Reserved (8 page)

“We’re not in water, so we are lucky that way. Not a lot of drifting on land.” Kenna pulled her in closer.

Paige squirmed to face Kenna again and held her little finger to her mouth, as if she were figuring out a math problem. “Right, you’re right. Those otters have it harder, don’t you think?”

“Tough work being an otter.” Kenna tickled her until she ran from the bedroom. She poked her head back.

“Rise and shine, silly boots. We need waffles and my hair is a nest of rats again.”

Kenna laughed. “A rat’s nest.”

“Right.” Paige spun on her slippers and headed to the kitchen. “We have a family meanie today.”

“Meeting,” Kenna said, getting out of bed. “It’s a family meeting, not a meanie.” She let out a breath, pushed her hair off her face, and quickly went into the bathroom so she could get to the kitchen before her daughter started making breakfast for herself, because she certainly would.

After rinsing and drying her face, Kenna noticed the unopened package of peanut butter crackers sitting on the basket next to her tub. She’d made Paige give them up last night in a trade-off that allowed her to have bubbles in Kenna’s bigger tub—the “hacoozie” as Paige called it. After tub and bedtime book and e-mails, Kenna had forgotten to bring them back into the kitchen. She put some moisturizer on and picked up the crackers. The wrapper crinkled in her hand, and the memory hit her with such surprise that she leaned back against the bathroom counter for balance.

It was the morning she woke up in the hospital, the morning after Paige was born. Their baby girl had arrived at 3:30 in the middle of the night, so after the initial wonder and kisses, Kenna had collapsed in exhaustion. Early the next morning, she opened her eyes to Adam, all almost six feet of him, curled up on a couch that looked more like a chair. She was reaching for the peanut butter crackers on the side table and at the sound of the crinkle, Adam jumped to his feet.

“I’ll get it,” flew out of his mouth, his blond hair every which way. His shirt was wrinkled and his light blue eyes were foggy and bloodshot.

Makenna remembered smiling and despite being a little uncomfortable from the delivery, completely flooded with joy. She was only twenty-four when Paige was born. Adam was twenty-six and even though he came from money back in Rhode Island, they were both just getting started in their careers and had very little money of their own. Looking back, they probably had no business having a baby, but if anyone would have told them that at the time, they would have both rolled their eyes and laughed. There was nothing they couldn’t do back then. Adam had held her hand, cut the cord, and cried while he kissed his daughter. The morning after, he was attentive and so gentle. When they left the hospital, it took twenty minutes for him to secure and recheck the elephant-print car seat. Before they pulled out of the hospital, he had looked at her and said, “Feels like we should at least get a manual or something, right?”

Kenna had laughed and touched his hand. “Can we stop for ice cream?”

“Still?”

“Oh, yeah. I think the little peach left me the cravings.”

“She’s totally a peach. Huh, she has a nickname now.”

“Fuzzy.” Makenna had reached behind her to touch the back of the car seat, needing contact with their new little person.

Adam had kissed her hand and later, while they sat in the car eating ice cream, he told her he was the happiest he’d ever been in his life, probably the happiest it was going to get. Told her that if it was all over tomorrow, he would be good, “all set with my girls,” he’d said. Kenna would play that day, his words, over and over again in her heart for years after he was gone. Five short weeks later, she was cremating him and sprinkling him along the Divide Road on Catalina Island, baby Paige strapped to her chest in a big white sun hat. She had cried all the way up and all the way back down.

“Mama, the waffles are in the slots, but I need you to push the buttons because I’m not allowed.”

Makenna shook herself free of the memory, swallowed back the ache, and walked toward the kitchen.

“That’s right, Peach. No toaster buttons without me. Those listening ears
do
work.”

“Sometimes.” Paige was standing on the step stool, syrup in hand, hovering over the toaster when Kenna came into the kitchen.

“Okay, push them.” Makenna took a Coke out of the refrigerator, kissed her daughter on the top of her head, and not for the first time, was so grateful for the magic Adam had left behind.

