Family Matters (5 page)

“Do you have receipts for all this?” Matt asked. “Did you get the okay from your investors before you spent
their
money?”

Uncle Bren stepped back a half pace. “They're fine with whatever I do.”

“No matter how ineptly you do it?”

“Matt, really!” Kerry moved past him and focused on Uncle Bren. “Where are you planning to store all these packages?”

He shrugged.

“You haven't even thought
that
far in advance, have you?” Matt demanded. Shaking his head, he turned to Kerry. “I rest my case. And forget what I said about running a bingo game—this guy couldn't carry off a bake sale if they were giving the goods away.”

“Hold on, lad—”

“I'm not your lad,” Matt snarled.

Kerry winced but stood her ground. Maybe once they got the shouting over with, they'd have everything out of their systems.

False hope, and she knew it. If she didn't keep them away from each other, Matt would be the one going to jail. For murder.

No matter how much it hurt her to admit it, Matt was right. Uncle Bren didn't have the skill—or, more honestly put, the stick-to-it-ness—to run a project like this one. The amusement park restoration would turn into a lost cause. So would any chance of his giving the residents their money back.

As the yelling continued, she closed her eyes, trying to conjure up visions of Paris…Florence…Milan….

The images wouldn't come.

She'd lost them, just as she'd lost the fellowship years ago when her family had run into the “wee bit of bother” with their landlord.
That
fiasco had resulted in her canceling all her plans to help them straighten things out.

Not this time. She wouldn't make that sacrifice again. They could have this last week from her, that was it.

She reopened her eyes and focused on Uncle Bren. Wrinkles framed his face. His cheeks sagged. In a mere twenty-four hours, he seemed to have aged twenty years.

“You've not got half a clue—” he was protesting.

“And you haven't got a chance in hell,” Matt cut in, “of succeeding with this insane idea.”

“You're right,” she said, as startled as they were by the words coming from her.

What else could she say? After one brief look at Uncle Bren and one even quicker look into her heart, she knew she was doomed.

She couldn't change her family.

She couldn't change herself.

Even if it meant having to give up her summer. Having to
turn down the fellowship she coveted. And, once again, having to walk away from a chance to fulfill her lifelong dream.

“You're right,” she said again, looking from one man to the other, finally letting her gaze rest on Matt. “Uncle Bren won't be overseeing this project.
I
will.”

Maeve MacBride nodded approvingly at the stopwatch she'd used to time her early-morning jog across Lakeside Village's tree-shaded common area to Olivia Lawrence's apartment.

“Not bad for a youngster of eighty-three,” Maeve said to the younger woman. “At this rate, I'll win the next Senior Sprint running backward.”

Olivia didn't reply.

The lack of response worried Maeve. She didn't like being beholden to anyone. But she needed Olivia. The only consolation was, Olivia needed her even more.

Maeve scanned their surroundings. The clubhouse sat squarely in the middle of the common area, which was bordered on the east and west by individual homes and on the north by a squat, redbrick apartment building. The south edge of the common sloped down to the lake, now mirror-bright and blinding from the reflected rays of the rising sun.

Rainbow's End had disappeared in a shimmering haze.

She looked back to the apartment. Olivia owned a one-bedroom unit on the top floor, plenty of space—in Maeve's opinion—for a woman who lived alone.

Only she wasn't exactly living alone this morning.

Matthew Lawrence's Jeep sat in the visitors' parking lot in the space closest to Olivia's front door.

“Where's that lad of yours?” Maeve asked, trying not to sound suspicious.

“In the shower.” The other woman glanced quickly toward the building and back again.

Maeve frowned. “Now, don't tell me you're coming down with a case of cold feet.” With the amount of effort she'd put into this plan, she didn't need Matthew's doting ma to mess things up.

Olivia shook her head. “No, it's not that. I just never thought Matthew would take all this as hard as he has. I should have known, though. He's always so vocal about anything he sees as an injustice.”

“He was loud enough about it the other day, for sure.” She frowned again. Olivia hadn't said anything about his stubbornness when she was singing the boy's praises.

Albie Gardner's interference at the clubhouse had thrown a spanner into things, too, but nothing she couldn't handle. As long as she kept Olivia on track.

“You know what you're supposed to do?” she demanded.

Olivia nodded. “I just hope I can pull this off. Matthew's not easy to deceive.”

Maeve patted her shoulder. “Get your thinking straight, lass. We're not deceiving him, we're just letting him keep his innocence a while longer.” She laughed. “You've got the easy part, after all. If you think your Matthew's hard to take in, you ought to try my Kerry Anne. It was a close call hanging up that awful cell phone on her yesterday, then having to ignore the ring when she called back. And, not to mention, playing cat and mouse with her since last night.”

