Saved by the Bride

chapter Three

At 6:00 a.m. Finn had given up any attempt at sleep and had gone for an early morning run around the lake. The pink streaks of dawn had brought the birds into the sky and he’d caught the red flash of the cardinal, heard the hammering of a woodpecker and watched a flock of Canada geese land on the lake, like planes coming in on an aircraft carrier. Usually, the sights and sounds of the woods soothed him. Not today. If anything the exercise seemed to have increased his sense of disgruntlement.

Hot, sweaty and hungry, he hit the shower in the main house before heading into the kitchen. There was no food in his cabin because he was only staying the one night and as soon as he’d spoken to his father he was on the helicopter back to Chicago. But before any of that could happen he needed eggs and coffee—facing Sean on an empty stomach was inadvisable.

The house was deliciously quiet because the guests had used accommodations in Whitetail and the surrounding county. Sunday was Esther’s day off and with the family still asleep after their late night, he was relieved he could have breakfast alone. He whipped open the fridge and examined the contents. He’d just put his hand on the milk when he felt a tug on his T-shirt, and he turned around to see an eight-year-old boy in pajamas holding a toy truck in one hand and a toy sports car in the other.

“I’m hungry.” The child announced it more as a command than a statement.

“When I was eight I made my own breakfast,” he said automatically.

Logan pushed black curls out of his eyes. “Mommy says I can only make pancakes when there’s someone else in the kitchen.”

With his hands full, Finn kicked the fridge door closed. “So, go get your mom.”

“She’s asleep.” The boy clambered up onto one of the high stools next to the autumn-brown granite counter, expectation and hope clear on his face.

“Then go ask your fa—” Finn swallowed the word. He didn’t want the kid getting their father up. Not yet anyway.

“Daddy’s asleep too but you’re not.”

Finn wanted more than anything to have the kitchen devoid of kid chatter—any chatter—so he could mentally prepare for his “chat” with Sean. That and the fact he had little experience with children and frequently felt out of his depth in their presence. Finn was twenty-five years older than Logan. When that age gap was combined with the fact Finn kept his relationship with Sean strictly business and the Callahan clan rarely gathered together as a family, there’d been few opportunities for the brothers to bond. The result was that his little half brother with the endearing gap-toothed smile was a stranger.

Finn had never cooked pancakes in his life and had no clue how to start. “I’m making eggs. Would you like that?”

“I don’t like eggs.”

Finn pulled three boxes of cereal out of a cupboard and pushed them across the counter. “How about you choose one of these instead?”

Logan got a mulish look. “You’re grumpy in the mornings just like Daddy.”

The comparison stung. “I am not.” He picked up the box containing the most sugar—a cereal he knew Bridey ate on vacation but he figured any parent would refuse to serve it to their kid. He poured a generous serving into a bowl and pushed it across to Logan.

The little boy picked up a bright green circle of cereal. “Mommy says Daddy has to have his paper, his coffee and his toast before we can talk to him.”

A similar accusation had once been leveled at Finn by an ex-girlfriend and he’d denied it then as well. The only thing he shared in common with his father was business acumen. He picked up the gallon of milk in preparation to pour it on Logan’s cereal.

The boy’s hand shot out. “I’m not little. I can do it.”

Finn put the plastic container down and turned the handle toward Logan. This was a perfect example of why he didn’t get kids. One minute Logan wanted him to cook pancakes and the next he was Mr. Independent, risking sending a gallon of milk spewing everywhere. Kids! He swallowed against the zip of frustration he knew he should curb and tried for conversation. “Why didn’t you sleep in?”

The boy stared at him as if he’d come from Mars. “Why would I do that?”

Finn sighed. This was all too hard and with the issue of the warehouses to sort out, he didn’t have the head space to try and get to know his brother today. “Why don’t you go watch cartoons while you eat that?”

The kid’s wide-eyed look told him Dana probably had a “no TV while eating” ban. “Here, take these cookies too.” He shoved a bag of chocolate chip cookies at him.

Logan didn’t pause to question this largesse and scooted off with his unexpected windfall.

Finn breathed a sigh of relief and willed the coffee to drip faster. He hadn’t cooked in this kitchen in years, but despite different women being in domestic command, some things never changed and that was mostly because of Esther, their longtime housekeeper. He quickly found a frying pan and started cooking eggs.

“Oh, is that coffee?” Bridey walked in from outside dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. “Finn? In a kitchen? Where’s my camera?”

So much for a quiet breakfast. “Very funny, just don’t tell Esther.” He poured the now-brewed coffee into two mugs, took a long slug from one and handed the other one to his sister. “Where’s your guy?”

Bridey shot him an infuriated look. “Hank, Finn. His name is Hank.”

“Someone’s testy this morning.” He pressed down the toaster. Hank was the very quiet head engineer at the Illinois plant, and the fact that he’d actually had the balls to propose to his vivacious sister still surprised Finn. The fact she’d said yes had stunned him even more. “Okay, where’s Hank?”

