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Jason, Leonie’s youngest son, was a sophomore in college. Maddie could have pointed out that having a nineteen-year-old drift in and out was not quite the same as having a thirty-one-year-old man around, but she simply said, “Of course there won’t be a problem. This is a big house and since you’ve remodeled the upstairs and put in the private entrance, it’s more like separate apartments.”
Leonie nodded in agreement. “I know, but I like it when you and Krystal share my house with me. I enjoy our girl time and I don’t want you to feel as if you can’t come downstairs because there’s a man in the house.”
“That won’t change anything,” Maddie assured her.
Leonie smiled. “Good. I’ve called the plumber to see if he can get the bathroom upstairs finished before Dylan arrives.” She tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn, then glanced at the clock. “No wonder I’m tired. Look at the time. As much as I’d like to sample that fudge tonight, I’m afraid I’m going to have to wait until tomorrow.”
Maddie nodded and wished her a goodnight’s sleep. As she finished cleaning up the kitchen she thought about what Leonie had told her. In a week there would be a man in the house.
Not just any man, but Dylan Donovan. Memories of a tall, thin boy with brown eyes flashed in her mind.
She’d come to stay with the Donovans for the summer so that she could enroll in a dance program here. For Maddie it had been a dream come true. A chance to leave her small town in North Dakota for the big city and to take a class at one of the top ballet schools in the Midwest.
The only down side had been that she had to spend a summer living with a family of four boys. She’d grown up in a house of women, and the thought of being around boys twenty-four hours a day had made her uncertain and shy.
Especially seventeen-year-old Dylan. Not only was he city smart, he was the cutest guy she’d ever set eyes on and that summer she’d spent nearly every hour she was awake fantasizing about what it would be like to be his girlfriend. Convinced she’d die of humiliation should anyone discover how she felt about him, she’d worked very hard to pretend she didn’t like him at all.
Not that she had needed to worry. Dylan had no reason to notice a fourteen-year-old with braces and a shape not much different than that of his twelve-year-old brother Garret.
Unfortunately, it was Garret who had discovered how Maddie felt about his oldest brother. If she hadn’t beaten him at chess, she was certain he would have told Dylan that she fancied herself in love with him.
Maddie sighed, thinking how silly those adolescent crushes were. Dramatic but silly. She finished beating the fudge until it was thick and creamy, spread it into the pan, then took great pleasure in eating a huge chunk.
Dylan’s presence in the house would not create any awkwardness other than to cut in on what Leonie called their “girl time.” As Maddie washed down the fudge with a glass of milk, she said, “Nothing like chocolate to put your world in order,” then went to bed.
THE MAN SITTING NEXT TO DYLAN nudged him. “Did you hear that? It’s two above with a windchill of seventeen below. And to think people actually like living here,” the stranger said with a shake of his head as the plane taxied to the gate at the Twin Cities airport.
“Some people like the cold,” Dylan noted.
The stranger made a sound of disgust. “Me…I like warm, tropical breezes and white sand beaches.”
“Then you’ve come to the wrong place,” a flight attendant said with a teasing grin as she handed the man his suit coat.
Dylan hoped he wasn’t in the wrong place. When his brother had suggested he come home to have the surgery on his shoulder, his first instinct had been to say no. There were good doctors in Miami, which would have been a lot closer than Minnesota to Saint Martin.
Unfortunately, Miami was also where Andrea lived. Dylan knew that had he chosen to get medical treatment there, the flight attendant would have assumed he’d had a change of heart about their relationship. He hadn’t.
That’s why he’d allowed Garret to convince him to have the surgery on his shoulder at home. Now, as the plane taxied closer to the gate, Dylan wondered if he would have been better off going with his first instinct.
Saint Paul wasn’t his home anymore. In the past thirteen years he’d seldom visited, and when he had come to see his family, he’d never stayed more than a few days. Now he was planning to spend six weeks in the snow and cold.
Again he had the uneasy feeling he’d made a mistake. Memories of the last time he was home flashed in his mind. There’d been arguments over things that now seemed unimportant. What was the best way to memorialize his father? Who should be in charge of what arrangements?
Accusations had been made, insults had been hurled. Not the kind of scene anyone wanted or needed when grieving.
As the oldest son, Dylan had wanted to make those few days of mourning easier for his mother. Instead he’d only made them more difficult. Now as he grabbed his carry-on bag from the overhead compartment, he realized she was the true reason he’d come back to Saint Paul to have the surgery.
Although Garret had emphasized the reputation of the medical staff available to him at the hospital, Dylan knew there had been an unspoken message in that phone call. Coming home would be an opportunity for him to put right what had gone wrong two years ago. This trip wouldn’t be to simply mend his shoulder, but to try to fix his relationship with his family, as well. They both knew it and Dylan suspected that his mother did, too.
