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“You look tired.” Her mother zeroed in with the laser focus that she had for all her kids and brushed back a lock of Mal’s hair. “Are you getting enough sleep?”
“I’m fine, Mom, and I’m getting plenty of sleep.” And on those nights when she wasn’t, she worked, so it wasn’t as though she tossed and turned or lay on her back staring at the ceiling, contemplating sheep jumping a fence.
“You need to take care of yourself.” Evelyn brushed back the lock of hair again. Like all guests at the wedding, Evelyn wore pristine white. In her case, a crisp white suit showed off her figure and demonstrated why she easily passed for ten years younger than the age on her driver’s license. “I worry about you. About what happens when you don’t take care of yourself.”
Health was a newly discovered focal point for all the Fords, as it was just over a year ago that Mal’s father, Gus, had suffered a heart attack. Suddenly eating reasonably well and exercising occasionally hadn’t been enough. Mal had taken up Pilates, Owen had started running more regularly and was apparently eating egg whites, and Donovan had begun walking everywhere. Mal’s father had taken up gardening while Evelyn had developed an obsession with making sure everyone ate their greens.
But the changes had been worth it. Her dad had bounced back with a new lease on life and a new attitude. One that he’d turned into a contract to do whatever he wanted. First, it had been his vegetable garden, then nosing around in his kids’ personal lives, followed by the decision to hand over the reins of the family business to his three children.
Mal still wasn’t sure her mother was over the loss of her flower bed by the side of the house—the once beautiful magenta peonies razed to make way for tomatoes and cucumbers. Or that’s what Evelyn pretended, which Mal now suspected had just been a ploy to get the backyard greenhouse she’d been hinting at for the last five years.
“I’m taking care of myself,” she told her mother. “I eat right and Grace and I still go to Pilates three mornings a week.” Even on Saturdays, which had once been her day for lounging in yoga pants with a vat of hot coffee, a cinnamon bun, the crossword and a pen.
“I know.” The line between Evelyn’s eyebrows eased slightly as she nodded. “But it’s a mother’s right to worry about her children.” She fussed with the high collar of Mal’s dress, smoothing it down. “Have you spoken with Travis?”
Mal forced herself not to react, not to flinch or rear back, even though her bare fingers suddenly seemed to burn with the weight of the missing ring. “Only for a couple of minutes.” Which had been plenty. Even if she still felt as if that final bit of closure continued to elude her.
“And you’re okay?” Evelyn’s dark-brown eyes, the same color as Mal’s, darted up to meet hers.
Mal fiddled with her hair, the chocolate color, like her eyes, inherited from her mother. “I’m not going to throw myself into the Pacific Ocean, if that’s what you’re asking.” Just how bad did she look, anyway? Travis was an ex and their breakup had been painful, but it hardly required the family to treat her as though she was glass—fragile, easily shattered. But then, there was Owen...
Mal felt the beginning of a scowl twist her lips. Owen and his ham-fisted attempts at creating conversations could definitely treat her more delicately.
Evelyn frowned. “That was certainly not what I was asking.” She waved at her husband who was never far from his wife’s side when they were in the same general area. “Gus. Come take a look at your daughter.”
“Hello, love.” Gus pressed a kiss to his wife’s cheek, then his daughter’s. “Hello, princess.”
“I thought we agreed to call Owen princess.”
Gus laughed long and loud. “We did. But not on his wedding day.” Anyone who didn’t know about Gus’s heart attack would never guess he’d suffered one from looking at him today. He was tall and slim. He and Evelyn had recently taken up cycling and were talking about a trip to Europe to see the sights on a bike tour. He looked very much like his sons, with just a few more wrinkles and a little extra gray at the temples. “Exactly what am I looking at?”
Mal shrugged. “Mom’s being crazy.”
“She looks tired, doesn’t she?” Evelyn said at the same time. She lowered her voice, though the other guests were far enough away that there was little chance of being overheard. “She talked to Travis.”
The confusion on Gus’s face cleared. “I see.”
