Ben sighed. No, Graciela hadn’t been thinking rationally, but neither had he. He’d known her state of mind was irrational that night, that she was feeling defensive and cornered at having been caught with her lover. He’d told her to get out anyway. Not only hadn’t he taken those car keys from her, he’d all but tossed her out the door and put her behind the wheel.
“It hardly matters now,” he said at last. “I can’t change that night.”
Kathleen looked directly into his eyes. “No,” she said softly. “You can’t. The only thing you can do—the thing you must do—is put it behind you.”
Ben wanted desperately to accept that, to let go of the past as his entire family had urged him to do, but blaming himself was too ingrained. Absolution from a woman he’d known a few hours counted for nothing.
He forced his gaze away from Kathleen and saw Destiny and his brothers watching him intently, as if they’d sensed or even heard what Ben and Kathleen had been discussing and were awaiting either an explosion or a sudden epiphany. He gave them neither.
Instead, he lifted his glass of water. “To good company and wonderful food. Thanks, Destiny.”
“To Destiny,” the others echoed.
Destiny beamed at him, evidently satisfied that things were working out exactly as she’d intended. “Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.”
Ben drank to her toast, but even as he wished everyone a wonderful Thanksgiving, he couldn’t help wondering when this dark, empty hole inside him would go away and he’d truly be able to count his blessings again. He gazed at Kathleen and thought he saw shadows in her eyes, as well, and guessed she was feeling much the same way.
He knew Destiny wanted something to come from this meeting today, but it wasn’t in the cards. Whatever the whole story, Kathleen Dugan’s soul was as shattered as his own.
Kathleen waited impatiently through several courses of excellent food. She nibbled on pecan pie, then lingered over two cups of rich, dark coffee, hoping for an invitation to Ben’s studio to go through the works that were stashed there. She desperately wanted to see for herself if the painting in the dining room was the exception or the rule.
Then again, it might be sheer torment, especially if each and every painting was extraordinary and Ben still flatly refused to allow her to show them.
When the meal finally ended and people started making their excuses and leaving, she lingered at the table with the family. She debated simply asking for a tour of the studio, but Ben’s forbidding expression stopped her. Not even Destiny seemed inclined to broach the very subject that she claimed had been her reason for asking Kathleen to dinner. It was as if she, too, had read her nephew’s mood and determined that he wouldn’t be receptive.
Kathleen was about to accept a momentary defeat and leave, when Melanie stepped in.
“Kathleen, surely you’re not going without looking at Ben’s paintings,” Melanie said, merriment sparkling in her eyes. “Isn’t that why you came tonight?”
Ben looked as if he’d like to strangle his sister-in-law. Kathleen took her cue from that.
“Perhaps another time,” she said before Ben could utter a word. She smiled at him. “I would love to come back sometime to see your studio, if you’ll let me.”
He regarded her with a faint frown. “Sure,” he said, too polite to refuse outright.
“I’ll call to set it up,” Kathleen promised. She had no intention of doing that. She had a hunch she needed the element of surprise on her side. Meantime, though, let him get complacent, thinking that he’d have fair warning.
“There’s no phone in the studio,” Melanie chimed in.
“And Ben never checks his messages,” Beth added.
“You should probably just pop in whenever the mood strikes,” Melanie suggested.
Kathleen grinned. Obviously those two were on the same wavelength. They’d found a way to encourage her and warn Ben at the same time. Very clever.
“Perhaps I will,” Kathleen said. She gave him a pointed look. “If Ben doesn’t return my calls.”
He rolled his eyes. “I return my calls.” He gave his sisters-in-law a hard look. “At least to anyone important.”
The two women laughed, not the least bit insulted by the innuendo. “I guess you put us in our place,” Melanie said, giving him a kiss. “Don’t be a stranger. I expect you to come to dinner soon.”
To Kathleen’s surprise, his expression softened and he rested a hand on Melanie’s huge belly. “I’d better hurry before this little one steals all your attention.”
“We’ll always have time for you,” Melanie told him. “And we’re counting on you to give the baby its first set of paints and plenty of free art lessons, just the way Destiny did for you. Mack’s going to teach the baby the finer points of football.”
“Even if it’s a girl?” Ben inquired skeptically.
“There will be no gender discrimination in this family,” Melanie retorted. “Right, Mack?”
“None,” Mack agreed at once. “And if it is a girl and she’s really, really good, I’ll make her the first woman in the National Football League. Who cares about a few cuts and bruises and broken bones?”
“Hold it,” Richard said, scowling at his brother. “Nobody gets to tackle any daughter of mine.”
Beth nudged Mack in the ribs. “You knew your brother would forbid it, didn’t you? Obviously you inherited Destiny’s sneakiness. You sound very broadminded since there’s absolutely no risk that you’ll ever have to pay up.”
“Hey, my offer was genuine,” Mack insisted, looking hurt that his wife would think otherwise. “Now let’s get out of here. We’ve got some kids at the hospital we want to see tonight. I promised them pie for dessert.”
Destiny stood up at once. “I have the pies all ready in the kitchen. I’ll get them.”
Melanie and Richard left as Mack, Beth and Destiny headed for the kitchen, leaving Kathleen alone with Ben.
“You have an amazing family,” she told him.
“They’re good people,” Ben agreed, then regarded her curiously. “What about your family? Were they together today?”
“Of course. It’s tradition.” She knew there was no mistaking the harsh edge in her voice, but she was unable to contain it.
“But you weren’t there,” he noted.
“I’d had enough of tradition,” she said succinctly. “I decided it was time to do my own thing.”
“Something tells me there’s a story there,” he said.
“Not a very interesting one,” she insisted, unwilling to air the Dugan family laundry to this man she barely knew.
He studied her so intently that she felt herself flush under his scrutiny.
“If you ever change your mind, I’m a good listener,” he said eventually.
Kathleen didn’t talk about that part of her past any more than she talked about her marriage. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said with no intention of following up on it. Why reveal intimate secrets to a man she wanted to represent, not to date? Not that she’d ever shared any part of her family history with anyone. Keeping quiet had been ingrained in her from an early age.
“But you have no intention of talking to me about that or anything else personal, do you?” Ben guessed.