Family Matters (DiCarlo Brides book 4) (The DiCarlo Brides) (7 page)

“Rosemary, just like you always have. I know Cecilia and Don will always be your parents, and I’m so grateful they were so awesome. You can call me anything you want. Even Queen Rosemary, if you want.”

That made Cleo giggle, as it was an old joke between them. “You’re not a queen.”

“I’m the queen in the kitchen. And you better believe it.” She sucked in a breath. “Now, did you want to visit your friends or anything? We won’t have much longer before we have to move to Colorado, so you better see them while you still have time.”

Rosemary was surprised at how well Cleo took the news, but then little kids did have a way of bouncing back. On the other hand, issues tended to resurface. She ought to know.

Harrison rubbed his sweaty hands on his pant legs and pulled the key from the ignition. He’d taken the excuse to visit Rosemary as Sage suggested.

He and Rosemary may not always see eye to eye, but she often pretended nothing was bothering her even when she was upset about something.

Now he worried that showing up on her doorstep would make the gulf in their relationship worse, though. Funny how that possibility hadn’t seemed so real until he had arrived in DC and turned the car toward the address Sage had tracked down for him.

He stared at the white stuccoed rambler, well maintained and inviting in a neighborhood that was starting to show evidence of neglect, but had obviously been quite nice a decade or two before. Would she even let him in?

He grabbed his keys, the pizza he’d picked up on the way there, and the bag with the cookies he’d bought at a nearby bakery. If he was going to show up on Rosemary’s doorstep to check up on her—risking her wrath—it was best if he came with a peace offering. Not that she was likely to eat much of the food, but maybe Cleo would like it, anyway. There was a rental car in the driveway, so he knew Rosemary had to be there.

His stomach felt tight and a little unsettled as he walked to the front door, switching the bag to the hand with the pizza so he could knock.

“Who is it?” a young girl’s voice asked through the door.

“My name is Harrison. I know Rosemary,” he said in return.

Little feet pounded on the floor and then the girl’s voice called down the hall, her mother’s name the only word that was distinguishable.

A long moment passed as he felt himself starting to sweat and then the door opened. Rosemary pushed the fall of blond hair over her shoulder and stared at him in surprise. “Cleo said you were here. I thought I heard wrong.”

A cute blond head poked out from behind Rosemary. “You know him?”

“Yeah, he’s Sage’s brother,” Rosemary said, guardedly. She looked at the pizza and bakery bag. “What are you doing here?” she asked him.

“I had to come in to the local resort and thought I’d pop by to see how things are going. I figured you probably haven’t eaten dinner yet.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You came to check up on me?”

He braved her possible wrath and smiled. “Sage worries. I knew she would feel better if I could reassure her that you’re still eating and seem to be holding it all together.”

She stared at him for a long moment, as if unsure whether to believe him or not, then opened the door wider and gestured for him to enter. “Right, because I’m so delicate.”

He flashed her a grin and pushed through.

Cleo stood out of the way, watching him, as she had the whole time. She looked over at Rosemary thoughtfully, then back at him again. “You’re Sage’s brother, but not Rosemary’s?”

“That’s right. Sage and I have the same mom, and Rosemary and Sage have the same dad. I’m kind of part of the family, but not really.”

“Like me,” Cleo said.

“Oh, no, you’re really part of the family. All the way. I hope you like pizza.” He set the box on the dining room table.

Cleo ran over. “I love pizza! It’s my favorite.” Her nose wrinkled. “You didn’t get anchovies did you? My Uncle Mike always gets them and they smell yucky.”

She was a doll. “Nope, no anchovies. I don’t like them much, either.” He opened the box and gestured inside so they could see it. “Just pepperoni and olives this time. What’s your favorite?”

He kept his eyes on the little girl as Rosemary moved to the cupboard and pulled out plates and glasses. He knew where she was every moment, acutely aware of the wariness in her eyes and the way she seemed off kilter. He kept up a steady stream of chatter with Cleo though, finding that easier than facing Rosemary—and it gave her a chance to get her bearings again. The longer he was there, the less likely that she’d kick him out.

She brought over the stack of plates and handed one to him. “How are things at home?”

She’d only been gone two days, but he understood that she was nervous, more than concerned. “Great. Lana and Blake are unbearably happy and Jonquil is scarfing down Ho-Hos again.” He met Rosemary’s eyes, well aware of her on-going battle against Jonquil’s love of preservative-filled snack cakes.

“Sounds about right.” She touched her daughter’s head, smoothing the hair down in back. “Eat your pizza, bug.”

Harrison changed the subject to something funny that happened at the hotel. He stayed through dinner and the cookies, drawn to both mother and daughter, and impressed with how Rosemary handled things, but concerned by the worry lines on her forehead and how tired she looked. She ate some pizza, but not even a full slice. He hung around as long as he dared, then decided it was time to make his excuses before she kicked him out. He turned to Cleo. “You probably need to get Rosemary to bed. It’s getting late and she gets a little cranky when she doesn’t get enough sleep.” He stood and grabbed his coat.

Cleo giggled.

“I’m never cranky. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rosemary said, though her butter-will-not-melt expression said she knew better.

Cleo giggled again. “She doesn’t go to bed early. She sends me to bed, then stays up late doing things around the house.”

