Come Fly With Me (17 page)

“Of course he is.” Avery reached for a cookie. “That’s just the fun part to focus on. Mick’s a great guy and always has been. In high school, he used to tutor everyone in physics.”

“Physics?” Fascinated at this glimpse into his past, Grier reached for her own cookie. “Really?”

“Oh yeah. By the middle of the year it was evident Mick understood it better than the teacher. Small town and all that. I think it has something to do with the flying.”

“Well, that makes sense.” Grier smacked her head lightly. “I’d hope someone who flew planes for a living understood the properties of physics.”

“Anyway, my point is, even back then, Mick was
quick to share his knowledge. Quick to include everyone.”

Sloan let out a small sigh. “That’s so sexy. Why don’t more people understand that? Inclusion beats exclusion every time.”

“He also ran errands for some of Mary’s older neighbors. Still does. He’s just the guy who jumps in and does what needs to be done.”

Another piece of her heart crumpled to a hopeless pile of dust at further evidence of just how wonderful Mick was. “He’s a good man.”

Avery smiled and reached for another cookie. Although she said nothing, it would have been impossible to miss the
I told you so
from a mile away.

“So, catch me up on what I’ve missed.” Sloan resettled herself on the bed. “Like for starters, what was Kate doing in the bar with you and Jason?”

“You’ve got me there.” Grier couldn’t resist another cookie. “I told him I’d meet him at four and when I showed up, the two of them were sitting there.”

“An oddly poetic match,” Avery added.

Grier leaned forward. “Want to know something? I actually had the exact same thought. Well, not the snarky poetic part, but the match part. They’re quite attractive together.”

Sloan’s tone was careful, clearly a nod to her earlier haste. “That doesn’t bother you?”

“Well, if he pulled the same sort of shit on her that he did on me, that would make me go all big sister on his ass. But assuming that was a one-time fuckup”—Grier paused—“which I still think it was…”

It was Avery’s turn to wave a hand. “Did I actually just hear you defend Kate?”

“I guess so.”

“Why?”

“Well, because—” Grier broke off. How could she explain it to them when she couldn’t even explain it to herself? “Just because. She’s my sister and blood’s thicker and all that mushy shit.”

“Fair enough.” Avery nodded.

Grier kicked her foot out as she got comfortable and connected with the end table next to the bed. A heavy thud had her up and moving, only to see that a large padded envelope lay on the floor. “What’s that?”

“I forgot. We brought it up before.” Sloan leaned down to pick up the package. “Avery got it earlier today.”

Grier reached for it, an odd charge shooting through her fingertips as she touched the package. “Who’s it from?”

“I’m not sure,” Avery said as she sat up. “Chris took it. Want me to call downstairs?”

“Please.”

Grier turned the padded envelope over in her hands as Avery made the call. Those odd sparks continued to fire up beneath her skin, growing in intensity.

She abstractedly heard Avery say, “Really?” before she replaced the phone in the cradle after a quick thanks.

“Who’s it from?” Even as she asked the question, Grier knew she held something big in her hands.

“Your aunt.”

*    *    *

Kate finished scrubbing off her makeup and dried her face. She’d always taken comfort in ritual and that feeling had only grown since losing her father.

Order amidst chaos.

Every night, she kept to the same routine. She changed her clothes, then carefully brushed her teeth and finished by washing her face.

So why couldn’t she find any peace in the ceremony of it tonight?

On a heavy sigh, she burrowed under the covers.

She knew exactly why. And the reason sported Italian loafers, a killer smile and a heart that beat for her sister.

How could it be even remotely possible that the one man she’d had more than a passing interest in could be Grier’s fiancé?

Well, ex-fiancé if she’d put the pieces together correctly.

But even if she had, Jason Shriver clearly wasn’t in the middle of Alaska to see an ex. He was here to win Grier back.

A cold sensation unfurled in her stomach as she thought about Grier. The feeling was less about her sister and more about the way she’d treated her since the woman had arrived in Indigo.

And while she’d like to chalk it up to anger, pure and simple, Kate knew it was something more. She might smile and offer polite platitudes to most everyone else, but she made it a rule never to lie to herself.

Grier was a threat.

A threat to her relationship with her father and the bond they’d shared.

Or so she’d thought.

As Kate had observed Grier over the past few months, her thoughts had begun to change. It had been subtle at first—the woman’s clumsy attempts at striking up a tentative friendship had been earnest and more than a little sweet.

But when Sloan, Grier’s friend, came to town and the two had struck up a threesome with Avery Marks, Kate had actually grown a little jealous.

Every time she saw them together, the three of them looked like they were having fun.

Snowball fights on the town square or laughter over a bottle of wine at the Indigo Blue or coffee at the Jitters.

Grier
had
sisters. Of the heart. And Kate had increasingly found herself wishing she could take part.

The phone rang and she jumped as the sound punctuated the silence. Her anxiety ratcheted another notch higher as she saw her aunt’s name on the caller ID.

