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“You’re going to need a name,” Delaney murmured. Picking one out would be fun for Keira, and a distraction from the pain of her recovery. She might not have any serious injuries, but she was going to be sore for a while.
Delaney carried the sleeping kitten up to the front door. The house had been built back in the 1940s, but modernized over the years. A ramp led from the driveway to the front door. Delaney took the stairs, then glanced at the specially modified van parked by the ramp. Her dad had come a long way, she thought, grateful for his recovery. She knocked once, then let herself in the unlocked front door.
“Hi,” she called. “It’s me.”
“Hi, pumpkin,” her dad called. “We’re back here.”
Back here meant the kitchen, Delaney thought with a smile. Because that was where everyone always was in this house.
The kitchen was large and open, more great room than just a space to prepare meals. There was a big table in the middle, a wood-burning fireplace in the corner and a couple of worn sofas by the back windows. On the opposite wall were the cabinets, the stove and a large island.
When her father saw her, he grinned and wheeled toward her. “How’s my best girl?”
Phil Holbrook was a broad-shouldered, well-muscled man in his midfifties. Despite his inability to walk, he kept himself in shape and never let on that he found his wheelchair a problem.
“I’m good, Dad.” She leaned over to hug him, then handed him the carrier. “This is the unexpected little friend I mentioned.”
Beryl, a petite blonde two years older than Phil, came out from around the island and took the carrier. “Oh, she’s precious. How old is she?”
“The vet thinks nine or ten weeks. She was probably abandoned.”
Beryl looked at Phil. “Oh, honey, a homeless kitten.”
“No,” Phil said mildly. “We’re not getting a kitten. This one already has a home.”
“But what about another homeless kitten?”
“We’re going to start traveling. We’ve got that European cruise booked for September. What would we do with a cat?”
Beryl looked pleadingly at Delaney. “Maybe you could keep her.”
“Oh, I’m so staying out of this,” she said with a laugh.
“Travel,” Phil said mildly. “Lots and lots of travel.”
Beryl mock pouted. “I hate it when you’re sensible.”
“No, you don’t.”
She lightly kissed him. “No, I don’t.”
Delaney set the carrier on the floor by the sofa. Beryl and her family had always been a fixture in Delaney’s life from the time she was born. When Phil had been unexpectedly widowed and left with a newborn to care for, the neighborhood women had stepped in to help. Each mom had taken a shift, allowing Phil to go back to work. Delaney had grown up with Beryl’s three kids, including Tim who was four years older than she was. The families had been close with Tim following in Phil’s footsteps, career wise. After getting his associates degree, he’d joined the Seattle Police Department.
Ten years ago, Beryl had lost her husband to cancer and the neighborhood had rallied again. When Phil had been shot in the same ambush that killed Tim, Beryl and Delaney had gotten each other through the initial shock and grief.
Delaney wasn’t sure when friendship had turned to more between the neighbors, but she was glad her father had finally found someone to love. He was recovered enough to have a relatively normal life and now he had someone to share it with. A few months before, he’d proposed to Beryl and she’d accepted. They were getting married in a quiet ceremony in late August, then taking their first cruise together in September.
Beryl straightened. “Go ahead,” she told Delaney. “Your kitten will be fine until you’re back. And while you’re gone, I’ll put together some food for you to take home. You’re not eating enough.”
“I’m eating plenty.”
Beryl didn’t look convinced. “You’re thinner every time I see you.”
“I wish that were true,” Delaney said with a laugh. “All right, I’m off to the pet store. I won’t be long.”
She’d told Malcolm she would keep Keira’s kitten until Keira was home and able to take care of it herself. She’d half expected him to protest, saying his sister couldn’t keep the kitten, but he’d only thanked her for helping.
As she slid behind the wheel of her car and started the engine, she admitted she was having trouble reconciling the confident suit-wearing guy she knew from the office to the shell-shocked brother she’d met at the hospital. She still couldn’t believe Malcolm was Keira’s asshole brother.
From what Keira had told her, she’d been living in foster care in Los Angeles when she’d been found by her long-lost family. Malcolm had flown down to LA to bring her to Seattle. Once settled in her fancy digs, she’d been enrolled at the very upscale Puget Sound Preparatory Academy and pretty much left on her own.
Delaney hadn’t known how much of Keira’s story was true and how much of it wasn’t. Now she was even less sure. Not that she thought anyone was starving the preteen or beating her, but benign neglect wasn’t exactly nurturing.
Malcolm seemed like a decent guy so what was going on at home? Was it possible he simply didn’t know what to do with a twelve-year-old? And what about the grandfather? Where was he in all this?
Delaney sighed. Maybe she was exaggerating the problem. Maybe there wasn’t a problem at all. She would have to scope things out when she returned the kitten and then... Well, she didn’t know what, but she’d been raised to take care of anyone in need and if she thought Keira needed her, she would be there in a heartbeat.
chapter five (#u3d8ccde5-67ec-5c12-9000-a4f15836f45a)
“I’m worried,” Grandfather Alberto said as he sipped his morning coffee. “Keira is so young, so small. What a terrible thing to have happened.”