“I don't really like going behind her back—”

“Olivia!” Maeve thrust out her hands imploringly, nearly losing her grip on the stopwatch. “We'll not get anywhere if you keep fiddle-faddling around like this. Kerry Anne's been up before dawn, getting all her ducks in a nice, neat row. But
we need to keep her innocent, too. There's a lot at stake here, love—for those two
and
for you and that lad of mine. Don't you know that as well as I?”

“Of course I know it, Maeve.” She frowned. “But I'm also not too happy about playing this ‘poor little woman' role.”

“Then the sooner we do what's needing to be done, the better.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Olivia said, raising her right hand to her temple in a brisk salute.

Maeve chuckled. “It's off with you now.”

She made shooing motions and stood watching until Olivia walked across the common area and entered her building.

The lass had spunk, you had to hand her that. If anyone could put the starch into Brendan's shorts, she would.

Kerry Anne presented more of a challenge—but it was just the kind of challenge Maeve liked.

Still, as she eased into a quick heel-to-toe power walk, she shook her head in mild frustration.

How in the world did these younger generations ever manage on their own?

 

K
ERRY KEPT A TIGHT
hold on her clipboard.

After spending most of last night and half of this morning coming up with a proposal to present to the residents, a game plan for getting the park into shape, she acknowledged that she might just be the slightest bit cranky from lack of sleep.

Looking away from Uncle Bren and sending her gaze around the game room gave her the few seconds she needed to calm herself. More or less.

She'd been shocked when neither Matt Lawrence nor his mother had shown up for the meeting this morning. Matt's absence especially made her uneasy. Only because she didn't know what he was up to, nothing else. At least the meeting
had gone well. Her proposal had been accepted, and she was on her way to getting an inventory list in hand.

“Okay, where are we supposed to put all this stuff once I've logged it?” she asked, trying not to think how right Matt had been when he accused Uncle Bren of not thinking far enough ahead.

Why she'd jumped to defend her uncle, she really had to wonder. He meant well—he always did—but the reassurance did nothing to make her feel better. Her late-night inspection of his limited paperwork proved he had gone forward with the plan to renovate the amusement park the same way he went ahead with all his ideas—operating on a wish and a whistle in the dark.

“No worries, Kerry.” He beamed at her now. “We can store this in one of the buildings out on the pier.”

“Uh-uh.” She shook her head. “Not until we make sure they're secure. We wouldn't want vandals taking off with everything.”

“There aren't any vandals in Lakeside,” he began, then saw her expression and stopped. “All right, then. Ma ought to be able to find room.”

“With me taking over her couch and Brody in his sleeping bag on the floor because you're borrowing his bed? Not a chance.”

Colin and Brody, her two youngest brothers, still lived at Lakeside Village with Gran. At twelve, Brody loved the new sleeping arrangements, but with Uncle Bren and Kerry both home now and taking up space, Gran's house didn't have an inch of room to spare. Kerry sighed so deeply, the papers on her clipboard ruffled in the breeze. “I'll talk to the manager about some temporary storage area. At least, things are looking a little better in here.”

She turned her attention back to the room.

After the meeting, when a dozen or so of the neighbors
had volunteered to lend a hand, she had jumped on their offer. Then she'd literally rolled up the sleeves of her cutoff sweatshirt and begun organizing the material.
Someone
had to make order out of the confusion.

“Uh, Kerry…what about Olivia's boy?”

“That lawyer?” She forced a laugh. “Don't worry, Uncle Bren. I'll handle him.”

Poor choice of words, there. She turned, hoping he hadn't noticed her reaction. At the thought of
literally
getting her hands on Matt Lawrence, the entire clipboard had trembled.

How she could feel even the tiniest bit of interest in him amazed her. How she could feel the depth of attraction she
actually
did—toward the man who wanted to ruin her family—made her ashamed.

Taking a deep breath, she got a grip on the paperwork again. And on herself.

“All right, what about the receipt for these packages here, Uncle Bren? You know we're going to have to account to Matt for every penny you've spent.”

No answer.

She turned back to where he had stood just moments before, only to find the space empty and the patio door of the game room swinging closed.

“As usual,” she muttered, low enough so the residents on the other side of the room wouldn't hear. “When the time comes to get down to work, Uncle Bren disappears.” She shoved her pencil through her hair. “And now where did Gran go off to?”

“You'll be tripping over me in half a moment, Kerry Anne, if you're not careful.” The much-loved voice, soft and lilting, came from behind her.

Kerry suddenly found herself enveloped in the trademark
lavender scent that could bring her back to her childhood in an instant. Unfortunately.

She turned to eye her grandmother, so delicate with her fluffy white hair and ruffled dress and soft woolen wrap. So dainty and slight at only five foot one, an inch shorter than Kerry.