“Adults can be like that,” he said with an understanding nod. “When she wakes up in the morning, does she head straight for the coffee pot and grumble about how she misses her espresso maker?”

Cleo’s eyes grew wide and she grinned. “Yes! How did you know?”

He looked at Rosemary’s scowl and managed to keep his expression mostly even. “Just a good guess.”

“Cleo does need to get ready for bed,” Rosemary said, interrupting the conversation. “We have a lot to finish up before we head back to Colorado.”

“I’ll be busy tomorrow and then have to head back myself the next morning, but I’ll see you soon.” He turned to Cleo and held out his hand for a shake. “It was nice to meet you, Cleo.”

“It was nice to meet you too,” she said formally, giving his hand a firm shake.

“All right, bug. Go put on your pajamas.” Rosemary gave her daughter a little push toward the back hall.

“But—”

“No buts, just bed.” She pointed away, a no-nonsense look on her face.

Cleo heaved a sigh. “Fine. Goodnight!” She said this last over her shoulder and then headed down the hall.

Harrison shrugged into his coat. “It was good to see you. She’s a cute kid. You should be proud.”

“Of course I am.” She folded her arms and stared at him. Her voice was quiet and a little confused when she spoke again. “Why did you come?”

Just when he had been thinking he might avoid the inquisition. “I thought you could use a friendly face.”

Her eyes narrowed and her shoulders shifted. “We’re not friends, Harrison. Why have you been so nice lately? Are you feeling sorry for me? I don’t like pity.”

As if he wasn’t fully aware of that. “I don’t pity you. Besides, you called me your friend the other day.”

Her face crinkled at the edges. “I did not.”

“Of course you did.” He gestured a little. “So it was off handed and you added the word
irritating
in front of it, but I definitely heard the word friend.” How could he explain that his feelings went way beyond that without her kicking him into the snow and telling him never to darken her door again? “I’m concerned, but it’s not pity.”

She studied him. “I don’t get you, Harrison.”

He smiled. “That’s okay. There’s plenty of time for that later.” He held her gaze for several seconds before she pulled away and opened the front door for him.

“See you soon,” he said, then walked out into the cold.

She shut the door behind him and he strolled out to his rental car. They had a long way to go before she would move past the hard feelings they’d been nurturing, but the confusion and uncertainty on her face told him that maybe he had a chance with her after all—if he could put her off balance now and then.

Rosemary closed the door behind Harrison and wondered what that was all about. He’s been oddly nice to her in the past few weeks—the cussing out in her office about Rulon being an exception. She’d completely forgotten about him coming out to DC for meetings and wondered why no one else had mentioned it before she left Colorado.

She remembered the first time they ever met—seeing him across the deck of the cruise ship her father had booked her onto. She had given birth to Cleo only a few months before and still had most of her baby fat—and some she’d packed on during her teen years with comfort eating.

She’d seen Harrison and felt an immediate zing of attraction, she’d even moved across the deck toward him, then saw him get two plates of pizza and take one back to his companion—the sweet looking girl with the wild brown curls. They talked like they’d known each other for ages and she’d felt a punch to her gut. Of course he wasn’t interested in her. Of course anyone she was that attracted to would have a girlfriend. She was just the mousy nobody Jamie had been able to dismiss and walk away from when he learned about the baby.

She hadn’t been attracted to anyone since Jamie—Cleo’s dad—and he had been an indifferent boyfriend and took off the moment he’d learned she was pregnant. She hadn’t seen him since, and didn’t really care anymore. It hadn’t been love. She’d wanted it to be, willed it to be, stupidly slept with him in the hopes that it would become love for both of them. But it hadn’t been.

She turned away from the couple and picked up some food for herself, taking her plate to another part of the ship where she wouldn’t have to see the cute couple laughing together.

That night she had met with the director for their singles cruise and Rosemary had been surprised to find the other couple was part of their group. Harrison—she hadn’t known his name then—looked at her and stared. It made her self-conscious and she patted her short blond hair and felt a good thirty pounds heavier than she already was. The girl touched his arm, drawing his attention away and Rosemary tried to focus on what the director was saying.

When one of the other girls had commented on how good-looking Harrison was later that night, she hadn’t realized he was close enough to hear and shot back something about how plain and mousy his girlfriend was. It had been a lie—Sage was as exotic as a gypsy and Rosemary was jealous, feeling like a big, awkward lump.

Harrison said something nasty about Rosemary’s weight and stalked off. They ignored or snipped at each other for the rest of the cruise.

When Rosemary met Sage again at the reading of the will and heard her name, she’d realized immediately who she was and wondered what happened between Sage and Harrison. They’d had different last names, so she hadn’t realized the two of them were siblings. Not until later.

She remembered now how the pain had come back to her, layering on the pain of losing her father, and the attorney’s announcement that the six women in the meeting were all sisters. Her father’s demand that they move to Colorado to open the resort only worsened the pain. She’d seriously considered walking away from her inheritance, even if her part of the inheritance would go to some stupid yacht club for rich kids to have more pampered lives than ever. And a cheerleading camp of all things. But she’d caved when she read her father’s personalized letter to her. Learning that she’d been wrong about Harrison all of those years ago, that he had been Sage’s brother, not her boyfriend, made her feel like a fool.

“Rosemary, are you going to read to me?” Cleo’s voice broke her from her reverie, bringing her back to the present.