“She’s recovering. The doctor said she’s going to be fine. Carmen is taking her to her pediatrician tomorrow.” Malcolm paused, not knowing what else to say to comfort the old man.
Carmen had kept the news about Keira’s accident from Alberto until Malcolm had confirmed his granddaughter was going to be all right. Still, Alberto had gone pale and even two days after her accident, he was more frail than Malcolm had ever seen him. His breakfast—oatmeal, two poached eggs and a bowl of fresh fruit—sat untouched. More uncomfortable, it was after seven and he hadn’t bothered to dress yet. This from a man who was up by five thirty and in a suit and tie well before breakfast.
“I sat with her yesterday.” Alberto’s gaze was fixed on the table. “She slept so much.”
“They gave her painkillers. I’m sure they knocked her out. Plus she has to heal from the accident. She has bumps and bruises. She was lucky.” It could have been a whole lot worse. Or deadly, Malcolm thought grimly.
The driver of the Prius had been interviewed by the police. He had no record of DUIs, had tested negative for alcohol and drugs, and hadn’t had a speeding ticket in nearly a decade. Keira had run into the street without looking and the driver had done the best he could.
“What if we’d lost her?” Alberto asked, raising his troubled gaze to Malcolm’s face. “I don’t think I could take that.”
And there it went—the knife of guilt sliding in over ribs, right to the heart. Malcolm knew the words weren’t meant to be a stab, but he felt the slicing all the same.
“We didn’t lose her.” In a desperate attempt to raise his grandfather’s spirits he said, “We’ll get the DNA tests today.”
Alberto brightened. “Yes, you’re right. I look forward to knowing my other granddaughter will soon be on her way to join us.” His tension eased as his shoulders squared. “You’re right. We were lucky with Keira. She could have been badly hurt and she wasn’t. It’s a sign. Now Callie will join us and our family will be complete.” He smiled at Malcolm. “You’re a good man. I trust you, Malcolm.”
Words that should have made him feel better and didn’t. “I’m going to stay home with Keira this morning, then head to the office in the afternoon.”
Alberto smiled. “She’ll enjoy spending time with you.”
Malcolm had his doubts, but he was committed now. Besides, what had happened at the hospital had shown him how little he knew Keira. She’d been living in the house two months and he barely knew anything about her. Carmen had stepped in to take care of things and he’d let her.
He finished his coffee. As he rose, he gently squeezed his grandfather’s shoulder before heading upstairs. When Malcolm and his mother had first arrived in Seattle, Jerry hadn’t been the least bit interested in having a son, but Alberto had been thrilled to discover he had a grandson. He’d welcomed both into the family home. Jerry had lived elsewhere, something Malcolm later learned to appreciate.
With Alberto, everything was easy. There was plenty of conversation and laughter, warmth and safety. With Jerry—Malcolm shook his head. He couldn’t remember ever spending even a single meal alone with his father. Jerry had been nearly as absent after Malcolm had become a fixture in his life as before. He had no interest in his son and little interest in Alberto.
In contrast, Alberto had wanted to be a part of everything Malcolm did. He’d taken him to the business each week, after school, introducing him to the wonder that was Alberto’s Alfresco. He’d attended parent-teacher evenings and every game when Malcolm had signed up for the soccer team. When Malcolm had lost his mother, Alberto had been the one to hold him while he sobbed out his pain. Jerry hadn’t even come to the funeral.
Years later, after Jerry had died, Malcolm had moved back into the big house on the lake. He knew his grandfather wasn’t getting any younger and wanted to spend time with him while he could.
At the top of the stairs, the landing became a long hallway. To the left was his suite of rooms, to the right were two additional suites. Keira had the corner rooms at the far end, chosen for the big windows and amount of light they let in. Carmen had been worried that a child from sunny Los Angeles would find winter in Seattle too dreary. Malcolm had thought nothing about Keira’s personal space beyond the fact that it was mercifully far from his own.
He liked to think he was inexperienced when it came to children rather than the asshole brother Keira’s phone had proclaimed, but he had a feeling she was more correct than him.
He walked down the hall, then knocked on the partially open door. “It’s Malcolm. May I come in?”
There was a very long pause followed by a soft “Yes.”
Keira lay in the middle of her full-size bed. She looked impossibly small and pale against the lavender linens, her freckles and eyes the only color on her face.
The bed was against the far wall, giving her a view out large windows. She had the corner room. On the second wall of windows were a built-in window seat and a desk. Opposite them were custom bookshelves and a large dresser for storage.
Her suite was the mirror image of his at the opposite end of the house. He knew there was a large second room that had been decorated as a playroom-hanging out space for her and a full bathroom. His second room had been converted into a home office.
Carmen had picked out the furniture and arranged for the remodel and installation. Malcolm had done little beyond nod when shown the color palette she’d chosen. Now he wondered if Keira liked the room or not, because God knew he’d never bothered to ask.