As he walked out of the jetway into the airport terminal, he searched for her face in the crowd gathered at the gate.
“Dylan! Over here!”
At the sound of the man’s voice, he turned and saw his brother Shane standing off to one side of the arrival gate. If there was one person Dylan hadn’t expected to see at the airport it was Shane, not after the sharp words they’d exchanged the last time they’d been together.
Dylan knew that the grief over their father’s death and the stress of the funeral were partly to blame for the tension that had existed between them after their father’s death. He also knew that not all of the blame could be assigned to the difficult circumstances.
Of the four brothers, Dylan and Shane had always had the most tumultuous relationship. Being only eleven months apart, they’d been extremely competitive and had often found themselves at odds with each other. Whatever Dylan had done well, Shane had always wanted to do better.
It was a rivalry their mother had done her best to discourage, often telling the two boys they were supposed to support, not fight, each other. She was the peacemaker of the family, forever assuring them that one day they would be the best of friends.
Their father, though, hadn’t seen anything wrong with their relationship. He believed it was healthy for the two of them to challenge each other.
Dylan wondered if that wasn’t the reason Shane had reacted the way he had at the time of his father’s death. When Dylan had tried to make decisions on behalf of the family, Shane had challenged his right to assume that responsibility. The friendship their mother had promised they’d have was nowhere to be found. He’d wondered then if she’d been wrong. Maybe they would never be friends.
When his brother greeted him with a smile, he had reason to hope they could.
“Welcome home, Dylan. How’s the shoulder?” Shane asked, sounding more like the kid who had played catch with him in the backyard than the man who’d confronted him in anger at their father’s funeral.
“Garret tells me it’ll be fine in a few weeks. It’s good to see you, Shane,” he said, realizing that it was the truth. He had missed his brother.
“You look good. Your hair’s lighter,” Shane noted.
Automatically Dylan ran a hand through his hair. “That’s from working in the sun. I’m surprised to see you here. I thought Mom was picking me up.”
“She wanted to, but when your flight was delayed I offered to come so she wouldn’t have to miss her class.” Before Dylan could ask him what class, Shane looked to his right and said, “Mickey. Come say hello to your uncle.”
It was then that Dylan realized that his brother wasn’t alone. Standing only a few feet away, watching the airplanes taxi across the runway, was a small boy who looked like a miniature Shane. At the sound of his father’s voice, he came running toward them.
“Remember Mickey?” Shane asked Dylan as the boy barreled into his legs.
“That’s the baby?” Dylan stared at him in astonishment.
“I’m not a baby. I’m four,” Mickey declared, holding up four fingers.
“Mickey, say hello to your uncle,” Shane ordered.
“Hi, Uncle Dylan.”
Dylan stooped so that he was eye level with his nephew. “Hey, Mickey. How’s it going? Can you give me five?” He held out his hand and the four-year-old smacked it in delight.
“We saw your plane come down. It went really fast.” His eyes widened at the memory. He glanced toward the window and said, “Look! There goes another one!”
Dylan watched him scramble over to press his face against the glass. “I can’t get over how much he’s changed.”
“Yeah, well, kids grow up fast and it has been over two years since you were home,” his brother reminded him, in a tone that held more than a hint of admonishment.
Dylan fought the temptation to defend himself, knowing it would only add tension to their conversation. He said simply, “He’s a good-looking kid.”
Shane nodded, then extended his hand toward his son. “Come on, Mickey. We need to get Uncle Dylan’s luggage. Do you have your mittens?”
“They’re in my pockets.”
Shane looked at Dylan’s short-sleeved shirt. “I don’t suppose you own any winter clothes.”
“It seldom goes below seventy-two in Saint Martin,” he said with a half smile.
“You can probably buy a parka in one of the shops here at the airport. They’ve practically made this place into a shopping mall.”
Dylan gave his brother’s shoulder a playful punch. “You’re dealing with an ex Boy Scout. Remember our motto? Be Prepared.” He grinned. “I have a leather jacket in one of my suitcases.”
“Then we better go.” He looked down at Mickey. “Take my hand so you don’t get lost,” he instructed as they merged into the crush of people heading toward the baggage claim area.
The four-year-old not only grabbed on to his father, but Dylan as well. His tiny hand felt soft against Dylan’s palm. As they walked through the crowded concourse, Dylan thought about how familiar yet how strange he felt walking alongside Shane and Mickey. Looking at his brother, he felt that thirteen years hadn’t passed, yet all he had to do was look at his nephew to realize how much everything had changed.
Feeling the need to make small talk, Dylan asked, “How have things been going for you?”
“Not bad,” Shane responded.
“How’s Jennifer?”
