Mariah Stewart - Coming Home

The one thing she had decided was that Grady Shields was no tongue-tied recluse who needed to be led around by the hand.

She’d been on edge from the minute Mia had called her that morning and told her that Grady was on his way over to pitch in with the cookies. Vanessa hadn’t wanted him there-hadn’t invited a man into her house since she moved in, other than Hal, Beck, and the occasional workmen-but before she knew it, he was standing on her front steps and she’d had to let him in. Far from being the shy dolt his sister had described, she’d found him funny and easy to be with and sexy. Definitely sexy.

Watching Grady now, with his fingers curled around the neck of a bottle of beer, she felt a tension growing inside her and twisting into a knot. She liked the way he looked-well, who wouldn’t?-and she liked the way he laughed. Add that to the fact that he hadn’t been the least bit hesitant to admit to his cooking skills, and that he’d spent almost the entire day cutting out little heart shapes in cookie dough just because it would make his sister happy on her wedding day, even though he’d probably wished to be somewhere else, and you had one damned attractive package. Certainly Vanessa was attracted.

He was such a contrast to the men in her past. God knew that neither of her ex-husbands had so much as opened a can on their own. Make their own soup? Wash their own dishes? Ha! In her dreams!

As if he’d read her mind, he glanced over at her and smiled.

“Do you need a drink?” he asked.

She held up her wineglass in response. He grabbed a basket of peanuts from the bar and made his way toward her, stepping between Andy and Connor, who were arguing over who would kick whose butt at darts later that night. As Grady drew closer to Vanessa, he held the basket out to her.

“No, thank you.” She shook her head. “If I’m going to eat anything before dinner, it’s going to be the artichoke-and-crab dip.”

“It’s good?”

“The best ever.”

“In that case…” He handed the basket to Andy to return to the bar.

“You won’t be sorry you saved the room,” she promised.

“Dinner, everyone.” The hostess waved them to the private room Hal had reserved.

Grady stepped to the bar to put down his empty bottle, and Vanessa lingered a moment, waiting for him while trying to appear not to be. Suddenly she had the strangest sensation of someone’s eyes boring into her. She glanced around the room but saw no one who appeared to be looking in her direction. Still, the feeling was almost overwhelming, strong enough to accompany her into the room where their dinner would be served.

Vanessa stood in the doorway, her discomfort momentarily edged aside while she studied the table. As she’d requested, the centerpiece was low and long and packed with all of Mia’s favorite flowers: white hydrangeas tinged with green; lush, fragrant dark pink peonies; fat pale pink rosebuds, all set off by the drama of purple anemones. At each place setting was a gift bag in either lime or navy-the primary wedding colors-tied with a floppy pink satin bow. Into each Vanessa had tucked a DISCOVER ST. DENNIS! mug, a jar of honey from a local farm, a box of truffles from Sweetie Pie’s, the confection shop that opened last fall, a walking map of St. Dennis, and a certificate good for breakfast on Sunday morning at Let’s Do Brunch, the newest eatery in town. At the last minute, she tucked in one of the snow globes from the gift shop on the first floor of the Inn at Sinclair’s Point. Beneath the glass dome was a perfect likeness of the Inn, right down to the Adirondack chairs that overlooked the Bay. Shaking it, watching the white whirls engulf the stately old building, reminded her that she’d first arrived in St. Dennis on just such a snowy day.

“The flowers are lovely and so is the table,” Mia whispered in her ear. “I see your touch in everything.”

“I may have suggested a little something here and there.” Vanessa straightened a bow on one of the bags. “But Olivia did the flowers.”

“After you told her what the centerpiece should look like.”

“I merely mentioned what you like.” Vanessa smiled modestly. “Olivia did the rest.”

Once everyone found their place at the table, there were toasts and speeches, the most memorable being from Hal.

At Beck’s insistence, Hal was seated at the head of the table. When he rose silently, a glass in his hand, one by one, everyone’s eyes turned to him. Several times he appeared to be about to speak, but several moments passed before he finally did.

“A long time ago, I fell in love with a lady who, I believed back then, loved me, too. War and time came between us. When I returned from Vietnam, I’d discovered she’d married another man. I came back here to St. Dennis to lick my wounds and get on with my life.”

The room had fallen so quiet, Vanessa could hear Grady breathing over her right shoulder.

“A long time passed. I thought I’d meet someone else and fall in love again, but I never did. I’d always wanted a family to raise here in my hometown-a son, maybe even a daughter-but that didn’t seem likely, either. Until one day, my doorbell rang.” Hal cleared his throat, his emotions beginning to catch up with him. “I opened the door, and there on my porch stood the woman I had fallen in love with years before-and a sullen-looking boy of about thirteen who looked like he was ready to bolt. The lady handed the boy over to me and said something like, ‘Here, see what you can do with him. He’s an awful handful.’ Well, by the time I recovered from the shock, the woman had gone, but the boy was still there.”

“Hal, you don’t have to-” Beck’s voice cracked.

“Oh, but I do, son.” Hal took a minute to compose himself before continuing. “The woman was right: the boy was an awful handful. Tested me at every turn, in ways I could never have imagined. But one thing was true: he was my boy. My son. Eventually, somehow, we made our peace, and that awful handful of a kid… well, he turned out to be the son I’d always prayed for, a son any man would be proud of. And I am proud of you, Beck.”

Hal turned directly to Beck.

“I always thought you were a smart boy. But falling in love with Mia… well, that just proves the point, doesn’t it? If it had been up to me to pick a bride for you, I couldn’t have done better. I’m hoping that you’ll both be as happy as you deserve to be. And maybe one day, you’ll ring my doorbell and bring me a little one to add to our family.”

He looked as if he had something else to say, but instead, he tilted his glass to toast the couple. When no more words came, Beck stood and embraced him. The two men clung to each other for a very long moment. A teary-eyed Vanessa stood and completed the toast.

“I think what Hal was trying to say was, may you have a long and happy life together.”

“Here, here!”

“Amen!”

Glasses clinked as they touched across the table and cameras flashed as pictures were taken to record the moment.

Andy spoke next, about how the three brothers used to play tricks on their little sister, until they discovered she was a better shot than any of them, which lightened the mood at the table. Mia’s matron of honor, Anne Marie McCall, the profiler from Mia’s old FBI unit, spoke of how Mia had grown up in the FBI and how much she was missed, but how happy all her former co-agents were that she’d found exactly what she’d needed in St. Dennis.

Vanessa had wanted to make a toast of her own, but after listening to Hal, she found she was incapable. Every thought she had stuck in her throat. How to put into words, in a room full of near strangers, what his acceptance of her had meant to a young woman who had felt so lost, so unsure of herself, so totally alone? How the welcome she’d been given by Beck and Hal both had given her direction and the sense of place, the sense of herself, that she’d needed?