And so devious once you got to know her.

“Oh, hello, Gran.” She raised an eyebrow. “Just the person I've been wanting to see—and alone, for a change. Funny, wasn't it, how I couldn't get you by yourself for a minute this morning?”

“Not a bit, Kerry Anne.” She glanced down and shifted the straps of the canvas knitting bag she carried almost everywhere. “You've been busy since you arrived here last evening.”

“And you've been avoiding me since then.”

“Not at all. Whatever has you thinking such nonsense?”

“Oh…I don't know. Maybe because I saw you practically spoon-feeding the boys their cereal this morning—and they're twelve and fifteen?” She wouldn't be at all surprised to discover Gran had roped the two boys in on the evasion. “And after that you disappeared and I couldn't find you anywhere.”

“I went out for my morning jog.”

“
Went
out? Or
skipped
out? Because something tells me you wanted to avoid having the chat I mentioned last night.”

“Oh.” Gran raised a hand to her cheek. “I'd simply forgotten all about it, love.”

Kerry smiled wryly and gave her a quick one-armed hug. “Save it for a stranger, Gran, because I can see right through you.
Nothing
in this family is simple, and you know it. Now. What was the idea of sending Matt Lawrence to my house yesterday?”

“You needed a ride, and he was in your area.”

“And how did you know that?”

“Olivia.”

“His mother?”

Gran nodded. “He's a fine figure, isn't he? And Olivia says he's a bachelor, never been marr—”

“
Gran.
You can't possibly be trying to
fix me up
with him? Are you—” She bit off the words. “You know he's ready to throw Uncle Bren to the wolves the first chance he gets.”

“Oh, fiddle.” She hoisted her bag to her shoulder. “Nothing but a bit of bluff.”

“I wish
I
could be as certain of that.”

“Trust me, Kerry Anne. The lad wouldn't hurt a hair on anyone's head.”

“Says who?”

“Olivia. And if you're not believing his own ma…” She paused, as if waiting for Kerry's assurances.

“I can hardly believe someone I've never met.”

Gran's beaming face glowed like the man in the moon's. Instantly, Kerry felt a twinge of unease.

“As I say, if you're not believing Olivia's words—” Gran gestured toward the other side of the room “—then there's someone else you can ask.”

Kerry turned her head in the direction of the door leading from the patio. The same door Uncle Bren had escaped through, minutes before.

Only instead of her uncle returning to help with his own project, there stood Matt Lawrence, all six-foot-plus of him, dressed in jeans, T-shirt and boots.

Ignoring the little throb of pleasure pulsing through her, she muttered, “Darn, what's he doing here? I'll never get anything done if I have to play referee between that lawyer and Uncle Bren.”

Gran didn't respond, and a quick glance proved she'd slipped away as quietly as her son had. Reluctantly, Kerry
dragged her gaze back to the man across the room. Matt looked good.
Very
good.

Of course, she'd had enough experience with her own family not to trust appearances.

Matt Lawrence might have left behind the fancy business suit and polished shoes for this trip to Lakeside, but his casual clothes didn't change anything. He was too much of a lawyer. Too intense about his beliefs. Too ready to start trouble.

And, she noticed to her dismay, he had just set his sights on her.

 

M
ATT STEPPED OUT OF
the path of a couple of determined-looking women carrying small packages across the game room.

They weren't the only ones hard at work, and things looked considerably more organized than the mess he'd seen littering the place the night before. Clearly, the petite redhead with the no-nonsense manner on the opposite side of the room had handled the transformation. She got things done. And she cared about people. Her family, the residents here, her students. Too bad, in this case, she'd lent her support to a lost cause.

He looked around the area again and found no sign of MacBride. The man's niece would have to do.

Not a bad trade-off, at that. Even from this distance he could see the bright blueness of her eyes. And the calculation in her gaze. He found anticipation rising as he headed toward Kerry MacBride.

The woman's misguided family loyalty annoyed the heck out of him. Still, her feistiness offered a challenge. The way she stood now, with her feet planted and a clipboard held in front of her cutoff sweatshirt, showed she had geared up for battle.

No problem. Courtroom, game room—the venue didn't
matter. He never backed down. He just utilized different methods of dealing with different enemies.

He gave her a genuine smile. “I see you've rallied the troops around here, gotten a little action going.”

Curls bounced with her curt nod. “Yes, we're doing fine. Thank you for noticing.”

“Always the keen observer, that's me.”

“And the eager volunteer?”

He shook his head. “Sorry. Not for this joke of a project.”

She ignored the comment. “So then you've shown up only to bother me?”

“Is that an admission?” He leaned closer and murmured, “
Do
I bother you, Kerry Anne?”