“She’s good. You’ll see for yourself. She’s at the house with the rest of the women. Maddie’s doing her thing.”
Maddie. There was that name again. Whenever Dylan had spoken to his mother in the past two years, that name had crept into the conversation. Even Garret had mentioned her when he’d called.
He had to ask, “Who’s Maddie? One of the college students living with Mom?”
“She lives with Mom but she’s not in college. You’ve met her…Maddie Lamont. She came and stayed with us one summer. Long hair pulled back in one of those big clips, glasses, real skinny.”
“Are you talking about that scrawny little Madeline from North Dakota? The one who was always dancing even when there wasn’t any music playing?”
“Yeah, only she goes by Maddie now.”
“She showed me how to dance. Want to see?” Mickey dropped both hands and began to wiggle.
“Not now, Mick. We’re in the middle of traffic,” Shane said, grabbing his hand and getting them moving again.
“She was a couple of years younger than I was so she must be what…late twenties?” Dylan tried to remember the summer she’d stayed with them.
Shane shrugged. “Somewhere around there.”
They passed another set of windows and Mickey said, “Oh-oh. It’s snowing again.”
Dylan asked, “You like the snow, Mickey?”
“Yeah, but Daddy’s gonna get crabby because he hates driving when it’s snowin’ out.”
Shane met Dylan’s glance. “The roads are actually in pretty good shape considering the storm that passed through here.”
Feeling as if he’d imposed on his brother, Dylan said, “You didn’t have to come get me. I could have taken a taxi to Mom’s.”
“If Mom had thought you were taking a taxi, she would have changed her plans and come and picked you up herself.”
Again Dylan wondered about those plans, but before he could ask, Mickey announced in an urgent tone, “Daddy, I have to go to the baffroom.”
They had reached the baggage claim area and Shane turned to Dylan. “Why don’t you find your luggage and I’ll meet you back here after I’ve taken him to the men’s room?”
Dylan nodded just as an alarm sounded indicating the bags would soon be tumbling down the conveyor belt. As he watched a steady stream of suitcases go by, his thoughts wandered back to that summer when Madeline Lamont had shown up at the house.
He remembered his mother giving him and his brothers orders that they were to treat her as if she were their sister. Dylan knew it was a warning not to think of her as a possible girlfriend—as if he, a senior in high school, would ever consider dating a freshman.
Once he’d seen what she looked like, he knew there was little chance of his being tempted to regard her as anything but a friend of the family’s. Shane was right. She’d been as thin as a post and about as shapeless. She’d looked to be all arms and legs as she twirled and spun her way through the house.
As he hoisted his luggage from the carousel, he remembered something else about her, too. She was smart. She could beat Garret at chess—something neither he nor Shane had been able to accomplish. And when his mother had trouble doing the crossword puzzle in the Sunday paper, Madeline was the one she’d ask for help.
Skinny, smart, shy Madeline.
She’d never been particularly friendly toward him. Actually, when he thought about it, she’d treated him with a disdain he hadn’t understood. Not that it had mattered at the time. She was closer to Garret’s age than she was to his and those two had gotten along just fine.
“Got everything?” Shane interrupted his musings.
“Yeah. Just let me get my jacket out of my suitcase.” When he had the dark brown leather jacket zipped up, he said, “Let’s go.”
On the way to his mother’s house, Shane talked to Dylan as if he were a visitor, telling him about the local professional sports teams’ successes and pointing out changes to the Twin Cities skyline. Listening to him made Dylan realize just how little attention he’d given to what had been happening to his family while he’d been in Saint Martin. It wasn’t that he hadn’t cared, because he had. But work had always taken precedence over everything else in his life, including his personal relationships.
Not wanting to be treated like a stranger, he said, “Shane, I can read about the basketball team in the paper. Tell me what’s been happening with Mom and the rest of the family.”
“What do you want to know?”
He shrugged. “The usual stuff. What’s this new job Mom has? She said something about writing a column for the paper?”
“Yeah, she really likes it.”
“What kind of column is it? Helpful household hints?”
“She hasn’t told you what she writes?” he asked with a frown.
“Is it a secret or something?”
He shrugged. “No, but since it’s her work, she should probably be the one to tell you about it.”
His comment only intensified the feeling Dylan had that he wasn’t a family member returning home, but rather a guest coming to visit. Determined not to be put off by his brother’s attitude, he asked, “What about her renting out rooms to college students? Has that been working out all right?”
“Sure, it’s been good for Mom. Are you worried about having to stay in a house full of women?”
Dylan chuckled and, before he could respond, his brother added, “Now that was a dumb question, wasn’t it? Since when have you ever objected to being around women?”
“I love being around them. Living with them is another thing,” he said with a sly grin.