Kenna and Paige arrived at Libby’s Little Breakfast Place at 5:45 that same morning. She wasn’t sure how they’d managed to be early for the Rye family meeting, especially since it had taken them a good five minutes to find Fritters, the pig. He’d slipped between the bed and the wall last night. With Paige flat on her belly holding the flashlight, Kenna strained under the bed and reached Fritters with the tips of her fingers and rescued him from the dust bunnies. Kenna would need to move the bed out later and clean.
Where the hell did all the dust bunnies come from?
She barely gave it a thought because they were going to be late. Paige had chosen her striped tights and pink corduroy dress, and after a few hems and haws, she had let Kenna put her hair in two quick braids. She remembered her lunch box this time, made what Paige was now calling “the boring lunch,” and strapped Paige into her booster seat by 5:30. It was remarkable timing for the morning routine, and as Kenna sipped her Coke on the ride to Libby’s, she thought about him.

Every time she made lunch, she thought about him, which was ridiculous. He’d been making Paige’s lunch for several months before the dream, and when she found out, he seemed embarrassed and dismissed it, but she thanked him and kissed his cheek. Maybe she started seeing him differently then. Maybe she still remembered her lips touching his cheek.

Trixie, she told herself, remember Trixie? Or how about the one named after the wine, yeah, remember Bordeaux? He invited her to The Yard’s Christmas Eve dinner a few months earlier. Her dress, shirt, diaper, whatever she was wearing left little to the imagination. Right, stripper names and wine, that was the extent of Travis’s type. So he made lunch on the side and had those biceps. It didn’t matter because it would never work with someone like Travis. Besides, she would be dating soon. In fact, there were a few potentials to look over later this afternoon. She might even have a date by the weekend. Kenna let out a breath as she tied the apron Libby had given Paige to wear so she could play waitress while Kenna met with the men of the Rye family.

“Too tight, Mama.” Paige squirmed and stuck out her belly. “I need to be able to work.”

Kenna loosened the tie, made a bow, and flicked her daughter’s braids as she marched over to join Libby, who was taking an order.

“You’re early,” her father said, taking off his cowboy hat as he walked past Paige and winked at her.

“So are you.” Kenna put her bags down at the second booth, their booth, and took out her laptop.

“I know, but I’m always early. Peanut playing waitress again this morning?” Herbert Rye, her father, kissed Kenna on the cheek and she kissed him back, closing her eyes at the feel of his smooth cheek and the smell of Chaps cologne.

“I’m not sure how it happened, but we ended up early. Kind of nice not to be rushing for a change.” Kenna took a sip of the Coke Libby had dropped off.

“I’ll bet.” Her dad looked over at Paige, his first and, so far, only grandchild. “She’s getting so big. I can’t even believe where the time goes. I’m making her a swing for her birthday. One of those Indian or Moroccan ones that hang.”

Kenna glanced up from her computer.

“Heck, I don’t know. She was showing me pictures a few months back and I told her I’d make her one. I’m actually having fun with it. Marrakech, that’s what it’s called. She said she wants to put it outside so she can ‘be with her nature.’ That’s what she said.”

Kenna smiled. “That’s very sweet of you, Dad.”

“She told me we could buy one, but I’d just as soon make it for her.”

“It’s a great idea. I’m sure she will love it even more.”

“Hope so. Are we having her birthday at the farm or are you doing it at your place?”

“I haven’t really thought about it yet. We’ve got a couple of months.”

“Couple of months for what?” Garrett asked, bringing a cup of coffee over from the counter and taking his seat in the booth. “I hope we aren’t waiting a couple of months to replace the blades on the number-two cultivator, because Ray says they’re already shot.”

Kenna shook her head. “Why do you always just barge in and assume your place in a conversation you know nothing about?”

“I’m just saying, we can’t wait. And last time I checked”—Garrett looked at his watch—“this is the family meeting, so what the hell else would we be talking about?”

“Paige’s birthday.” Their father sipped his coffee.

“Oh, well, then I guess that’s more important. I see you’ve put Paige the Magnificent to work again this morning. You’re like the evil stepmother.” He bumped Makenna’s shoulder and she bumped him back while she pulled up her notes on the restaurant and the farm. She wanted to talk about catering the Malendar wedding and find out if Logan was going to expand the on-site garden next month or wait until next year.

