I do and could take on even more responsibility.” Her eyes looked wistful. “But it was never a clear path for G. Growing up as a younger brother to Jacob was difficult. Jacob’s gotten most of our dad’s attention, and he’s more involved in running the company. Jacob’s a lawyer, you know.” She paused to flick her eyes upward. “He thinks he’s pretty hot stuff. Despite this, G always adored him, trailed after him for three decades. But during the holidays this past year there was a big argument. G got more distant from our folks and he left New Haven…”
Marianne’s gaze was lost in the colorful pattern of a spelling-vocabulary bulletin board for several long seconds. She bowed her head. “Anyway, Mom and Dad want him back home, or at least in the general vicinity. But he’s still too angry or too stubborn or something, and I’m stuck trying to be peacemaker again.”
For a split second Cait thought she detected a trace of bitterness in her voice. But just as quickly it was gone.
“I love both my brothers, you know, but even when we were kids I was always a little more worried about G,” Marianne said.
“It must be hard to be caught in the middle. To try to deal with situations where family members are talking to you but not to each other,” Cait said.
“Exactly. In some ways it’s like losing someone.” She paused then looked up at Cait with startled eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. G told me you’d lost your father. I didn’t mean to put this Ellis feud in the same category as that.”
“It’s okay,” Cait said, surprised again that Garrett had spoken about her so freely to his sister.
Marianne seemed to sense this. She grinned. “G talked about all the new staff he’d met, but your name came up a few too many times for it to have been a coincidence. Look,” she said, laughing, “as you might’ve guessed, I’m not shy. My flight back to Philly leaves at six a.m. tomorrow, so this was my only chance to get out here and see the school. And also to meet you, Cait.” Her eyes crinkled in merriment. “Now, were you at all serious about wanting a fall centerpiece?”
Five minutes later Marianne was out the door, pressing her business card in Cait’s hand, promising to keep in touch and to send her a special fruit and nut basket for the classroom.
“Ciao. Call me if you need anything else,” she said, waving, “or if you ever wanna hear about the stupid things G did when he was a teen. I’ve got stories!”
Cait grinned, pocketing the card. For a couple of lovely seconds, the imposing new financial director didn’t seem half as powerful as his little sister.
And this knowledge gave her a few admittedly devious ideas.