And no one here to help her do them, with Maggie off in Los Angeles and Athena running her restaurant in Chicago. Xander deliberately avoided thinking about the final Reynolds sister, though he was sure that this would bring even her home. The idea of that caused his gut to tighten with a mix of old fury and guilt.
“What can I do to help?”
“Let me make you some coffee.”
“Pru—”
“No really,” she sniffed, pulling away. “I’m better when I’m doing something.”
Xander didn’t want coffee, but if she needed to keep her hands busy, he’d drink some. “Coffee’d be great.”
She began puttering around the kitchen, pulling beans out of the freezer and scooping them into the grinder. Joan had loved her gourmet beans. It’d been one of the few luxuries she’d always allowed herself. As she went through the motions, Pru seemed to regain her control.
“Maggie’s taking the red eye from LA, and Athena’s flying out as soon as she closes down the restaurant tonight.”
“Do either of them need to be picked up from the airport?”
“They’re meeting in Nashville and driving up together in the morning, so they’ll be here to help me finish planning the service. It’s supposed to be on Thursday.”
Xander didn’t ask about Kennedy. Both because he didn’t want to care whether she showed up, and if she wasn’t coming, he didn’t want to rub it in.
Pru set a steaming mug in front of him, adding the dollop of half and half he liked and giving it a stir. “Kennedy gets in day after tomorrow. There was some kind of issue getting a direct flight, so she’s having to criss-cross Europe before she even makes it Stateside again. She’s coming home, Xander.”
He wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be an announcement or a warning, but it cracked open the scab over a very old wound that had never quite healed.
She laid a hand over his. “Are you okay?”
This woman had just lost her mother, and she was worried about whether he’d be okay with the fact that his high school girlfriend, whom he hadn’t seen in a decade, was coming home.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Pru leveled those deep, dark eyes on his. “I know there are unresolved issues between you.”
God, if only she knew the truth—that he was the reason Kennedy had left—she wouldn’t be so quick to offer sympathy.
“It was a long time ago, Pru. There’s nothing to resolve.” Kennedy had made her position clear without saying a word to him. At the memory, temper stirred, belying his words. There were things he needed to say to her, questions he wanted answered. But whatever her faults, Kennedy had just lost her mother, too, and Xander wasn’t the kind of asshole who’d attack her and demand them while she was reeling from that. Chances were, she’d be gone before he had an opportunity to say a thing. He’d gotten used to living with disappointment on that front.
He laid a hand over Pru’s. “Don’t worry about me. How’s Ari?”
She straightened. “Devastated. Terrified. And…” Pru sighed. “Not speaking.”
“Not speaking?”
“Not since I told her. She’d come so far living here with Mom, and this is an enormous setback. No surprise. Especially having just lost her grandmother last year.” Pru continued to bustle around the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee and coming to sit with him at the table. Her long, capable fingers wrapped around the mug.
“She upstairs?”
“Yeah. I was trying to get her to eat something when you got here.”
“Poor kid. Have you talked to the social worker yet?”
“Briefly. Mae wants to let us get through the funeral and all the stuff after before we all figure out what to do.”
“Who would’ve been named her emergency guardian if the adoption had gone through?” Xander asked.
“The four of us, probably. I know it’s what Mom would’ve wanted. But there are legal ramifications to the situation, and the fact is, I’m the only one still here.” She sighed. “We’ll have to talk about it after. The one thing I know we’ll all be in agreement on is that we want what’s best for Ari.”
“All four of you have been in her shoes, and you turned into amazing women. I know you’ll do the right thing.” Whatever that turned out to be.
Xander polished off the coffee. “I’m on shift, so I need to be getting back. But, please, if you need anything, Pru, don’t hesitate to call. I’m just down the road.”
She rose as he did and laid a hand on his cheek. “You’re a good stand-in brother, Xander. Mom always loved that about you.”
