Chapter Ten

“I thought for sure you were on your way to military school after that stunt.” Tucked away in the corner of her favorite restaurant, Maggie laughed so hard, watery eyes threatened to overflow.

“After all those years of bucking the threats of sending me off to military school—”

“And me off to a boarding school in Switzerland.”

“And you to Switzerland. Father was shocked as hell when I graduated high school and enlisted in the navy.” Anything was better than living under his father’s asphyxiating thumb.

“He missed you.”

“Right. Like an old tomcat misses being tormented by an elusive mouse.”

“Dad didn’t know any other way.” Maggie reached across the table and covered his free hand with hers. “Maybe if Mom had been around…”

He and Maggie had more memories of their mom than their sisters. Heather was only three, when a routine hysterectomy went tragically wrong and took Lydia Stanford Maplewood’s life. Rose, at five, seemed to feel the loss of her mother most heavily, but he knew at ten Maggie felt the loss more deeply than even he did. She understood what the other children would never have, and she’d done a damn fine job of stepping in and mothering them all. Especially since there was little doubt Ironman Maplewood didn’t have a clue what to do with his children.

But John had no intention of wandering down that road. “I never did understand why he broke down and bought you that Mustang.”

Maggie smiled mischievously and casually lifted her napkin to the corners of her mouth. “It might have had something to do with him accidentally overhearing my conversation with Trudy about how Bobby’s grandmother Sandy really owned the trailer park, and, once Bobby was twenty-one, it would pass to him, and then we’d be rich, collecting all those rents.”

John had to think back for a minute. “Wasn’t his grandmother a cleaning lady?”

Maggie nodded.

“And Father knew that his dad worked as a framer.”

“He did.”

“Then why did that make any difference?”

“Did you know that the land for the trailer park was owned by a Sandra King?”

John shook his head. “Quite a coincidence.”

“Not really.” Maggie leaned back. “Bobby’s grandmother’s name was Elizabeth.”

“You little stinker.” God, he loved his sister.

“Come on. We all know Bobby was a good, hardworking kid.”

John nodded. “And he’s a good hardworking man now too.”

“The only thing Father held against him was that he was poor and, therefore, must only want me for my money.”

“That wasn’t fair of him.” He wasn’t going to tell her how their father had every good reason to worry. While Bobby King may have been a straight-arrow kid, John had run into more than enough women looking to be trophy wives to his money. In the navy he’d just been F. John Maplewood—Petty Officer. It took a while before he realized the downside of running a successful world-renowned company. Bill Gates didn’t know how lucky he was to have married before he made his fortune. Or maybe he did.

After two days with hardly a word from anyone, John almost didn’t realize when his phone clink with a message. Taking a quick glance, he read the heads-up from Annette that everyone was settling in at the guesthouse. “Listen. This has been wonderful, but what do you say we do an after-dinner drink at the house? I noticed Annette has a superb collection of flavored teas.”

Maggie shook her head at her brother. “Not to mention a superb collection of lagers. It will be nice to sit on the lanai and have a quiet drink.”

Having his three sisters in one place was likely to be a lot of things, but he seriously doubted quiet would be one of them. He waved the waiter down and, with a flick of his wrist, gestured for the check.

“Do you want to stop and pick up some ice cream?” Maggie slipped her purse over her shoulder. “There’s a Persian place that makes the best bastani.”

“Have you seen the fridge at the guesthouse? Annette has it stocked with enough groceries and munchies to feed an army for a year.”

“That does sound like her.” Maggie laughed.

John dropped some bills on the table, nodded a thank-you to the attentive kid who had been their waiter and then waved his sister past him. Her favorite restaurant had turned out to be only a stone’s throw from the Deluca house.

Maggie pulled into the long driveway. “We’ll probably have to get you a car of your own while you’re here.”

Now was not the time to debate with his sister the length of his time in Kona. There were at least two, most likely giddy, women ready to pounce the moment they walked through the doorway. “We’ll see.”