Mal just bet he did. That they all did. “As I already told Mom, I’m fine.” Bad enough that she had to deal with her own emotions at seeing the ex she thought she’d left behind, but dealing with her family’s concern on top of it was getting to be too much. And she was fine. So fine. Even if Travis was moving back.
She ignored the thump of her heart.
“Wasn’t the wedding gorgeous?” Because Mal could think of no better way to change the subject than to do it herself.
But these were her parents she was talking to and they weren’t so easily conned. “I think she’s trying to pull a fast one,” Gus said to his wife while Evelyn nodded.
“It’s not a fast one.” Mal held her hands out. Nothing up my sleeves, folks. “I’m simply commenting on the beauty of the day, which is what normal people do at a wedding.”
“We’re normal?” Gus feigned a shocked look. “Don’t you remember when she was a teenager and she used to tell us we were from another planet because we didn’t get her?”
“And how she used to make us drop her off a block from school if she couldn’t get a ride with her cool brothers?”
“I was thirteen. It was a phase.” Mal felt herself falling back into those old teen habits and stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Barely. She put her hands on her hips instead. “And I wouldn’t have had to behave that way if you’d been able to get me and understand that climbing out of the family minivan on the first day of school would forever taint my chance of high school popularity.”
“High aspirations,” her mother said and pulled her into another hug. “I’m not sure how you managed to survive our parenting.”
“Sometimes I wonder that, too.” But Mal leaned into her mother’s arms and rested her chin on her mother’s head, which earned her a swat.
“You know I don’t like it when you do that.” But there was a twinkle in Evelyn’s eye. “It makes me feel short.”
“You are short,” Mal and Gus said in unison.
“You should appreciate my height more.” Evelyn straightened the cuffs of her winter-white suit jacket. “Who else would you find to lord your own height over if not for me?”
“Your mother has a point.”
Mal nodded and followed her dad’s lead when he curved his arms around his wife so that the two of them surrounded her completely. Their eyes met over Evelyn’s head and without a word or even a signal, they both leaned forward to rest their chins on her head.
Evelyn might have been six inches shorter than Mal, and more than that compared to her husband, but her slight stature didn’t stop her from being the bossiest member of the Ford clan. “Very funny.” But even she couldn’t help laughing.
The easy warmth comforted Mal. This was what she wanted out of life. A happy family and a devoted relationship. She let her parents wrap her up in the security of their love; she reveled in it. Just for a minute. And when they all stepped back, she felt better. Less fragile. “Thanks.”
“For what?” Her mother reached up to pat her cheek.
“For being my parents.” It was a little sappy. Okay, it was a lot sappy, but that didn’t make it any less true.
Her mother hugged her again and her dad’s voice sounded a little tight. “We love you, sweetheart. You know that.”
She did, and it was good.
They chatted a few more minutes, talking about whether they should get up early and take the first ferry back home to Vancouver or stay a little longer and explore Salt Spring. The three of them, plus her older brother, Donovan, and his wife, Julia, were all staying in a huge farmhouse about ten minutes away. The place had eight bedrooms and an enormous kitchen that Julia had already called dibs on. Since Julia was a professional chef, and an excellent one at that, they were more than happy to let her take over the space.
When her parents headed off to go and talk to some friends, Mal was feeling much better. And when Grace slipped up to stand beside her, Mal felt better yet.
The two of them had become friends a few months ago. It was a friendship that Mal was grateful to have. Somehow, she’d allowed most of her personal life to fall by the wayside this last year. Instead of turning to her loved ones, she’d held herself apart, filling her time with work and not much else.
But with Grace it had been different. Maybe because Grace didn’t know her from before and had no preconceived notions of what Mal should be like. Whatever it was, Mal appreciated what they had.
“Hello beautiful bride.” She wasn’t just saying it, either. Grace, with her long legs and silky blond hair was attractive at any time, but glowing with love and being loved? She was stunning.
“Everything okay?” Grace’s tone was gentle. Obviously she was still concerned after Mal’s little fit at the side of the house.