He felt another prick of guilt, knowing his own involvement with this family had been heavily motivated by trying to make up for Kennedy’s absence. “Yeah well, I ran as tame here as the rest of you when we were kids. Especially when Porter was around.” Giving her another squeeze, he asked, “Can I do that for you? Notify the rest of her fosters? I know you’ve covered your sisters, but there were a lot of kids who went through here over the years. I’m sure they’d like to pay their respects.”
Her face relaxed a fraction. “That would be amazing. I’m sure we’ll have a houseful after the funeral, but I need a chance to gird my loins for the influx. Mom kept a list. I’ll get it for you.”
As she disappeared upstairs, he wandered into the living room. Little had changed over the years. The big, cushy sofas had rotated a time or two. And there’d been at least three rugs that he could remember. But photos of Joan and her charges were scattered everywhere. Xander eased along the wall, scanning faces. A lot of them he knew. A lot of them, he didn’t.
A shot at the end caught his attention. The girl’s face was turned away from the camera, looking out over the misty mountains. She was on the cusp of womanhood, her long, tanned legs crossed on the swing that still hung from the porch outside, a book forgotten in her lap. Her golden hair was caught in a loose tail at her nape. Xander’s fingers itched with the memory of the silky strands flowing through his fingers. She’d been sixteen, gorgeous, and the center of his world. The sight of her still gave him a punch in the gut.
“Here it is.”
At the sound of Pru’s voice, Xander turned away from Kennedy’s picture. Over and done.
He strode over and took the pages she’d printed. “I’ll take care of it,” he promised.
“Thank you, Xander. This means a lot.”
“Anytime.” With one last, affectionate tug on her hair, he stepped outside, away from memories and the looming specter of what might have been.
Chapter Two
BY THE TIME THE Uber dropped her off at the house—and she was deliberately not thinking about how much that ride from the airport actually cost her—Kennedy was so far past exhausted, she felt practically out of body. She hadn’t felt right bothering her sisters for a ride, and she was used to finding her own way from one point to another. When one of her flights was canceled and another delayed for weather, it had taken a series of planes, trains, and automobiles to get her from the west coast of Ireland back Stateside. Her luggage was—somewhere else, and she was a day later than planned, cutting it so close that she’d ended up finding funeral attire in a shop in the Amsterdam airport. The long-sleeved, jersey dress was simple and unadorned. Perhaps not as nice as she’d have chosen had she had any time to prepare, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. At least it was the appropriate color.
Kennedy didn’t recognize any of the vehicles in the drive. And why should she? She’d left this place at eighteen and hadn’t come back. In that time, they could have made a thousand and one changes and she wouldn’t have been any the wiser. Would it still feel like home without Mom here to fill it with her big, boisterous personality? Heart in her throat, Kennedy climbed the steps. The third one still squeaked. That tiny, familiar detail made her ache. At the door, she hesitated, wondering if she should knock or ring the bell of this place that had once been hers. Deciding that smacked too much of cowardice, she tried the knob. It turned beneath h
er hand, and she stepped inside.
Her irrational fear that everything had changed abated as she took in the living room. Same overstuffed sofas. Same gallery of pictures. Kennedy even recognized some of the tchotchkes she’d sent her mom over the years, set around for decoration. The omnipresent scent of her mother’s coffee and the low murmur of voices pulled her toward the kitchen and the center of the home she’d left so long ago. Kennedy didn’t realize how much she’d expected Joan to be seated at the big farmhouse table, hands wrapped around one of her favorite mugs, until the sight of the empty chair sucker punched her in the gut, ripping right through the emotional numbness of exhaustion.
“Well, look who decided to grace us with her presence.”
At the acerbic tone, Kennedy looked over at her sister Athena. She stood by the counter, her long brown hair caught up in the same utilitarian bun Kennedy knew she wore daily to keep it out of the way in her restaurant kitchen. Kennedy didn’t brook offense at the hard set of Athena’s jaw and the glint in her dry eyes. She well knew Athena didn’t do upset. She didn’t cry. She got pissed and bit at whoever the most convenient target happened to be. Her kitchen staff had probably been on the receiving end of a fit worthy of Gordon Ramsey when she got the news about Joan.
