she insisted she needed me close. I think losing the buffer of wealth and privilege made her feel painfully vulnerable.”
“What about your father?”
“We had some minimal contact with him. But Mama and I both felt betrayed, so we didn’t go out of our way to visit. I suppose that makes me sound hard and selfish.”
Patrick shook his head. “Not at all. A man’s duty is to care for his family. Your father deceived you, broke your trust and failed to provide for you. It’s understandable that you have issues.”
She stared at him. “You speak from experience, don’t you? My mother told me about what happened years ago.”
Patrick hadn’t expected her to be so quick on the uptake. Now he was rather sorry he’d raised the subject. His own father, Reggie Kavanagh, had been determined to find the lost silver mine that had made the first Kavanaghs in North Carolina extremely wealthy. Reggie had spent months, years...looking, always looking.
His obsession cost him his family.
“I was just a little kid,” Patrick said. “My brother Liam has the worst memories. But yeah...I understand. My mother had every right to be bitter and angry, but somehow she pulled herself together and kept tabs on seven boys.”
Libby paled, her eyes haunted. “I wish I could say the same. But not all of us are as strong as Maeve.”
He cursed inwardly. He hadn’t meant to sound critical of Libby’s mother. “My mother wasn’t left destitute.”
“True. But she’s made of tough stock. Mama was never really a strong person, even in the best of times.”
“I’m sorry, Libby.”
Her lips twisted, her eyes bleak. “We can’t choose our families.”
In an instant he saw that this job idea was laden with emotional peril for Libby Parkhurst. When it became glaringly obvious that she couldn’t handle the physically demanding nature of Charlise’s role as his assistant, Libby would be crushed. Surely it would be better to find that out sooner than later. Then she could move on and look for employment more suited to her skill set. Libby was smart and organized and intuitive.
There was a place for her out there somewhere. Just not at Silver Reflections.
He drummed his fingers on the table. “I looked at the weather forecast. We’re due to have a warm spell in a couple of days.”
“I saw that, too. Maeve says you almost always get an early taste of spring here in the mountains, even if it doesn’t last long.”
“She’s right. And in light of that, why don’t you and I go ahead and take an overnight trip, so I can show you what’s involved.”
Libby went from wistful to deer in the headlights. “You mean now?”
“Yes. We could head out Monday morning and be back Tuesday afternoon.” Part of him felt guilty for pushing her, but they had to get past this hurdle so she could see the truth.
He saw her throat move as she swallowed. “I don’t have any outdoor gear.”
“Mom can cover you there. And my sisters-in-law can loan you some stuff, too. No sense in buying anything now.”
“Because you think I’ll fail.”
She stared him down, but he wasn’t going to sugarcoat it. “I think there is a good chance you’ll discover that working for me isn’t what you really want.”
“You’ve made up your mind already, haven’t you?” He was surprised to see that she had a temper.
“No.” Was he being entirely honest? “I promised you a trial run. I’ve merely moved up the timetable, thanks to the weather.”
Libby’s gaze skewered him. “Do I need a list from you, or will your mother know everything I need?”
“I’ll email you the list, but Mom has a pretty good idea.”
Libby stood up abruptly. “I don’t think I’m that hungry, after all. Thank you for the Coke, Mr. Kavanagh. If you’ll excuse me, it sounds like I have a lot to do this weekend.”
And with that, she turned her back on him and walked out of the room.
Dylan commandeered the chair Libby had vacated, his broad smirk designed to be irritating. “I haven’t seen you crash and burn in a long time, baby brother. What did you say to make her so mad?”
“It wasn’t a date,” Patrick said, his voice curt. “Mind your own damned business.”
“She could do better than you, no doubt. Great body, I’m guessing, even though her clothes are a tad on the eccentric side. Excellent bone structure. Upper-crust accent. And those eyes... Hell, if I weren’t a married man, I’d try my luck.”
Patrick reined in his temper, well aware that Dylan was yanking his chain. “That’s not funny.”
“Seriously. What did you say to run her off?”
“It’s complicated.”
“I’ve got all night.”
Patrick stared at him. “If you must know, Mom shoved her down my throat as a replacement for Charlise. Libby can handle the retreat center details, but there is no way in hell she’s going to be able to do all the outdoor, backcountry stuff. When I hired her, she asked me to give her a chance to prove herself. I merely pointed out that the weather’s going to be warm the first of the week, so we might as well go for it.”
“And that made her mad?”
“Well, she might possibly have assumed that I expect her to fail.”
“Smart lady.”
“How am I the bad guy here? I run a multilayered business. I can’t afford to babysit Mom’s misfits.”
Dylan’s expression went from amused to horrified in the space of an instant.
Libby’s soft, well-modulated voice broke the deadly silence. “I left my sweater. Sorry to interrupt.”
And then she was gone. Again.
Patrick swallowed hard. “Did she hear what I said?”
Dylan winced. “Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t have time to warn you. I didn’t see her coming.”
“Well, that’s just peachy.”
The waitress appeared, notepad in hand, to take Patrick’s order. “What’ll you have?” she asked.
Dylan shook his head in regret. “Bring us a couple of burgers, all the way. My baby brother needs some cheering up. It’s gonna be a long night.”
Not since the wretched aftermath of her father’s arrest had Libby felt so small and so humiliated. She’d thought Patrick liked her...that he was pleased with her work to date. But in truth, Libby had been foisted on him, and he resented her intrusion.
Her chest hurt, almost as if someone had actually sucker punched her. When she made it back to her room on the third floor of Maeve’s luxurious hotel, Libby threw herself on the bed and cried. Then she cussed awhile and cried some more. Part of her never wanted to see Patrick Kavanagh again. The other part wanted to make him ashamed for having doubted her. She wanted to be the best damn outdoorswoman he had ever seen.
But since that was highly unlikely to be the actual scenario come Monday, perhaps the best course was to explain to Maeve that the job hadn’t worked out.
There would be questions, of course, lots of them. And although there might be other jobs in Silver Glen, perhaps as a shop assistant making minimum wage, it would be difficult to find a place to live on that