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“Ty. Since I’ll only be here just six months,” she emphasized softly, “I’d like to get to work as quickly as possible. Do you have a schedule for start-up?”
The welcome in those clear blue eyes frosted up. Goodbye sense of humor.
“We have a rough plan. My thought was that we would get your input before we made a decision on any big changes in the kitchen.”
“My input.” She seized the opportunity. “All right then. Do you have a pen?”
When he blinked Cassidy knew he wasn’t prepared for her list. She’d give it to him anyway. They couldn’t afford to waste time deciding who did what. January in Chicago was frigid and the homeless people would need a place to come to.
She removed her coat, pulled a black marker out of her purse, picked up a hunk of cardboard from the floor and laid it on the counter. As she wrote, she spoke.
“Most of the money will have to go toward the big-ticket items. Cooler, freezer. We’ll need a new stove. I can manage with the pots and pans that are here. Now for small wares.” She checked the cupboards, shrugged. “Not bad. I bring my own knives, so we can manage for now. I am going to need a mixer though.”
She kept going, printing the things she needed—clearly and legibly so there would be no mistake about her requests.
“Wait!”
Cassidy froze at the barked order, peeked over one shoulder at her boss. His eyes gaped; he looked stunned.
Sympathy rose. She did tend to get carried away sometimes.
“Don’t worry, I can adapt to minimal conditions. Now in regard to helpers—I’ll need two. Full-time. Strong, willing to learn, not afraid of correction. It’s important—”
“Ms. Preston, would you please stop?”
“Stop?”
“Yes. Stop.” The relaxed demeanor had vanished, replaced by the deportment of a man used to giving orders.
The change in him made Cassidy catch her breath. Angry or teasing, he was still very good-looking, even when his eyes hardened to glacial chips and the steel in his voice warned her he wouldn’t easily relinquish control.
“I realize you are a fully qualified chef, Ms. Preston, and that this must be a bit of a comedown for you. But the Haven is not—”
“Hey, Ty!” The yell was punctuated by the echo of an elephant herd tromping downstairs. A boy burst into the room. Well, not quite a boy. A preteen? “You’ll never believe what I found.”
Tyson St. John sighed as he raked a hand through his hair.
“No, I probably won’t. Jack, this is Ms. Preston. She’s a chef. Elizabeth Wisdom sent her to cook for us.” His mouth tightened as he drew the boy forward. “This is my nephew, Ms. Preston. Meet Jackson Dorfman.”
Cassidy found the introduction stilted, but had no time to dwell on it as Jack jerked away from the contact and frowned at her.
“A cook, huh? What kind?”
He was testing her. That belligerence, the bottom lip jutting out, the glare from those bittersweet brown eyes—all characteristic signs of onset teenager-hood. Two younger sisters had educated Cassidy in the challenges of that particular age very well. It was not an experience she yearned to repeat.
“It’s nice to meet you, Jack.” Cassidy met the glare head-on. “What kind of cook do you want?”
“I-I don’t know.” He seemed surprised by the question, not quite ready to back down, a bit curious. “You’re not going to make things like liver pâté, are you? Or those things like clams that slide off slimy shells? Ty ordered them when we went for a fancy dinner one time.”
She swallowed her laughter, kept her face straight. “Do you mean oysters?”
“Yeah, I guess. They were gross!”
Ty, good humor restored, winked at her before turning Jack to face him.
“I think I can safely assure you that Ms. Preston will not be offering oysters on her menu. Am I right?” he asked, glancing her way.
“I’m afraid so.” She kept her face straight through a gargantuan effort. “At the Haven we will have to settle for things like beef stew, hot dogs, maybe some hamburgers. Once in a while, we might have to have roast beef, or maybe fried chicken. Unfortunately, I might even be forced to include pizza occasionally.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Cassidy could see Ty’s shoulders shake at her sad tone. She ignored him.
“That won’t be too awful, will it, Jack?”
“Mom always said God answers prayer.” Like lightning, the subject changed as Jack grabbed Ty’s arm and yanked on it. “You’ve got to come see what I’ve found. It’s the weirdest mirror. Come on!”
“Okay, okay, I’ll be there in a minute.” Ty shook his head at the burst of pounding footsteps overhead. “Remember, Jack,” he called. “Be careful.”
“Hurry!”
Cassidy was surprised by the soft look of yearning that washed over Tyson St. John’s face as he gazed after his nephew, when just moments ago there had been stiffness in his attitude with the boy that she didn’t understand.
“I’m really sorry Elizabeth didn’t tell you that we aren’t quite ready to open, Cassidy.” Ty gnawed on his bottom lip. “I don’t suppose you could get your boss to hire you back for a month or so, just until we get things shipshape?”
“I’d have to go back to Greece to do that and I don’t think it would be worth it for one month.” Cassidy kept her expression neutral as she surveyed the area. “I’ll get settled in my place over the weekend. Monday morning I’ll start cleaning in here. If you can find some helpers—”
A tremendous crash above them cut off the rest of her words. Ty instantly froze. One word whispered from his lips.
“Jack.”
It took a second before he turned and raced out of the room, his footsteps hammering the stairs as he charged upward. Cassidy followed, besieged by memories. Ty paused on the first floor, but a weak cry from above them sent him racing up a second flight.
Ty charged through a doorway. Cassidy followed then jerked to a stop. Jack lay on his back by the far wall, shards of mirror surrounding his prone body, a pool of blood forming around his head. A six-inch jagged spear of glass protruded from his brow, barely missing his right eye.
“Oh, no.” Ty remained frozen to the spot, hands clenching against his sides.