“Of course. A small overreaction for which I apologize.”
“It wasn’t an overreaction.” Grace shook her head. “Your brother, my husband, doesn’t always know when to mind his own business.” But she smiled when she said it.
“Anyway, I’m fine.” Mal pasted on a smile. Her issues were her own and not something she would unload on a friend on her wedding day. Talk about a downer.
But Grace merely lifted a pale blond eyebrow. “Right. So the way you’re so obviously not looking anywhere to your left has nothing to do with the fact that a handsome and tanned man just happens to be standing over there studying you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mal tried to lift her nose, but not before curiosity got the best of her and she risked a peek to her left. What better way to show Grace and herself that she wasn’t afraid to look anywhere than by checking out just what Grace was talking about?
She immediately wished she hadn’t.
Travis stared back at her, a soft smile that she remembered all too well on his lips and heat in his eyes. Even thirty feet away with small groups of other guests between them, Mal could feel the sizzle rock the length of her spine. She shuddered.
“That’s what I thought.” Grace’s voice broke into Mal’s thoughts. “You still want to tell me you’re fine?”
“Yes.” Because she sure wasn’t going to admit that she wasn’t. “What else would I be?”
“Upset, rattled, confused.” Grace counted them off on her fingers. “I could go on.”
“You could, but I’m fine.” Though she’d been more fine before she became aware of Travis’s eyes on her. Didn’t he have somewhere else to look?
“Maybe you should talk to him.”
“I have talked to him.” Okay, so she hadn’t unloaded the thoughts rattling around in her head, making her stomach tight. Thoughts like: How could you not be there when I needed you the most? How could you choose the business over me? How could you let me go without a fight?
Grace nodded, her eyes probing for another moment. “Mal, if you—”
“I’m fine, Grace. This is your day. You’re not supposed to be worrying about me.”
“Of course I’m going to worry about you. You’re family and I love you.” Grace put an arm around Mal. “And I just want to be clear that should you need to talk, I’m here. Or if you need a shoulder to cry on, mine are pretty big.”
Mal smiled through the prickling behind her eyes. “Owen doesn’t know how lucky he is to have you.”
“He does.” Grace leaned forward so their heads were nearly touching. “I tell him regularly.”
Mal laughed. Grace had been good for her brother in so many ways. In fact, Grace had been good for her, too. “Thanks.” Mallory felt a little better.
“And when you’re up to it, remind me to tell you about my failed attempts at dating via matchmaker.”
Mal craned her neck to look at her. There was a twinkle in Grace’s eye, but not one that indicated she was joking. “Oh, I’m up to it, and that’s an awfully juicy piece of intel to keep from me, one of your nearest and dearest friends. Tell me.”
Grace smiled. “It was before Owen. Well, actually, it was between Owen. It did not go well. Except that it made clear to me that the only man I wanted to be with was your brother.”
“Something I still don’t understand.”
Grace squeezed her. “Be nice, because I’m about to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”
“Shouldn’t I hear it first?”
Grace gave her another hard squeeze. “Anyway, it was my failed attempt at getting over your brother. I only went on one date, but I’d paid for the full service. Social dinners, one-on-one dates, personalized matches.”
Mal met Grace’s expectant look. “Are you trying to gift me your matchmaking services?” Because while she was coming to the realization that her work-life balance was completely off, she wasn’t sure she wanted to dive into the deep end of the dating pool. Maybe wiggle her toes around and wade in slowly. “I’m not sure.”
“No pressure, but I think you should consider it.” Grace slowly turned her head, shot a pointed look over Mal’s shoulder. Mal knew she was looking at Travis. “Unless you’ve got your eye on someone else?”
“I don’t.” Mal felt she needed to be clear on that. “But not having my eye on someone else and joining a matchmaking service don’t exactly go together.”
But she’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel at least a spark of interest. Even if it was just to show Travis how thoroughly she’d moved on. And it was probably time she started dating again. She hadn’t been on a date in—she paused to mentally calculate—four years. Not since Travis had walked into her first year master’s course, Foundations of Managerial Economics, sat down beside her and asked her to have coffee with him after class. The rest, as they say, was history.