“Aunt Maeve. What’s wrong?”

Her father’s sister lived past the edge of town. Maeve had spent most of her life out there after her husband died, puttering around and keeping to herself. Even with the short distance between them, Kate had to make the weekly effort to go out to see her as the woman rarely made it into town.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Well, good. How are you? Is everything all right with the house? This latest storm hit us pretty hard today.”

“I’m good. I’ve got what I need.”

Kate smiled to herself. Didn’t she know it. Her aunt had a stocked pantry full of enough food to see her into the next millennium. Her husband had set her up well financially and Jonas had seen to some home improvements a few summers back.

Barring an unexpected illness, Maeve was set up comfortably enough.

Kate struggled for something to say. While they found enough to talk about on their weekly visits, her aunt usually called once a year and that was to decline their Thanksgiving dinner invitation. “I’ll be out to visit on Thursday. Can I bring you anything?”

“No, I’m fine. I’ll e-mail you if I think of anything.”

“All right.” Kate paused a moment. While the urge was strong, she knew hanging up would be a mistake. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“It is, Katie. But I need to tell you something. And I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Kate sat straight up in bed. “What is it?”

“A
notebook and sixteen letters.” Grier laid the last faded letter on top of the stack.

“Don’t forget the letter that came with the package,” Avery added.

That one looked fresh and had her name on it, but Grier hadn’t opened it yet. She couldn’t explain why, but she wanted some time alone with the contents of the package.

As if reading her mind, Sloan patted her shoulder. “We’ll let you get to it. We’re here if you need to talk.”

Avery added a hand to her other shoulder. “Whenever you need us.”

Her throat tightened at the show of support and Grier stood to grab both of them in a three-way hug. “You guys are the best. I’m probably just being a loon. I’m sure there’s not much here.”

“It doesn’t matter what’s here.” Sloan patted her back. “It’s yours to discover. We’ll talk to you later.”

“And we’ll leave the cookies,” Avery added with a wink.

The two of them slipped from the room and Grier was left with the past.

Unable to wait another moment, she slit open the letter and pulled out a fresh sheet of paper, covered in neat, even rows of cursive writing.

She saw Maeve’s name first, larger than the other lines in a heavy scrawl at the bottom of the page, and thought about her aunt.

Walker had told her early on she had an aunt—her father’s sister. She’d tried making an outreach several times but hadn’t gotten anywhere, despite leaving phone messages and sending e-mails. Although the urge to go out to the woman’s house had been strong, she knew where she wasn’t wanted and she hadn’t been all that willing to face yet another cold, unfriendly face.

Especially when that face belonged to a blood relative.

She’d also asked around about Maeve and had gotten more than a few raised eyebrows. The term “recluse” was the kindest she’d heard, with “a little off” bringing up the rear. No one had used the word “crazy” outright, but it hadn’t been too big a leap to make to pull that from the subtext.

On a sigh, she settled back in her chair.

Might as well see if she really was as crazy as the common wisdom suggested.

Grier folded the letter and set it aside, afraid of getting it wet with her tears.

She glanced at the faded letters and the leather-bound journal. As her gaze danced over the address on the letters, she realized it was her mother’s handwriting. Curiosity rose up, swamping her as she reached for the one that lay on top.

A New York City postmark ran along the top edge and the date was about two months after her birth.

With shaking hands, she slid the note out and saw the baby photo of herself, worn and slightly crinkled, as if it had been touched too often. Setting the photo aside, she unfolded the letter and saw her mother’s small, efficient script.

The letter was short and to the point.

Whatever Grier had expected, this cold, horrible note from her mother wasn’t it.

Since this whole mess had started, Patrice had artfully managed to stay above it. She’d refused to engage in conversation about “her past” and she’d been unwilling to offer any assistance, including a signed affidavit or any form of testimony confirming she and Jonas Winston had conceived a child.

Although hurt, Grier had thought it unkind of her to ask her mother to open up her past grief and she had agreed to do this on her own. She’d been willing to fight this battle alone because she’d believed Patrice hid the scars of a deep and painful past.

But this?

Her gaze alighted on the letter once more.

I need to ask that you respect my wishes and stay away.

Grier had always thought her mother cold and distant, but she’d at least believed something hopeful lived within her. Something that gave her a life of purpose.

How wrong she had been.

Avery wiped down a table, delighted the small crowd who’d been in the bar earlier had all left. Susan had covered things while she was upstairs with Grier and Sloan, and it was easy enough to collect the last of the glasses and get everything locked up for the night.

She moved to another table and heard Susan’s voice from where it echoed out of the office. Something struck her as slightly off. While she wasn’t an unhappy person, Susan was pretty even-keeled and not much got her chattering away in a high, excited voice.

Except Roman.

Or showing off pictures of her grandchildren, courtesy of Roman’s younger sister, Riley.

It had to be a story about the kids. Maybe Madison was getting the hang of potty training or Connor had had a good game of peewee hockey.