He pulled her desk chair over to the bed and sat down close to her. The untouched breakfast tray sat on her nightstand.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “My head hurts but the painkillers help. I’m going to get up later and walk around. Carmen says I need to get my blood flowing.”
“Makes sense. The plan is for you to stay home until Monday, unless your pediatrician changes things tomorrow. I’ve spoken with your counselor at school. Your assignments are posted online and I’ll pick up the rest of your books later. Everyone agrees you can wait until you feel up to starting on your homework.”
Her blue gaze was steady, her mouth a straight line. “So if I think I’m not ready, I don’t have to do anything?”
“Not for now.”
“Isn’t that ridiculous? What if I say I’m never ready to start studying? How do you know I won’t take advantage? Maybe I’m perfectly fine and should go back to school today.”
He swore silently, realizing once again he was the least equipped person to be dealing with a twelve-year-old kid. He had no idea of what to say or think or how to act. She was a mystery to him, and not a fun one. She looked like their maternal grandmother and enough like Jerry to make him wary, but her personality was all her own.
“Keira, you were hit by a car. I think you get a break for a day or two.” He hesitated. “Do you want to go back to your classes today?”
Tears filled her eyes. For one horrifying second, he thought she was going to start crying, but then she blinked several times and shook her head. “No. I’ll stay home until Monday. But I’ll start doing my homework as soon as my headache goes away.”
Was a headache normal? Should he offer her something? He gritted his teeth and reminded himself that Carmen was handling the medications. Better that it stay in the capable hands of one person.
“What about the kitten?”
At first he wasn’t sure what she was referring to, then he remembered the scraggly-looking creature Delaney had carried into the ER.
Delaney—now there was a problem without a solution. He’d done his best to avoid thinking about her, although at some point they were going to have to talk. He owed her. He had no idea what she thought of him, but based on how she’d glared at him while they’d been discussing Keira, she no longer found him the least bit appealing. Not that he cared about her or her opinion, it was only—
“Malcolm!”
What? Oh, right. “The kitten.”
“Yes. I’ve been saving my allowance. I don’t know how much it costs to buy litter and stuff but maybe instead of giving me the money, you could use it to buy food and a scratchy post. Cats need to sharpen their claws.” Her jaw tightened and her chin raised ever so slightly. “Because I’m keeping the kitten.”
He was more taken aback by the gesture than the words. Not that it looked familiar, but because he knew what it felt like to do it, mostly because he did it himself when he was backed into a corner. The gesture was a combination of defiance and bravado—a message to himself and whoever had provoked the sensation of being trapped.
On the heels of that revelation, he was forced to deal with the reality of what her words meant. Keira was concerned about having to pay for a pet. The guilt knife turned a couple more times, reminding him that if there was a way to screw up relationships in his family, he’d probably done each at least twice.
“You’re welcome to keep the kitten—” he began, only to have her interrupt.
“It’s just a kitten. Even cats aren’t that big and I’ll totally take care of her. I’ll put the litter box in the alcove in my playroom and keep her in my rooms. She’ll be fine.”
He smiled. “Like I said, you’re welcome to keep the kitten.”
Her fierceness faded a little. “Oh. Thank you.”
“Tell Carmen what you need and she’ll get it. We’ll have to have it checked out by a vet.”
“Delaney already took her in. She texted me and told me and that she’s a girl and she’s pretty skinny but healthy otherwise. Lizzy is nine or ten weeks old. They think she was just abandoned.” Keira’s mouth trembled. She paused for a second, as if to gather self-control, then continued. “She’ll need vaccinations, though. Do you want my savings for that?”
He didn’t know if he should swear, throw something or take off for Bali. Instead he leaned toward his sister and did his best to look friendly rather than frustrated. “Keira, I will pay for whatever your kitten needs. Food, scratching posts, toys, vaccinations. Just tell Carmen, all right?”
“What if she needs surgery?”
“It’s covered.”
“Good, because she’ll need to be spayed when she’s six months old. It’s the responsible thing to do.”
“I’m glad you know that.”
“What if she needs a heart transplant? They’re expensive. Will you do that?”
He was fairly confident there was no such thing as a feline heart transplant, but that wasn’t the point.
He looked at Keira, meeting her wary gaze, and nodded. “Yes. I will pay for your cat to have a heart transplant.”
She visibly relaxed. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll take good care of Lizzy. I promise.”
“Why Lizzy? Why not Muffin or Fluffy or whatever else it is people call cats?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m twelve, Malcolm, not five. It’s Lizzy for Elizabeth Taylor because she’s beautiful. I know it’s a cliché, but it reminds me of Angelina and I still miss her.”
He was having trouble following the conversation. “Angelina is your friend from Los Angeles. The, ah, person who took you in after you lost your mom?”
“I didn’t lose my mom. She took off and left me and then she overdosed.”
Keira was nothing like the sweet kids who had populated the sitcoms he’d watched when he’d been growing up. “But Angelina is the person who took you in?”
“Yes.”