“I don’t like the sound of that. You’ve already mentally got one foot back in California.”

“I didn’t say that.” There was no need for a key; he knew the door wasn’t locked, but, for his sister’s sake, he went through the motions and shoved open the door. “I said we’ll—”

“Oh, my God.”

John had no idea which of his three sisters had squealed the loudest. He closed the door, leaned back and crossed his ankles. It had been years since the four of them had been together in one place. He’d been the first to move west to start fresh, and years later Maggie had followed. Heather and Rose had stayed on the East Coast. For a few minutes he was a teen surrounded by his sisters’ prom-night happenings. Squealing, laughing, hugging, and tossing back and forth the occasionally comprehensible phrase of “You look great” and “Gorgeous.” Right along with “Love the dress, the hair, the nails, the shoes.” Same old, same old.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out, still smiling at the reunion that had moved to the sofa. “Hello?”

“Thought you might like to know,” Evelyn said in a rush, “I just heard from Howard.”

“And?”

“He’s given her till Monday.”

“How generous.”

“Hey, you said no pressure, just a request. He’s pushing back the announcement by three days for you.”

“Noted. What did she say?”

“According to him—no problem.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Told you.”

“You did. I just hope she’s everything you think she is.”

“She is.” Once again that something-good sensation shot up his spine. Perhaps she might be even better.

* * *

From the moment Ava walked through the door this afternoon, she’d been at her desk fine-tuning the requested designs. Every so often her mother would come in with a fresh cup of tea. Ava had almost forgotten the familiar scenario. Pulling an all-nighter for a final exam or project, she’d look up and see her mother bringing in a warm drink. Never interrupting, never lecturing, just supporting. Ava really needed to remember to quit fussing at her mother so much. When a plate of chicken fried rice appeared in front of her now, she almost grinned up at her mom, and then she realized she hadn’t heard any footsteps. “What are you doing here, Billy?”

“I’m picking up my wife.”

“Angela?”

A soft rumble churned in his throat, before he bit back a smile. “How many wives do you think I have? Yes, Angela.”

“I didn’t know she was here.”

“She didn’t want to bother you. I filled in at the last minute for the night dive and didn’t want her home alone.”

“You know, pregnant women stay home alone all the time.” She dropped her pencil on the tabletop and stretched her arms.

“The doctor said she could go into labor any minute.”

“I stand corrected.” She let out a short yawn. “Women who are nine months’ pregnant stay home alone all the time.”

“And, thank God, Kara wasn’t alone when she went into labor.”

Okay, he had her there. Kara’s labor had been a little sudden and extremely eventful. Though, in hindsight, it also qualified as a bit hilarious. But Ava could definitely understand how it would make her brother a little skittish about leaving his wife home alone. “Touché.”

“Angela says you got some opportunity and danced out of our house earlier. Mom says you haven’t come up for food.” He leaned over the table to scan her drawings, while she took a bite of supper. “You’re going to get it,” he assured.

“It would be nice.” She looked at the plans again. “I have to admit, it would be so cool to get this, when E&S wasn’t even asked to submit.”

“Not that I don’t think you deserve it, but why were you asked? I thought you didn’t have that kind of connection yet?”

“I don’t.” Ava set down her plate. On the fringe of her consciousness, she’d wondered the same thing. Still, totally engrossed in her deadline, she’d managed to ignore it. Until now. “I have no idea how I got in and frankly don’t know that I care.” At least she hoped she didn’t.

“Is it legit?”

After she’d come down from her initial high, the same thing had occurred to her, so she’d researched Mr. Howard Dempsey and matched the phone number to the one in her cell. Then, just to convince herself it wasn’t some prank, she called the number and thanked the man for the opportunity and confirmed receipt of all the data. “Yep, it’s on the up-and-up.”

But she still wondered how in the hell did she ever wind up as a last-minute candidate?