“Help me.” Jack’s words slipped from between lips drained so white they looked almost lifeless.
“Yes.” But Ty’s eyes brimmed with fear as they locked on Cassidy’s, begging her to do something.
She slapped her phone into his palm before kneeling beside the injured boy.
“Call 911,” she ordered. When he didn’t obey, she snapped, “Now.”
While he pushed the buttons, she did a quick survey of Jack then tried to make him more comfortable. A mirror hanging from the wall must have come off and landed on Jack.
“Lie still,” she murmured. “You’ll be fine. The ambulance will be here soon. It’s going to be okay. Try not to move.”
She felt Ty brush her arm as he crouched down beside her.
“They’re coming. The glass—” he whispered. “Shouldn’t we—” He reached out.
Cassidy grabbed his hand, pulled it back and held it with both of her own.
“Don’t touch it!”
Jack’s eyes flared open. She could see panic growing in their depths.
“Uncle Ty? Am I going to die like Mom?”
So he’d lost his mother. For a fraction of a moment, Cassidy could see into his boyish heart, to the uncertainty that lurked there like a monster in the night.
In that moment, a bond formed between them. She knew exactly how Jack felt because once, a long time ago, she’d felt the same. Scared, lonely, afraid that no one would ever love her as her dead mother had.
She released Ty’s hand with a warning glance, then bent forward and placed her palms against Jack’s cheeks. She waited till he was wholly focused on her.
“You’re not going to die, Jack.” She smiled to soften the harshness of her words, made her voice steady, reassuring. “You’re going to lie very still until the paramedics come. They’ll take you to the hospital and the doctors will help you. Then all the pretty nurses are going to come and fawn over you and offer you ice cream and try to get your telephone number for their daughters. Okay?”
Jack started to nod his head, but Cassidy tightened her fingers and held him still.
“You must have missed the first part,” she teased. “Lie very still. Blink if you understand.”
He blinked a whole bunch of times. Cassidy smiled.
“Good. I saw that in the movies and always wanted to try it.” She grinned. “Guess it works, huh? Does your voice?”
“Yes.”
“Thought so. Hey, that sounds like the ambulance.” She turned to Ty. “Can you go and show them where to come?”
She knew from his expression that he did not want to leave. Yet something else told her that given the choice, Ty St. John would run as far and as fast from this situation as he could, which was exactly why she would not leave Jack. Ty was too upset to handle this.
When Ty opened his mouth to protest, Cassidy gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head and leaned so her lips were next to his ear.
“Go quickly.”
He rose to his feet like a man in a daze, offered his nephew a shaky smile.
“I thought I was in charge here, but she’s pretty bossy, don’t you think?”
A smile fluttered across Jack’s white lips. “Yeah.”
“I think you and I are going to have to watch it. You keep your eye on her while I go get the paramedics.” Tyson took one last look before hurrying out of the room.
Cassidy checked Jack’s vitals, noted the widening circle of blood. She picked up his hand and held it between her own.
“You are doing fine, Jack.”
“Can you pray for me?”
The words caught Cassidy off guard.
“When my mom was sick, she would ask me to pray for her. She always said it made her feel better. So can you pray for me?”
Years had passed since Cassidy had trusted anyone, let alone God. But Jack’s pleading face could not be denied. She squeezed his hand and bowed her head, searching for the right words.
“God, you know that Jack has been hurt. And you know that he’s afraid right now. Please help him.”
It was a pathetic prayer, but at least it came to a quick end, thanks to the paramedics bursting into the room. She glanced down at Jack, felt the squeeze of his fingers around hers. One of the medics hunkered beside her, tried to nudge her out of the way. But Jack wouldn’t let go of her hand.
“Thanks,” he whispered, brown eyes shining.
“You’re very welcome.” Cassidy swallowed around the lump in her throat.
“Step back, please. We need to move him.”
Jack squeezed her fingers once more, then let go. Cassidy stood by and watched them prepare him for the ride to the hospital.
Such gratefulness, and for what? A few paltry words? She had done nothing, and yet Jack seemed to relax, to gain confidence from her silly prayer. She watched as they loaded him onto a gurney, then followed as they carried him out of the building.
A child’s blind trust. She’d had that once.
“I’m going with him. Would you be able to drive my car to the hospital?” Clearly back in control, Ty fished a set of keys out of the coat he was carrying. “It’s parked behind the building. Ms. Preston?”
“Y-yes, of course.” Cassidy gulped and accepted the keys from him. “I’ll lock up and follow you. I want to see how he does, too.”
Jack was inside the ambulance now. The paramedics waited impatiently, but Ty paused a moment longer, his face solemn.
“Thank you. I froze back there. I couldn’t—” He shook his head as if to clear the image as he searched for words.
“Go.” Cassidy urged him forward. “Your nephew needs you now.”
He nodded, turned and strode toward the ambulance. Once he’d climbed inside, it took off. Shivering, she waited until the flashing lights disappeared from sight before turning back toward the building. Leaving Greece in January—was she crazy?
She retrieved her coat and purse, then stepped out the front door.
A grizzled old man, dressed in a shabby overcoat, stood on the bottom stoop.
“What happened?” He didn’t sound like a curious onlooker. He sounded concerned, worried.
She debated whether or not to tell him, then decided it could do no harm. But first she had some questions of her own.
“Who are you?”
“Mac. I’ve been coming here awhile, helping Ty get the place cleaned out.” The skin on his forehead drew into a crease. “The boy got hurt, didn’t he?”
“Yes, Jack broke a mirror and some of it cut him. He’s going to need some stitches. I’m going to the hospital as soon as I lock up.”
“Ty’ll blame himself.”