“On the phone.” Bridey sighed. “He’s talking the covering engineer through a problem with machine number four and it doesn’t sound hopeful.”

Machine four had been temperamental since its installation two years ago but his father had overseen the implementation and dealt with the ongoing issues. It was Sean’s problem, not his. “Does Dad know?”

“If they can’t get it restarted, he soon will.” Bridey buttered the toast roughly. “Sometimes I wish the business would just go away.” She stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows toward the lake with a wistful expression on her face. “Do you remember the zip line between the tree house and that old beech tree that crossed the finger of the lake?”

Finn flipped the eggs onto the toast before tossing the pan in the sink. “I remember the yelling and the arguments Mom and Dad had about it. It was the summer they separated.”

Bridey didn’t seem to hear as she rested her chin in her hands. “I loved it. I loved the way the wind would tear at my hair before I dropped into the water.”

“You used to scream like a banshee.”

“That was half the fun.” She bit into the eggs and chewed thoughtfully. “How long since we had a summer at the lake together?”

The question made him pause and he had to calculate back a long way. “Probably my last year of college. You’d just graduated high school.” It was the year his grandfather had died and his father had married Dana.

With the death of his grandfather, he’d lost the reason to visit Kylemore and he hadn’t been near the place for years until last year when the island had come on the market. In a moment of uncharacteristic nostalgia, probably induced by the heat of Mexico, he’d bought it at auction, by phone. He only visited when he knew the rest of the family would be in Chicago—his time was winter and fall.

He mopped the broken yolk with his toast, planning one more cup of coffee before texting his father to schedule a meeting. He realized with a start that Bridey was talking again. “What did you say?”

“We should do it again.”

“Do what?”

His sister had that starry-eyed look she got when she thought she had a great idea and it was always underpinned by deadly determination. “Have a true Callahan summer here like we used to have when we were kids. One last summer all together before I get married.”

The idea gave him goose bumps. “Exactly which summers are you remembering so fondly, B?”

But Bridey was on a roll and either she didn’t hear him or she chose to ignore him. “Logan’s such a great age now and we could do all the stuff with him that Grandpa did with us. Wouldn’t that be great?”

The thought of spending more than one day in the arms of his family made him flinch. “Count me out, Bridey. You don’t need me now you’ve got Hank to play with.”

“At least think about it. Two weeks. One even.”

Her voice implored the way it did every time she wanted something her own way, but he wasn’t his father and he wasn’t malleable Hank so it cut no ice with him. Hearing the creak of the front door, he figured his father was up and out looking for the paper. “I came to your party and I’ll be at your wedding, but I can’t give you a summer.” He dropped a brotherly kiss on her hair. “I have to talk to Dad and then I’m outta here.”

Ignoring the sage advice of his little brother that their father needed coffee and breakfast before talking to anyone, he walked outside. He met Sean jogging back from the gate looking remarkably fit with the Sunday paper in his hand. Finn begrudgingly acknowledged that for a guy of fifty-seven, Sean hadn’t let himself go. Although it was probably more accurate to say Dana hadn’t allowed that to happen. The old man still turned heads wherever he went and his Irish charm—when he chose to turn it on—could sell ice creams to Eskimos. Or in his case, paper and packaging to America and beyond. The man was a business legend and from that perspective, Finn had learned a lot from him. But their relationship was much more “business associates” than “father and son.” Finn had no problem with that at all.

Last night’s humiliation at the Whitetail Police Department circled him and he cut to the chase. “We need to talk.”

His father didn’t break his stride. “Whatever it is can wait until I’ve had breakfast.”

Finn caught him up. “No, it can’t wait.” He played the line he’d been raised on. “It’s business.”

Sean muttered something that sounded like, “It always is,” but Finn knew he’d never say that so he must have misheard.

Sean slapped the paper against his hand. “If it’s about machine number four, I’ve spoken to Germany.”

The ruthless entrepreneur who’d turned a small business into a mega one cut across his manicured lawn and sat down at a large teak, outdoor table and flicked open the paper. “So you can relax now and enjoy your weekend. I’ll see if the Cubs whooped the Brewers.”

Finn ground his teeth. “It’s got nothing to do with number four and everything to do with your signature on the deed to the Whitetail business park.”

“What about it?”

“Letting me know we’d bought it would have been good.”

Sean lowered the paper and shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I picked up two small warehouses we got in a fire sale when Reggies went to the wall. Think of them as a real estate investment.”

Finn pressed his hands onto the table. “The big deal is they’re an investment we don’t need when we’re currently cutting back in other areas.”

His father’s shrewd gray eyes suddenly looked interested. “Really? That’s the big deal, Finnegan?”

The big deal is that a woman with cherry-red lips and cornflower-blue eyes made me look like a fool. No way in hell was he admitting to that. “If I’m to do my job properly I need to be fully briefed. Pulling crap like this makes a mockery of my position of being second in charge.”