Too bad it was a history she’d rather forget.
“I think it might be good for you.”
“And it might not.” But instinct had her head swiveling to look in Travis’s direction again. Common sense had her stopping short and returning her gaze to Grace before she could embarrass herself. Again.
“You sure you don’t have something or someone else in mind?” There was a teasing note in Grace’s tone.
Mal gave what she hoped was an airy toss of her head. “I repeat, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t.” Grace didn’t bother to hide her smirk.
Mal decided to ignore that. Not that Grace wasn’t right. Nope, the problem was that Grace was right and Mal wasn’t fooling anyone. She exhaled. Still, she wasn’t ready to give in so easily. Because down that road lay danger. She’d be admitting her leftover feelings for Travis to Grace, who would mention it to Owen who, along with his warped idea that she and Travis might actually have a future together, would try to throw them together and then...who knew?
No, it was best to bury any lingering feelings she might have and move on. Maybe now, faced with the object of her discontent, she’d find it easier to work toward that goal. It was certainly no longer abstract.
“So, what do you say?” Grace gave her an encouraging nod. “You willing to give it a try?”
Mal knew she should say yes. Really, what could the harm be? That she didn’t meet anyone? She already wasn’t meeting anyone. That someone might break her heart? At this point, she wasn’t sure it could ever be put back together again anyway. “I...I’m not sure.”
Grace’s eyes tilted down at the corners. “What about if I asked you to do it as my wedding present?”
What was it with Grace and Owen wanting her to do something as their wedding gift? “I already bought you something amazing.”
But Grace didn’t respond, just watched her with hopeful eyes. Mal couldn’t deny those hopeful eyes.
She huffed out a breath. “Fine. I’ll do it.” And hoped she wouldn’t live to regret it.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_4bf4b512-46b2-5620-be05-456759973748)
TRAVIS SPENT THE two weeks post wedding not in a state of wedded bliss. But since he hadn’t been the one to get married, that didn’t come as much of a surprise. The lack of other bliss was more disappointing.
Sure, it might have been foolish to think that simply by apologizing Mal might forgive him. But she wouldn’t even agree to talk to him. He didn’t count the few minutes of conversation at the reception because...well, because he didn’t. He still had some things to say. Many somethings.
Fortunately, he had plenty to keep him busy so that he only spent half his time thinking about Mal, calling Mal and thinking about calling Mal. Okay, maybe a little more than half. Three quarters, tops.
He looked out the car window as Sara Thompson, his real estate agent, drove and chatted about the next potential bar location on the list.
The city hadn’t changed much in the three years he’d been away. There was new construction, but that was the norm these days. A formerly derelict hotel had been torn down to make way for new condos, more coffee shops, another few sushi restaurants. One of the good things about the constant gentrification and renovation was that there was always property for sale, and property was something Travis needed.
He had no intention of returning to Vancouver to work for someone else. No, now he had a taste for ownership, for being the boss. And now he had enough money to qualify for a loan on his own and no longer needed another signatory or the financial backing of an investor. It was a good feeling. Proof that he’d made it.
The Kincaids weren’t well-to-do. Travis hadn’t grown up with much. A small house with well-loved furniture, two pairs of shoes, two pairs of jeans—one set for church, one set for everyday—and the knowledge that if he wanted more than the tiny town where he’d been born, he’d have to do it on his own.
But they’d had love. His mother and grandma were quick to shower affection and praise, even his father, in his own silent way, showed he cared. A small proud smile, a solid clap on the back and a grunt for a job well done. Travis knew he and his brother, Shane, had been lucky. Many of the kids they’d gone to school with hadn’t been so fortunate as to have that love and support.
Until Travis, the Kincaids had always been blue collar and they liked it that way. He was different. The thought of working at the mill, running the machines, driving the forklift, always with the worry of closure hanging over his head as more and more companies downsized or shut down completely just wasn’t for him.