When she looked up, Logan was heading toward the booth with Paige dangling from under his arm. Her brother looked fresh out the shower, and he was late.

“Put me down Uncle Rogan, I’ve got customers.” Paige giggled, and Logan plopped his niece in Garrett’s waiting arms.

“Uncle, now be re—son—” Paige furrowed her brow as she searched for the word well past her almost six-year-old vocabulary.

“Reasonable.” Garrett set her down and kissed her forehead.

“Yes, reasonable. I’m a waitress and I don’t have time for this.” She put her chubby little hands on her hips, and Kenna watched her oldest brother melt into the booth.

“I get it, oh Magnificent One. Head on back to work.”

Paige reached up and pinched his cheek, and Garrett laughed.

“I’m totally her favorite,” Garrett said to Logan, who was now sitting next to their dad.

Logan shook his head. “You don’t have a nickname, remember. Favorites always have a nickname. You’re just . . . uncle.” Logan exaggerated a wince. “Sorry, man. Firstborn but second-place uncle.”

Before Garrett could continue the same stupid argument they had at least once a month, Kenna handed out copies of weekly financials for the farm and gave Logan the reports for The Yard. Libby took their orders with her sidekick and once the pancakes arrived, the family meeting was underway.

Kenna assured her brother that the cultivator replacement blades had already been ordered and that the guy he put her in touch with gave her such a deal they now had a backup. Garrett looked like a kid on Christmas morning, and Kenna moved on to the increase in feed costs and confirmed the dates of the Malendar wedding.

“This will be our first catering job and I guess we should hire someone, but I thought you could handle it, Kenna,” Logan said.

Makenna clicked on the reminder to buy some foam balls for Paige’s solar system diorama that was due next week and shot her brother a “don’t I have enough to do?” look. “Is that in my job description?”

All three men laughed.

“Oh darlin’, you tried that when you were little too. It’s all right there under ‘other duties as assigned,’” her father said.

“Plus, you’re a woman. Isn’t your kind all about overachieving?” Garrett popped his last bit of bacon into his mouth.

“My kind? Hey, have you guys discovered fire yet in the cave?”

Garrett laughed and ruffled the bun on top of her head. Kenna smacked his shoulder.

“All right, settle down,” their dad said, as if they were all still kids around the breakfast table.

Come to think of it, when they got together, it usually felt that way.

“Kenna, if you’re not up to it, we can look for someone. Maybe a part-time catering manager,” Logan said, flipping through his report.

“No. Do you see those financials, all that black ink? We are finally looking so good. I don’t want to mess with it. How hard can one wedding be?”

Logan smiled. He’d gotten his way, and Kenna would now need to create a new calendar. She really didn’t mind a project. She liked being busy. Besides, it would be fun working with Kate and Grady. Since Grady’s sister, Kara, was marrying Logan next year, they’d all become sort of close.

“Travis is all yours, I promise.”

Kenna almost knocked her drink across the table. “Excuse me?”

Garrett steadied her glass.

“Travis. You can have him for the wedding. He’s got some great ideas, and I’m still working with him while we put together the tasting menu. Kate and Grady are coming in a couple of weeks to taste test and pick their favorites, but since Kara’s in the wedding, I need to be a guest that night. I’ll leave the actual wedding to you and Travis.”

Kenna focused on being grateful her laptop wasn’t covered in Coke and nodded.

“Is there a problem?” Logan asked.

She said nothing but at least managed to shake her head the other way to indicate things were fine. More work, trying to date, Travis without his shirt on in her dream, an outspoken daughter . . . everything was just fine. She could work with Travis; she’d done it before. Granted, not on something as large as a wedding, but they worked together with Logan when the senator did his volunteer thing. This was a wedding and knowing Kate and Grady, it would be fun. Kenna wasn’t sure she had time for fun, but she was turning over a new leaf, making time for things, important things. She was thirty, and a girl couldn’t live on laptop screens, Littlest Pet Shop, and muddy boots alone. This project would keep her occupied, and working with Travis would be good. Wow, this was it, that delirious talking to herself moment right before she slid into complete meltdown.