Sean gave him a long look and eventually cleared his throat. “You’re right. You need all the information and I should have told you.”

His gut dropped to his feet. It wasn’t a reply he’d expected. He couldn’t ever recall a time when his father had admitted to being wrong. Feeling totally adrift in a boat full of leaking indignation, he grunted out, “Good, I’m glad we’re on the same page then.” Only it didn’t feel like that at all. “I’m heading back to Chicago.”

“Excellent. Take Hank with you and meet the German engineer who’s on tonight’s plane.” Sean picked up the paper.

Finn did a double take. His father was a hands-on businessman and the Illinois plant was his baby. Look out anyone who tried to run it. The two times Finn had brought up succession planning his father had refused to discuss it in any shape or form. “So, you’re not coming?”

A voice sounded from behind the paper. “Only if you can’t handle it.”

Confusion mixed in with disbelief. The fact Sean didn’t want to handle it and control everything had his head spinning with a thousand questions. “Of course I can handle it.”

“Good.” Sean leaned back, paper rustling. “What a glorious day. On your way out, ask Bridey or Dana to send out coffee.”

Finn strode toward the French doors convinced his father was losing it.

* * *

“Being in court will be the ideal place to talk to Sean Callahan because he has to be there, and he has to listen.”

Annika addressed the town meeting after The Bugle’s online and print edition had published the details of her arrest. To Rory’s credit—and he had her eternal gratitude—he’d only released the bare facts but that was enough to require some heavy-duty spin-doctoring. Thank goodness no one had heard she’d been draped over the dark and soulless Finn Callahan, or worse still that she’d been so stupid to be rendered boneless by a mind-altering kiss. A kiss she hadn’t realized had been calculated to see how far she’d put out. Her cheeks burned hot at the memory and her conscience berated her.

You have no clue about men. Seriously, no clue...

“The dress is ruined,” Melissa grumbled.

“I’ll pay for it.” Annika restated her earlier promise despite the fact it would totally empty her bank account and she’d have to tell Ellery she couldn’t make rent. Again.

You know what to do. Finish the final painting in the Dawn, Day and Dusk series that the Milwaukee Gallery’s waiting on. The one you told them would be done by summer and you haven’t even started yet.

She shoved that particular thought way down deep. It was easier to worry about Whitetail than to think about painting. “Everyone, I’ve been doing a bit of resear—”

“Will Bridget Callahan be at the court?” Mrs. Norell interrupted, her face animated. “Perhaps we could put on a mini wedding expo outside to catch her attention.”

“That’s an excellent idea and I can park my horse and carriage in front of the court,” Al suggested. “Prissy will happily stand there for an hour if she has hay.”

“I suppose I could dress one of my mannequins in a bridal dress and put it in the carriage,” Melissa offered, shooting a telling look at Annika. “I mean it’s unlikely to get dirty because it won’t be climbing through a window.”

“The summer hanging baskets on Main Street are still pretty from Jennifer’s wedding,” Mrs. Norell effused. “Nicole, you should groom a wig for the mannequin so Miss Callahan knows we can do hair and makeup too. I could mind little Max for you if that helps.”

“Thanks, Ella. He always enjoys visiting your garden.”

John Ackerman piped up with, “You can use my display boards from the market. Anni, you can pin up some of your invitations and everyone can use the holders for their business cards. I’ll ring the chef at the Supper Club and contact Sherri at Lundstrom’s bakery so they can put their cards there as well.”

A twitter of noise rose as more and more people called out suggestions.

Annika hit her gavel hard on the lectern. She loved these people dearly but they didn’t seem to realize that the town needed real jobs. “I love your enthusiasm for this idea but is it realistic? We need jobs now and I’m worried this wedding idea won’t provide regular jobs that put food on the table.”

A grumble rumbled around the hall and Annika let out a long sigh. They were keen to try despite the fact that Bridget Callahan was unlikely to come into town and see the display, let alone commit to marrying in Whitetail. Biting her lip, she weighed up the pros and cons. She valued the fact they wanted to try but she didn’t want them to go to all that effort only to be hurt and disappointed. But they wanted to be involved and she appreciated that. So while she was busy securing Whitetail a real industry, where was the harm in a mini wedding expo?

“Sure, why not. I’ll put up some examples of my invitations.”


WGN TV Chicago


“And to end tonight’s news bulletin, some quirky footage from Whitetail, Wisconsin. The small northwoods town set up a wedding display outside their courthouse today as their acting mayor, Annika Jacobson, faced a charge of breaking and entering into the vacation home of Chicago’s paper and recycling tycoon, Sean Callahan. With the slogan ‘Whitetail—Weddings That WOW,’ they hoped to entice Bridget Callahan to marry in their town. The Callahan-Neiquest wedding is tipped to be one of the biggest events on next year’s summer social calendar and although the venue is yet to be announced, we think that Chicago’s InterContinental can relax.”