“Enough. We’ll have none of that today.” Maggie, the middle Reynolds daughter and a year younger than Kennedy, looked calm and in control in her neat black suit, her pale blonde hair pulled back in a tidy chignon, with a strand of pearls at her throat. The very picture of the consummate professional woman she’d become.
“You made it.” Pru hurried over, immediately enfolding Kennedy in a hug that had the tears threatening again. “I was beginning to worry.”
She fought for control, hanging on to Pru for all she was worth. “So was I. My luggage may end up in Sri Lanka, but I’m here.”
“Have you eaten?” Pru asked.
The very thought of food made Kennedy’s stomach turn. “Can’t.”
“Coffee, then.” Without waiting for an answer, Pru went to pour her a mug.
Not knowing what else to do, Kennedy set her carry-on down and dropped her purse.
Maggie hesitated, something rippling over her face before she crossed the room and folded Kennedy into a hug. It wasn’t so long or warm as Pru’s, but it was so much more than Kennedy had expected. Of all of her sisters, Maggie had the most reason to hate her.
“The car will be here in a couple of hours to pick us up.”
Another car, this one to the very last place Kennedy wanted to go. But there was no running or hiding from this. Accepting the coffee, she asked, “So what’s the plan?”
“Visitation at Kavanaugh’s from one to two, then a graveside service,” Maggie explained.
“After that, it’s back here for food. We’re expecting a big crowd. A lot of Mom’s fosters are coming in, thanks to Xander,” Pru said. “He made all the calls.”
Kennedy considered it a minor miracle she didn’t choke on her coffee. Something akin to panic crawled up her spine and shot her heart rate through the roof. Of course Xander Kincaid was still in Eden’s Ridge. Exactly where his father thought he was supposed to be. Why should that have changed?
But she hadn’t prepared herself for the possibility of seeing him. Not really. Her entire focus had been on getting home for the funeral. Consciously deepening her breath, she worked to slow her heart and tamp down the anxiety, keeping her tone even. “That was kind of him. I’m sure everyone wants to pay their respects.”
Why, exactly, was Xander helping her sister out with funeral arrangements? Wasn’t that the kind of thing you did for a significant other?
And why should you care? You walked away and gave up any right to feel jealousy over who Xander’s with. But the chiding did nothing to stem the quick prick of resentment at the idea that he’d moved on to her sister, of all people. Pru was exactly the kind of woman Xander needed. Rooted here and focused on home and hearth. Not a screw up with itchy feet and no plan for the future. Any guy would be lucky to have her.
“Kennedy?”
How long had Pru been speaking? “What?”
“Bless your heart, I know you’re exhausted. I said there’s time for you to grab a shower, if you want. I know you’ve been on the go for a few days now.”
That probably meant she looked as bad as she felt. There was only so much she could do to make herself presentable in an airport bathroom or service station. “A shower would be great.”
“I’ve put you in your old room. There are fresh towels in the cabinet in the bathroom. I’m sure we can…” She trailed off as the slow, mournful notes of Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” began to sound. “Ari.”
They all listened in silence as the girl poured out her grief at the piano, wringing every last drop of emotion from the instrument. Joan had said the child was gifted, but Kennedy had never imagined this. Tears spilled down her cheeks as the music shattered the last vestiges of her control, unleashing the devastation she’d pushed to the side just to get here. By the time the last note faded, they were all crying, save Athena, who looked ready to punch something.
Pru wiped at her eyes. “It’s the first time she’s left her room in three days. I think she’s afraid that if she leaves the house, social services will take her away.”
Maggie went ramrod straight. “Have they threatened to?”
“No. Mae knows this is devastating. She’s not going to rock the boat right now. So I’m her guardian until something more permanent can be decided on.”
“Permanent like what?” Athena asked.
