Bonnie Winn - Rules of Engagement

“What we did…what David did…it mattered.”

Tess could scarcely see beyond her fury. “When you ask young men and women to lay down their lives, they deserve to know the real reason they’re doing it.”

“The reality isn’t sound bites on the news or the supposedly in-depth reports either. It’s seeing the crushing grief, the need for hope and knowing you’re it—the only hope. And when you lose one of your own people, you mourn the life that could have been. And then you go on soldiering.”

Tess wanted to call him an impostor. The man who’d written the letters she’d read couldn’t believe it was all right. He just couldn’t.

COLE WALKED DOWN the long curved driveway, past the patio to the big three-car garage. As he’d known he’d be, his father was surrounded by motorcycle parts and tools. Since Cole’s childhood, John Harrington had carried on a passionate love affair with Harley Davidson. Each restoration had led to another. Old and new, he loved them all. With the sole exception of his family, they were his only loves.

As the oldest, Cole had learned his mechanical skills at his father’s side helping him restore a 1957 Harley Sportster. Others had followed, but that one had always been Cole’s favorite. Since his father had never sold it, Cole suspected he felt the same way.

Cole smiled, seeing that his father was polishing a piece of chrome on his newest machine.

“Here’s that industrial solvent you wanted.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s quiet in the house.”

His father picked up the can of polish, measuring out a few more drops on to the cloth. “Your mother’s either at the donkey rescue or her beach preservation thing.”

“Shannon in class?” he asked about his younger sister who attended college.

John glanced at the clock over the work bench. “Uh-huh. But Robbie should be home in an hour or so.”

Cole would’ve liked to see his younger brother but he didn’t have the time to wait. “Dad, I need to run something by you.”

“Shoot.”

Cole laid out what he knew about Tess Spencer, from the missing designs and her return of his computer to the death of her brother in the war.

“I don’t know anything about corporate piracy.” John put down the chrome tailpipe. “But I can’t imagine this woman using her brother’s death to get some kind of upper hand over your company. When did you say he died? Seven months ago? And they’re twins?” He winced. “She strike you as that cold?”

“I don’t know. It just seems awfully suspicious that she brought the computer back wiped clean of all my work.”

“Maybe the computer’s a coincidence, like she said, something she just ended up with.”

“I wonder if someone’s playing her,” Cole admitted. “To get inside my company. But I can’t figure out what advantage there is in letting me know she had the computer.”

John shook his head. “Restaurants and technical engineering firms don’t seem to go together. Anyone in her family with connections to your line of work?”

“Not that I know of. Yet, anyway.”

John picked up the tailpipe again. “Anything I can do?”

“Yeah. Get that bike together so we can go for a ride. I’m going to need a clear head.”

His father laughed. “Do my best, son. Do my best.”

IT WAS THE CUSTOM of Tess and three of her cousins to meet at least once a month for breakfast. Normally, they saw each other a lot more than that, as well. Or they had, until David’s death.

Rachel, Kate and Sandy De Villard, daughters of three of Judith’s brothers, had all been born within approximately a year of Tess. And it had been natural to grow as close as sisters. At every holiday and family gathering the four stuck together like a unit. They were fierce guardians of one another’s secrets and dreams.

This Saturday they’d decided to meet at Kate’s sprawling ranch-style home rather than at the restaurant. Nearly all of the De Villard cousins had worked at Spencers when they were teens. Some liked it better than others. Two of the De Villards, Eric and Joseph, had gone on to get degrees in hospitality and now worked in the restaurant business.

The terrace behind Kate’s house led into a lush green lawn and well-tended beds of roses, petunias and daffodils. In the corner, a three-tiered fountain splashed softly against bronze fretwork. The fifty-plus-year-old house sat in the middle of two acres, enough land to ensure privacy, not too much to be unmanageable. Kate had chosen the unpretentious house for its charm and comfort.

Tess stepped through the French doors that led from the living room to the terrace. Like the house, it was so Kate—from the wicker and wrought iron chairs with their plump, colorful cushions to the table Kate had set with fragile china, despite the casual occasion.

“Aren’t you afraid we’ll break these?” Tess asked as she picked up a dainty cup.

“I’ll risk it.” Kate, who owned a successful vintage clothing store, hugged Tess, then adjusted one of the freshly cut roses on the table.

“Mimosa?” Rachel asked, entering through the second set of French doors from the kitchen. She carried a frosty pitcher of orange juice and champagne.

Tess hesitated. But she didn’t have to be at the restaurant for a few hours. “Sure.”

Sandy stood at the outdoor stove housed in a stone alcove along with a grill. “Hey! Perfect timing. Did you get the Shipley’s doughnuts?”

Tess pretended to look shocked. “Would I forget?”

Sandy grinned. “My fellow sugar junkie.”

Tess had missed these lazy Saturday morning breakfasts. But now there wasn’t much time for anything but work. It was a struggle just to find a few hours for the Families of the Fallen.

Sandy joined them, holding a platter with her signature fresh veggie omelet. “Hope you’re hungry.”

Tess sniffed appreciatively. “Smells good.”

After they were seated at the cozy round table, Sandy served the main dish. She scooped an overly large portion on Tess’s plate.

“I didn’t say I was starving.”

“No, but it looks like you haven’t stopped working long enough to eat in a while,” Sandy replied. “Who wants Parmesan?”

As Sandy grated the cheese, Tess studied her other two cousins. “This isn’t a conspiracy, is it?”

Rachel and Kate appeared innocent, too innocent.

“Of course not,” Kate replied.

Rachel started to speak, then sighed. “Yeah. We’d prefer to think of it as more of an intervention, though.”

“I haven’t joined a cult.”

Kate placed her hand over Tess’s. “You haven’t done anything, sweetie, other than work. You’re spending every waking hour at the restaurants.”

“I don’t want to let my parents down,” Tess protested. She wasn’t ready yet to tell them how much she was volunteering at Families of the Fallen. The controversial group touched a sore spot within her family.

“We know you don’t.” Sandy fiddled with the serving spoon. “But you’re not going to help them by making yourself sick.”

“I’m just fine!”

Kate’s pretty face was drawn, lined with concern. “You never take a moment for yourself.”

“That’s not true!”

“When’s the last time you had a date?” Rachel challenged.

All three women stared expectantly at Tess. She groped for an answer that wouldn’t reveal more than she was ready to tell them. “Thursday.”

Matching stares of astonishment gave way to oohs and aahs.

“Who is he?” Rachel demanded.

“Cole Harrington,” she replied reluctantly.

“What does he do?” Sandy asked next.

“He owns his own company.”

“What does he look like?” This from Kate, always the romantic.