Pru shrugged. “I don’t know. I think Mae’s been putting out feelers to see if she can track down Ari’s birth parents. She didn’t have any luck when Sofia—Ari’s grandmother—passed away, but with this… She doesn’t want to leave any stone unturned.”
“Poor kid,” Athena muttered. “No wonder she’s terrified.”
As Beethoven rolled into Debussy, Kennedy tried to imagine what she’d have done in Ari’s shoes. Her mother had taken off when Kennedy was only seven. Her dad had done his best for a while, taking her on the road in his eighteen wheeler as he trucked across country. But even he’d given up on the parenting gig after a while, announcing that it’d been a good run, but it just wasn’t working anymore. She’d been twelve when he dumped her into the system, nearly thirteen by the time she’d come to Joan, saddled with the kiss-of-death moniker of “troubled.” If there’d been even a whiff of a possibility that they’d send her back to her father, she wouldn’t have hesitated before bolting.
“We have to do something.” Kennedy wiped at her own eyes. “We have to make her feel safe and protected, like Mom did. We all know what it feels like to have the rug pulled out from under us. She has enough to deal with without adding worry that she’s going to get thrown back into the system. We have to look after her. It’s what Mom would’ve wanted.”
Athena turned from the window. “You’re hardly in a position to know what Mom wanted.”
Kennedy absorbed the blow, biting back the protest that rose in her throat. She was too tired to fight with Athena. Too tired to fight with any of them. And what could she really say? She hadn’t been here. That none of them knew the true reason why hardly mattered. She still couldn’t explain. The fact was, it had been a risk coming back here, even now.
“Kennedy’s not wrong,” Maggie said. “Mom considered Ari another daughter. The fact that the legal paperwork didn’t get finished before she died was just a formality. That makes her our sister. And that means we fight for her.”
A little of the tension leeched away. They’d fight. So sayeth Maggie. Nothing short of God himself would dare go against her.
“There will be time to figure it out after today,” Pru said. “The music’s stopped. Maybe she’ll finally eat something. I’ll go see.”
Feeling raw and wanting some space, Kennedy scooped up her carry-on and purse. “I’m gonna get that shower now.”
~*~
/> Xander considered it an honor to lead the procession to Joan's final resting place. The line of cars snaked down the mountain, filling multiple switchbacks. The cemetery was an older one, high up on the ridge where you could look out over the Great Smoky Mountains. She'd loved those mountains all her life, and he thought it fitting that she be laid to rest with such a view. He hoped that when her daughters came to visit the graveside—if they came to visit after today—they'd find some comfort in that.
Stepping out of his cruiser, Xander looked toward the car parked behind the hearse. The doors opened and the sisters slid out, all in unrelieved black. Pru, Maggie, and Athena he'd seen, already offered his condolences. Kennedy was the last one out. He wanted to be cool and unaffected, wanted to hang on to the bitterness and anger over her abandonment. And it was there, as it had been for years. But even at this distance, he could see the signs of weeping, and he couldn’t harden his heart. Not fully. His ribs felt too tight, and he couldn’t take a full breath.
She'd grown up. He'd known that objectively. He certainly had in the last ten years. But he'd worked hard not to imagine her as a woman, not to wonder how she'd changed, so in his mind, she'd stayed the fresh-faced girl of eighteen. Grief and exhaustion did little to dim her beauty. She was a knockout, with a subtle edge of...something. A confidence he didn't remember from high school, as if she was comfortable in her own skin now. Or as comfortable as she could be under the circumstances.
Not trusting himself to maintain the necessary emotional distance, Xander stuck to keeping physical space between them, busying himself by directing the parking lineup of all the mourners as the pall bearers gathered at the rear of the hearse. They were all former fosters of Joan's, now men grown and off on their own. Xander had heard their stories, and dozens of others, when he'd called to break the news of her passing. With only a few exceptions, every single person on Joan's list had returned to say goodbye and pay their respects to the woman who’d changed their lives. Between them and all of her many friends from Eden’s Ridge, the graveside was packed.